Sunday, April 14

What kind of underwear does Aaron Carter wear, you ask? Well, wonder no more.
Posted by hKath at 2:37 AM ()


Thursday, April 11

I want to make videos for people the way Amelie does. We tried once, for Dave while he was away. But all we ended up with was four minutes of an infomercial and a strange Ai-Karate type commercial.

Is that how you spell Ai-Karate? And really, how fucking old am I, anyway?

No, really.

Today I pulled out my records. The real ones. The ones I listened to long before anything else. The ones that have survived the test of time. Blossom Dearie. Dinah Washington. Betty Hutton. June Christie. Sarah Vaughan. Anita O'Day. Billie Holiday. And what I thought was "Damn. [all of my thoughts start with the word "damn", in case you hadn't noticed] I'm going to be the oldest old lady in the nursing home."

You know.

Because all the other old ladies will be listening to music their grandkids think is prehistoric. Like Weezer. And REM. And U2. And I? I will be listening forever to this album Blossom Dearie made in six hours on my birthday twenty-six (or is it twenty-four?) years before I was born. Compared to their prehistory I will be a sphere of molten lava.

Today it seems the kids on my street decided to hold funerals for themselves. There are chalked gravestones on the sidewalk with dates like "1992-2002", and names and epitaphs and the ever-popular R.I.P. I wonder what sort of twisted day care provider let this happen. I've noticed that the house that stands opposite these drawings also serves as a babysitting service, but haven't spoken to the people who run it yet. I'm not sure I want to anymore. Creepy.
Posted by hKath at 12:48 AM ()


Wednesday, April 10

What an eventful day. I hope all the rest of my days are... not this eventful. I would get tired.

Firstly, I forgot my wallet this morning and realized only as I was getting off the bus and dreaming of the footlong sub I was going to have for brunch. So I went to work on an empty stomach and struggled through five hours, receiving chips, which was its own special brand of torture ("Oooh, sour cream and cheddar? I didn't know we - ow. My stomach just imploded.")

Then Fiona and I rushed over to Revival to see Martina and the Lesters, and I was intending to get drunk, but I drank a lot, and I didn't get drunk at all. Everyone's favourite Jack-ass (with a capital Jack) made an appearance and succeeded in pissing me off royally simply by opening his mouth (oh, and inserting his decidedly squishy body where it didn't belong - ugh.)

But the show was good and I didn't get all anti-social. There is someone I still miss to the point of near-tears, but what can you do? It's not like I can go up to somebody and say "Hey, remember how much fun we had?" and expect everything to suddenly be alright. I'm not that simple a person.

After the show we went grocery shopping with Rosemary and then she gave us a ride home. Talk about those Old Skool Kath days. Everything a true Kath-head should know. Putting Rosemary and me in a grocery store again was like asking for the dead to rise from their tombs. I remember the strange greek potato man. I remember buying strange kinds of cream cheese. It was all... so... very... long... ago.

When I got home I watched Divided We Fall and developped a huge crush on Csongor Kassai, whose name linkage is completely useless because if you follow the link you will see no picture and a list of about four films, all Czech, some of which don't even have English titles. But dammit... dammit. He had me wondering how much English he spoke. Because, I was thinking he'd make a great Josef Kavaliler... and with an authentic accent to boot.
Posted by hKath at 2:57 AM ()


Sunday, April 7

In the immortal words of Misha Barton before she made that dreadful lesbian boarding school movie with Violet from Coyote Ugly, I'm feeling much better now.

Good timing. You know, with the whole daylight savings time thing. I feel all too controlled by the clock. Truth is I've been feeling better for a couple of days.

I want to do random hanging-out things. This comes at a time when I actually have the opportunity to do random hanging-out things. The Earth's clock is right on schedule this year.

Next week Adam finishes school and we will start spending more significant amounts of time together, because dammit, we are *going* to write that damn musical. I may even pull out my music writing software and lock us in a room with a computer and a TV/VCR and nothing else.

I want to go see Kissing Jessica Stein again. I want to take Fiona. And Adam. And Dustin. All my girly boys. Shana can come too, which will give me the opportunity to apologize to her.

Here's what happened. Shana was sick and had lost her voice. She called the store. I answered. Now, I get two or three "silent" calls a day, quotation marks put there because they're not actually silent. You can either hear children breathing on the other end, or *ahem* someone going about their business while their cell phone dials us over and over.

Sound familiar, AJ? ;)

So I get a silent call. And I do what I usually do, which is first assume they have a bad connection, then when I hear the breathing on the other end, I say, "I can hear you BREATHING..." really angrily. Except today I hear ".... kath... ... kath... ... it's shana..." but of course I can't hear her at all, because it's like hearing distinct words in her breathing. So I'm still annoyed. "Helloo-o?"

Damn, I'm a dork.

But really, if you can't make any sounds at all, like ANY sounds, except for your ability to emit a slightly bent breath every once in a while that's supposed to sound like a word, please get someone else to call in your place.

Kath = not a mindreader. And even if I was, do you think I could read your mind over a telephone line? Why didn't you just think really hard and expect me to understand you?

Posted by hKath at 3:04 PM ()