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March 31, 2003

She-Ra; Princess of Power

I tried to take on the forces of evil last week, but I got burned. Now all my credit cards are demagnetized, my X-ray vision is on the blink, and I bump into shit when I walk around. Truthfully, I was expecting the Ninja Turtles to back me up a little more on this one, but they pussed out at the last minute.

Just so everybody knows, these supervillains are still going strong after my miserable failure of last week. If anyone is thinking of giving it another shot, let me know and I can try and give you some pointers. Magneto has a ridiculously powerful right hook.

Meanwhile I'll just keep soaking my hand. And crying. And bumping into shit.

Ahhh, but I kid - I don't think that I often have negative feelings about people, or wish them ill. I just sometimes wish that I could put on a pair of brass knuckles and hit them in the face a couple of times. That's about all. That would probably give me about as much satisfaction as I could think to want. Ah well.

Do you ever get that itch in the back of your throat that only a gun barrel would scratch? No, me neither.

Posted by kati at 09:44 AM

March 27, 2003

And she's lost it folks

"The generous, wide feet of pachyderms.." --Simon the spastic-coma man

So, one wonders: if you were a cocaine-snorting, tax-evading, self-imposed celibate preacher one hour out of prison, where would you be? If you said "At a Greyhound station in Huntsville, Texas, talking to a posessed whore," you'd be right as rain.

Well, she wasn't really a whore - she was a dancer. An "entertainer," if you will. Oh alright, I guess she *was* a whore.

Now, if you could cast demons out of people in your own name, would you send them back in The Pit right away, or would you consider letting them slide for a couple of prophesies and maybe one or two horseracing tips? Really now, you'd at least think about it. Am I right?

And I don't quote:
JC: My father had a name like that. They called him Oliver Wendell Holmes Cassandra, but they left out the 'L' in Holmes. Homes.
BKR: Don't call me homes, friend. This ain't the hood.
JC: They left out the 'L' - it's just homes.
BKR: I said don't call me homes, John.
JC: Don't call me John, pal!
BKR: Well what's your name?
JC: Shit, it's John. But call me John like it's my name, ok?
BKR: Ok, John. You missing any letters?

But seriously, here is what really gets me about the war: -Oh, were we talking about the war? We must have been. Inevitably, we had to have been talking about the war.
The luxury of tuning shit out by watching the tube these days has been severely compromised. I am mentally vacationing in Aruba - lying in a hammock on the beach sipping a mai-tai. I'd send you all lovely postcards, but I'm too comfortable to get up right now.

Now just because Jesus was born in Israel, that DON'T mean he ain't AMERICAN!!!

Posted by kati at 05:44 PM

March 26, 2003

Axis Shmaxis

Bitter after being snubbed for membership in the "Axis of Evil," Libya,
China, and Syria today announced they had formed the "Axis of Just as
Evil," which they said would be more evil than that stupid Iran-Iraq-North
Korea axis President Bush warned of in his State of the Union address.

Axis of Evil members, however, immediately dismissed the new axis as
having, for starters, a really dumb name. "Right. They are just as Evil...in
their dreams!" declared North Korean leader Kim Jong-il. "Everybody knows
we're the best evils... best at being evil...we're the best."

Diplomats from Syria denied they were jealous over being excluded,
although they conceded they did ask if they could join the Axis of Evil. "They
told us it was full," said Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. "An Axis can't
have more than three countries," explained Iraqi President Saddam Hussein. "This is not my rule, it's tradition. In World War II you had Germany, Italy, and
Japan in the evil Axis. So, you can only have three, and a secret handshake.
Ours is wickedly cool."

International reaction to Bush's Axis of Evil declaration was swift, as
within minutes, France surrendered.

Elsewhere, peer-conscious nations rushed to gain triumvirate status in
what became a game of geopolitical musical chairs.

Cuba, Sudan, and Serbia said they had formed the "Axis of Somewhat
Evil," forcing Somalia to join with Uganda and Myanmar in the "Axis of
Occasionally Evil," while Bulgaria, Indonesia and Russia established the "Axis of
Not So Much Evil Really As Just Generally Disagreeable."

With the criteria suddenly expanded and all the desirable clubs filling
up...Sierra Leone, El Salvador, and Rwanda applied to be called the
"Axis of Countries That Aren't the Worst But Certainly Won't Be Asked to Host
the Olympics."

Canada, Mexico, and Australia formed the "Axis of Nations That Are
Actually Quite Nice But Secretly Have Some Nasty Thoughts About America," while Scotland, *New Zealand* and Spain established the "Axis of Countries That Be Allowed to Ask Sheep to Wear Lipstick." "That's not a threat, really, just something we like to do," said Scottish Executive First Minister Jack McConnell.

While wondering if the other nations of the world weren't perhaps making fun
of him, a cautious Bush granted approval for most axes, although he rejected the establishment of the Axis of Countries Whose Names End in "Guay," accusing one of its members of filing a false application.

Officials from Paraguay, Uruguay, and Chadguay denied the charges.

Israel, meanwhile, insisted it didn't want to join any Axis, but privately, leaders said that's only because no one asked them.

Axis of Evil Wannabes
by John Cleese

Posted by kati at 11:58 AM

March 25, 2003

The Beach

I took off my sandals and walked out onto Hermosa Beach in L.A. at about 1pm yesterday. The sun had escaped its cloud cover just moments before, but the sand was already warm. There weren't many people around at all, and even less evidence of them in the sand that spread around everywhere. It was gorgeous. I wandered down the beach with Kelly and we came to a lone swingset next to an empty lifeguard tower. There was something very surreal in swinging on the beach, looking out to the water and feeling like you could launch out over it. I couldn't remember the last time I had been on a swing with such enthusiasm, and I noticed Kelly and I laughing like schoolgirls for no particular reason. We threw ourselves off the swings, flying weightless for a moment before returning down to the soft sand. More laughter. Then our whole crew wandered along the shoreline - pants rolled up in a futile attempt to keep them dry. There were little Sandpipers that would wade out into the water, and then turn and run like crazy from the tiny waves that would surely engulf them. The water was pretty warm washing over my feet, and it was low tide, so the sand was littered with beautiful shells. Kelly was running ahead, into gatherings of fat grey Seagulls, sending them up into the air and laughing like mad. They were all talking up ahead, but it was impossible to hear over the crashing of the waves. We kept walking along the edge of the water, to where a few novice surfers were trying their luck out by the pier. The water was such a beautiful color, greens and blues - but it wasn't murky. It looked clear and clean, almost grey-blue like freshwater. The waves were big, but not fierce. The whitewater made delicate patterns on the blue surface before vanishing in another wave. Every part of the ocean seemed inviting.

I lost track of the group and just stayed for a while, totally entranced by the picturesque scene all around me. It was so nice to just hear the sounds of the sea, and smell that beachy smell, and not see any people anywhere. I don't know why it is that the beach makes me feel so good. The stress and the tension I had been carrying with me over the weekend seemed to dicipate, threatening even to leave completely. I was able to breathe, like really breathe - when it feels really good and full. I couldn't see or think past what was right before me, and the moment I was currently experiencing. There was just this carefree, exhilirated, peacefulness that took me over for those few minutes alone at the edge of the water. I wanted to save it, and bottle it, and bring it home so that I could keep it with me forever. For just a second I believed that I could just stay there forever and never leave, and that everything would be fine as long as I was right there. For that little bit of time, there was not a thing wrong in the world, and it was fucking great.

And then I walked back off the beach and came home.

Posted by kati at 03:40 PM

March 19, 2003

Seeking the Baffler Meal

St. Patrick's Day was entirely enjoyable this year - lots of corned beef, green beer ....err, I mean cosmos, and Irish-themed hooplah. The glowing highlight however, came at the behest of our very own Didofoot, who I will now pronounce as Queen of All She Surveys.

At a St. Pat's party in Benicia, a young fellow approached the crew with a rather bloated impression of himself. He was either really moronic, really drunk, or both - as he clearly though himself to be the hottest shit there. He claimed his nickname to be "The Smart Guy" though I never heard anyone other than him call him that. Shocking. I would tell you his real name, but I don't actually know it. In any case, he turned his attention to Kristen, trying to impress her with a demonstration of wit, and asked her political affiliation. Without batting an eye, Kristen nonchalantly remarked that she was a militant Young Republican. Game, set, match - he was suckered in, and it was truly over before it began, but the unraveling of our "smart guy" was more than entertaining. He had no idea that he was talking to three people who really don't have hugely emphatic political views (Aaron later commented on how much he admires Kristen's nihilism), or that they were heaping total untruths upon him from start to finish.
Like a master, Kristen quickly wove a web of lies to ensnare the poor fool, with Aaron and Gene flanking her with artfully conservative rhetoric. With every half-assed rebuttal he could think to come up with, Kristen would feed him an ultra-right-wing response that only served to further incense him. He was eating it all up, firing off loaded questions and snide remarks in an attempt to imitate a Larry King-esque interrogation. Kristen, however, remained totally unflustered by his fervor, and her calmness clearly unsettled him.
By this point, I'd like to note that watching this back and forth was like watching three Siamese cats playfully batting around a bit of prey - something they intended to consume entirely, but not before they were satisfactorily entertained.
The whole thing lasted quite awhile, with Kristen, Aaron, and Gene leading this halfwit around by the nose, their comments growing more ruthless. Eventually, the argument reached its pinnacle when Aaron thought of the most extremely inflammatory thing he could say, and said it. The rest of the Young Republican contingent burst into loud, appreciative laughter, and the Smart Guy lost his cool altogether. He made a last-ditch effort to win this mental engagement by trying (unsuccessfully) to get in Gene's face. Commendably, Gene was able to refrain from laughing directly in the kid's face. Then he wandered off and that was that.

Anyway, Kristen left soon after, feeling that perhaps she had done wrong by infuriating this pea-brained party-goer. As she and Gene left, I was asked by several bystanders to thank them for their efforts, as the Smart Guy was known to be "irritating, at best."
And I thank you, Kristen, for your wonderful display of control and intelligence. I'm sorry that the jackass harassed you in the first place, but I thought your handling of the situation was hysterical. Please come out again, and lie to more people I don't know.

That's right, Nate Dogg, it ain't no fun if the homies can't have none.

Posted by kati at 01:06 PM

March 15, 2003

Wife Shopping

Aaron, Khurram, and I spent some time browsing through pictures of potential brides for our very own Prince. Apparently, there were some more recent snapshots of the lovely Pakistani girl his mother had chosen for him. Khurram conceded that she looked better than he had looked the first time they had met – but at that time he was 9 and she was 7. Still, he had his reservations. He’s looking for something a little more “hip,” he says.

Well maybe he’s right, maybe he can do better. She’s pretty, sure, but is she marrying pretty? Could she keep up with a gentleman of leisure?

Potential wife #2 is a young girl at Cal, who attended Khurram’s high school. Although we didn’t get to see pictures of her, Khurram says she’s out because she’s too young. She’s only 19. I mean, what would they talk about? (At this point Aaron interjects that a 19-year-old is at an optimum breeding age, and all three of us take a moment to reconsider the Cal student.)

But seriously, finding a wife can be a challenge for anyone, but even worse when you are tied down to the limitations of Pakistani girls with dowries, who are willing to marry someone they don’t know very well, and who are between the ages of 23 and 26.

Suggestion: A questionnaire or survey of some kind. Very standard kind of stuff.

1. Oral sex: a.-never b.-once in a while c.-continually
2. Name three recurrent characters played by Dana Carvey on SNL.
3. Which statement do you agree with: “Not before marriage.” or “Not before breakfast.”
4. How much money does your father have?
5. Rate yourself in bed on a scale of 1 to 10
6. Are you “good wife” material, or do you talk back?

Possibly some questions regarding her family’s genetic health record, willingness to breed, ability to cook and clean, level of education, etc. But come on now, one must prioritize, or the poor girl will be writing forever.

So maybe we should all keep our eyes open and do our part to help. I’m sure I can find him a nice girl, and I know just what I would say:
“Yeah, I have this friend….he’s a hell of a guy. Very stylish, punctual, tall. Feel like marrying him? How about coffee?”

God, I always cry at weddings.

Posted by kati at 06:45 PM

March 08, 2003

De calores

So, awhile back Sean made a post about his sister's employment at a Mexican restaurant - and a disgruntled customers unending tirade about the bar running out of Vermouth. Just today, I discovered that my parents liquor closet has about 5 enormous bottles of once-opened vermouth. I know where all the Vermouth went!

Posted by kati at 07:04 PM

March 07, 2003

Sadism, anyone?

The other day I got to tag along with Eugene as he went to have more holes poked through him for purely aesthetic gain. The plan was to have his other nipple re-pierced and enlarge the gauges of the rings in his ears. It was to be a veritable game of musical chairs with small metal rings. “Ok kids, when the music stops, jam that ring into the closest bit of flesh you can grab!”

Anyway, we went into the palace o’ piercing – actually called Sixosixo I think – that had been highly recommended by some of Gene’s other pierced pals. It didn’t take long to see why. The place had a really good vibe, with more of an emphasis on the tribal origins of body piercing and less on the … scarier stuff.

First, we encountered Janella. She was really beautiful, short dark hair, golden bullring through her nose, wild look in her eye, etc. She talked to Gene awhile as I looked around in awe, trying not to stare open-mouthed at the syringe salesman who had just walked in with holes in his head big enough to fit my forearm.

Enter William, the piercer himself. Certainly not as scary as I would imagine some piercers to be, he continually looked peaceful and serene. He had dark skin and amazing dreads that fell past his waist, kept out of his face by two of the locks that had been tied together. He had a nose ring, and a barbell going through the bridge of his nose. (owww!) I noticed other scars on his eyebrow and nose, remembrances of piercings past.

So, onto the actual event. Gene opted for an extra piercing in the cartilage of his ear, and so all the ear stuff was first. No big deal. Not even a flinch from Gene on the cartilage. I sat off to the side, biting my lip and bouncing my legs around in anticipation of the main event.

Anyway, William eventually had Gene lie down on the table and got ready to do it. There was a little bit of prep, but then William just told Gene to breathe in and out, and then jammed that needle thing right through. Gene was hilarious. For about 3 seconds, every muscle in his body seemed to tense up, his face turning bright red and sporting a fierce, teeth-baring grimace. His hands had a vice grip on his belt, and little beads of sweat formed instantly on his forehead. And then…it was over. Gene’s face returned to normal, and William finished up and closed the ring. Nipple officially pierced.
I will say for the record that Gene took the whole thing in stride. That did NOT look comfortable at all. I asked him later why he didn’t yelp – as I certainly would have – and he laughed at me.

Anyway, I very much enjoyed the event, and it brought up some questions as to whether or not I am harboring some sadistic tendencies. Sean and Gene both marveled at my pre-piercing bloodlust. I guess I can’t really claim to be a sadist, as I was not particularly aroused by another’s pain, but hell…it was pretty damn cool. Something to think about, at least. Hmmmmm.

Posted by kati at 09:43 AM

March 05, 2003

Apologies Up Front

So as somebody out there may have noticed, it has been a while since I last updated. You know how it goes – precious moments away from the computer turning into hours, then days, weeks, and so on. This unfortunate spiral managed to suck me in, a few weeks back when I could legitimately claim to have been really busy.

But sadly my blog turmoil did not end there. At long last, I finally made back to the web, surfing as I had never surfed before. But even with all this time in front of the screen, I could not post. Why? I had nothing to say…and I felt like after such an absence I had better come back with something good. Didofoot reassured me that it wasn’t necessary, and that my fears of a bad post were unfounded. Still, my lack of creative energy pervaded and nothing happened.

It wasn’t until Monday that Gene gave me the official nerd-term for people like me: Lurker. I lurk around the internet, reading your blogs and offering nothing in return. And, as much as I enjoy the mental image the term conjures up for me, I realized I don’t want to lurk forever.

So what if I don’t have witty repartee, provocative accounts of my nightly adventures, or even creative and well-written lies to fill your heads with. I am not a quitter, damn it, and I am going to stick with this blog thing if it kills you!

I’ve already accepted that this post is about as interesting as a bologna sandwich, but at least it’s here, and your reading it, and maybe I won’t be so silly about posting again. Maybe indeed.

Posted by kati at 02:58 PM