Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Thursday, Nov. 07, 2002 - 12:40 a.m.

Man, I am gettin' short, and that makes me glad. I did get an A on my first final, so that much is cool, at least.

BTW, Lola is on the rampage tonight, so look out.

Is this a disgusting sort of poltergeist, or what?
I would really like to know what the HELL is up with the disgusting panoply of smells suddenly plaguing my abode every day. This morning when I got up, the living room was filled with the smell of mildew.

I do not get it.

We have had no rain. I have not overwatered any of the plants or spilt water on anything which has mildewed. The garbage disposal is empty, the trash is disposed of, the dishwasher is clean. The drains are flowing nicely. Like the other, there is absolutely no discernible source of smell. And yet, the smell of mildew is suddenly overwhelming. Did it smell like mildew when I went to bed last night?

No, my friends, it did NOT.

You will remember a few weeks ago, I reported an inexplicable smell of cat pee around my desk though I do not own a cat and have not entertained any. I am happy to report that has gone. But if I find that mildew-weilding poltergeist, he's dead, people. D-E-A-D, dead. Two times.

Puh-leez.
On the way home from school today, I'm listening to "All Things Considered" on NPR, and some idiot Republican pundit was denying our illustrious president has behaved in a unilateral fashion, citing as an example how Idiotboy has "consulted world leaders" on Iraq.

Huh.

Let's consider for a moment.

consult Con*sult" (k[o^]n*s[u^]lt"), v. i. [imp. & p. p. Consulted; p. pr. & vb. n. Consulting.] [L. consultare, fr. consulere to consult: cf. f. consulter. Cf. Counsel.] To seek the opinion or advice of another; to take counsel; to deliberate together; to confer.

Hm.

So, how again does telling the rest of the world AND the UN "I don't give a flying fig what you say, it's my way or else" fall under the definition of "consulting"?

Just wondering.

Stupid Quote(s) of the Day:
"This case was never about jail time. We wanted Ms. Ryder to take responsibility for her conduct." -- Prosecutor Ann Rundle, after Winona Ryder was found guilty Wednesday of stealing more than $5,500 worth of merchandise at the Beverly Hills Saks 5th Avenue last year.

Oh. Well that's good. It's not like they wasted taxpayer money on a TRIAL or anything. Especially when before the trial, the DA's office said there was no way in hell it was gonna bargain that felony down. So it makes total sense it's not about jail time, sure. (can you hear my eyes roll from there?) I love that word, responsibility. Like when someone with no money steals a fraction of what Winona did and goes to jail for 3 years. And I have to wonder how the Los Angeles District Attorney's office defines responsibility, since Winona has never actually taken any; this entire time she's claimed she didn't steal, she was just researching, and Saks had her credit card, so she just assumed they charge her for the items later. Uh, Winona? You have to actually SHOW them the items, in order for them to *charge you*. Nice items, btw. Among others, they included an $80 pair of socks, a $750 thermal shirt, purses for over $500, a $140 hair band, and a Gucci dress for $1,595.

Come to think of it, at those prices, Saks should be tried for robbery.

"Ryder was a portrait of composure as the verdicts were read. She wore a muted deep purple coat dress and black hair band and showed no emotion." -- Linda Deutsch, AP Special Correspondent

Journalism at its finest. Frankly, Linda, I fail to see how that's news, but I do have to wonder...think Winona paid for that headband?

"I found Ms. Ryder to be a very nice individual. This was never about her character, only her conduct." -- Prosecutor Rundle again, who apparently spent a fair amount of trial time just hangin' out and chatting with Winona.

Uh, Ann? Character IS conduct. Starstruck much?

Sadly, Winona would not comment on the case, except to say "Thanks for asking, I just can't talk right now." Which is really disappointing, because I'm sure she and her attorney are good for a huge number of stupid quote(s), if only I came across any directly. All I've seen are the paraphrased ones. Drat.

And now, my friends, some words of advice...

"I'm sorry" can not fix everything
Listen up and listen good, people. What I'm about to say is God's honest truth, and if you're the kinda person that says hateful crap when you're pissed, you need to pay attention now.

"I'm sorry" does not fix all ills. If you purposely say or do something mean and spiteful because you're all hurt or mad and want to hurt someone else, "I'm sorry" doesn't really mean much of anything. So sorry, but it's true.

Imagine if you will, I am a pretty blue sheet of paper, all shiny, metallic mylar, unmarked, unripped, unfolded. You come along, and because you are in a crappy mood, you say something shitty to me, because your day sucks and I am an easy target. And we've known each other a while, so you really know how to get to the soft spot and drive that sword home, thus assuring yourself full satisfaction. That crappy thing you say to me is like taking a big old honkin' permanent black Marksalot - I'm talkin' the kind cheerleaders use to make those huge signs you can see from the field - and making a big fat X straight across my shiny blue mylarness. Then you feel a little better about your stupid little self, so you go away, and eventually you calm down, and you start to feel a little guilty you winged my ass like that. So maybe you go out of your way and say you're sorry. And you are, but you're really only sorry because guilt kicked in and smacked you upside the head, not because you tore a freakin' hole in my id as wide as fucking Montana. But anyway. You say you're sorry, and you think that makes it all go away, and I am a nice pretty blue sheet of paper again. Know what?

I'm not.

That sorry was nothing more than a smear of Liquid Paper to cover the X up. Maybe you can't see the black anymore, but I'm not a shiny, beautiful piece of paper anymore, am I? And pretty soon, if you make enough of those fucking X's, you can't cover them up at all, they just keep bleeding thru the white out, and I start looking pretty ragged.

That's what you do to other people when you're purposely hateful, folks. You tear a little piece of them away, and no matter how many times you apologize, that little piece can't be replaced. All it can ever be is patched over. So remember that the next time the petty, nasty, hateful little side of you feels like abusing the hell out of another human being just so that for a little while you can feel like a fucking person.

Oh, and watchyerass, because just because I haven't ripped your fucking heart out yet doesn't mean I don't know how to or can't. It just means you haven't ripped me up enough to make me forget *my* humanity yet. But that day is coming, and I won't care when I decimate your fragile pink ass and rip you to shreds.

Word.

Peace out,
Katie

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Yesterday's News - Next Stop

In which Katie shares sad news - Wednesday, Apr. 01, 2015
In which Katie returns after a very long absence - Monday, Jun. 25, 2012
In which Katie pokes her head in and brushes some of the cobwebs away - Thursday, May. 06, 2010
In which Katie asks you to write your congressman again. - Monday, Jun. 02, 2008
In which Katie asks you to please click the link and send the message to protect the rights of artists - Wednesday, May. 21, 2008