Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Wednesday, Jan. 15, 2003 - 4:47 p.m.

::sigh::

Okay. Let's try this again. Sorry for my tirade yesterday, but seriously. I have had the longest case of writer's block in history. They should change the name to Katie's Block, I've had it so damn long, and this is the only bit of semi-creative writing I have been able to pony up in quite a very long time, so to lose not one, but *two* decently written entries in a row was pretty harsh. I was in The Zone, too. You know when you've just written a dead-on, thoughtful, creative, intelligent, amusing piece of something, and the planets are all in alignment, and you're just pleased as hell with the way all the pieces just fell into perfect place, jigsaw-locked together? Yeah, like that. That doesn't happen all the time, so I don't take it very well when it tanks on my ass. Especially two misbegotten nights in a row. ::sigh:: The first night, I actually managed to do some writing on a new story for a while - 6 pages. I used my disappointment for that, and it worked fairly well. But the second night, last night, man, that was just too much. My life isn't going so smoothly right now, and this little piece of it is the one thing keeping me sane some days, the one thing I have friggin' control over, and baby, I need some control right now. So yeah, I wept to see the text in this little box disappear, replaced with a real estate locator service. That, my friends, is a Dante's Inferno Room of hell I hope you never have to see. Two hours of creativity replaced with fucking real estate. It was harsh. I had to get up and walk away from the carnage, and I am not kidding when I say I cried, because I did. I really did.

Uh-Uuh
Let me just say one thing: I do not mind people who talk on cell phones while they're driving, as long as they also have the ability to multi-task. I see little difference in carrying on a converstion with someone sitting right next to you in the car or in having one on the phone. Talking and driving is talking and driving. I can see the merits of "hands free" headsets, because there are some times when both yer hands need to be on that wheel, or workin' the wheel and the gearshift, and you really shouldn't be holding onto a phone at a time like that, unless you are willing to sacrifice the phone in favor of self-preservation and avoiding that kid on a skateboard who just tried to pop a wheelie or whatever that shit is called on a skateboard, and is now lying prostrate in front of your car because his sense of balance and the rotation of wheels utterly failed his stupid little 13 year old ass (and yes, believe me, that does actually happen, and usually on the happiest of days, which basically shoots the whole day to shit, because if you strike a 13 year old, whether you're on the phone or not, whether he was hopping curbs or not, in the eyes of the world, you are a reckless driver, and it's your fault the little snot is maimed or dead). (But I digress, and I didn't actually hit the kid, just almost.) The point is, hands-free operation is really the way to go, if one must use a cell phone while driving. But as I said, as long as you are decently adept at multi-tasking, I don't mind if you yak away on a phone while doing so. If, however, you are weaving all over the place or missing exits or just in general exhibiting your innate fucking stupidity, get yer ass offa the fucking phone before I beat you to a bloody pulp with it, you moron.

So. I was in my car today, on my cell phone, and I get to this little intersection where you have to hang back and not block the street if the light ahead is red and traffic is backed that far up. Which it was. So me, I'm hangin' out right behind the limit line and the big honkin' words that say DO NOT BLOCK INTERSECTION, and there's no one behind me. Wide open road, baby. And then this woman in a huge fucking SUV drives up behind me, swings into the left turn lane next to me, mostly passes me, and then goes to cut in front of me, into the DO NOT BLOCK INTERSECTION section. So I, in the middle of a sentence to my friend Runi, with the windows down on my car because it's a toasty day here in sunny CA, I yell at this fucking bitch, "Oh no, you DIH-IHN'T," gun my car, and single-handedly yanking the wheel, rip my car around the front of her big old gas-guzzling, road-hogging, terrorist-supporting, Republican-voting, sun-blotting SUV, thereby cutting her and her little bullshit LA-attitudenal ass off. I don't fucking think so.

And then I started laughing, because I couldn't believe I actually used the phrase "oh no, you dih-in't" or the "word" dih-int, and not only did I fully yell it at her with all my windows open, I was on the phone with someone in Florida at the time AND I did it all one-handed. Dayamn. I am the multi-tasking bitch of the century, oh yes, I AM.

(And as a side bar, I don't really believe she supports terrorism just because she's driving an SUV, I just wanted to add it to the rant, because she really pissed me off. Fucking cut my ass off in traffic when there's plenty of room behind me, step OFF, bitch. We be havin' WORDS.)

Who Says You Can't Buy Anything for Less Than a Buck?
So, yesterday, I went to the 99 cents store, which is something that I rarely, if ever, do. In fact, I think I've done it exactly twice in my entire life, once in Dallas, and once here. Maybe 3 times. I vaguely seem to remember having been dragged into one in Orange County once, a long, long time ago. I do not like the 99 cents store. In part because I am an elitist snob, and in part because I find they tend to smell like very old diaper pails, which I frankly find really disgusting. But I was looking for handy plastic storage items, so I ventured in. It was pretty disappointing, because the plastic storage items were almost non-existent, and what was there sucked, and there were no cute and useless, completely kitschy items like resin clocks with gaudy cherubs on each side of the clock face, either. What earthly good is a 99 cents store that does not carry useless kitschy items? But anyway. I *did* pick up a bunch of cleaning supplies, and was amazed to see the 99 cents store does carry live plants of the type Home Depot charges $3-5 for, and canned oysters. Although I feel compelled to point out that if you are buying oysters at the 99 cents store, you should probably re-examine your menu plan. They have no expiration dates on them whatsoever, and frankly, you do not know where those damn things came from or how long they're good for, and oysters are not something you should mess around with, unless botulism and other bacteria are something you relish. But again, anyway. I also found, besides the cool plants, one of my favorite soaps, which I have been unable to find since moving back to California. Grisi Jabon Neutral (Neutro) soap. Ladies, throw away your Clinique facial soap, and get thee down to the 99 cents store for this stuff, because it rocks. And frankly, I'd rather spend 99 cents than 10 bucks on the same damn soap. This stuff is made down in Mexico, by Grisi, and I swear, it is nicer to your skin than the freakin' Clinique I've been buying since I couldn't find the Grisi anymore. So I was pretty happy to have made that discovery. Even if there weren't any gaudy cherub clocks to be found.

I did, however, see condoms. The big freakin' econo-box. For 99 cents. Ladies, if you are dating a man who cuts corners on condoms, you need to seriously re-evaluate your relationship. A) are condoms really something you want to buy irregular seconds or cut-rate quality of? Seriously. That thin little piece of latex is all that stands between you and hundreds of squirmy little spermatazoa, all of them beating their little spermy heads up against that barrier, looking for a way thru. Not to mention STD's and AIDs. And B, I'm sorry, but the kinda guy willing to settle for 99 cent condoms is not gonna pony up the cash when that cheap little barrier fails and you find yourself swelling at the midsection and looking for a decent ob-gyn, however you might choose to resolve your dilemma. I don't think a guy who pays a buck for condoms is anyone you can depend on for child-support or marriage or a trip to the clinic. A guy who pays a buck for birth control isn't really all that interested in whether you get pregnant or not. He's just showing up to the party with a parachute because he knows that's the only way he's gettin' in the plane. He doesn't really care whether or not the parachute holds, because he's not the one jumping out. So I would think about that, if I were you. But then, that's the kind of thing I think about. Or would, if I were balling a guy with 99 cent condoms...

Will Work for Oats
So, I get all my cleaning supplies and shoe polish and plants, and I pay the nice lady at the register - cash only, no checks - and I step outside the door, and there on the sidewalk is one of those quarter-a-ride electric rocking horses for little kids. And it has next to it a big, hand-lettered sign that says in big red letters, "Out of Work." And I think to myself, "Wow, tough economy."

And I thought the elephants had it bad.

Put that away, damn it
I also went to the post office yesterday, to mail some stuff I managed to avoid mailing over Christmas, including my car insurance (oops), a form for the government, and some Christmas cards, and there was this girl ahead of me in the line who was carrying one of those big mesh shoulder bags for a purse. You could see right thru it extremely easily, even though the mesh was in a different color on each side, and it was pretty fairly tacky, lacking even the kitsch of a 99 cents store item. But anyway, the point is, I could clearly see every single thing in her purse, among them grocery store receipts, a hand-drawn map in black ink on white paper approx. 8.5 x 5.5", a women's checkbook-wallet/coin purse thingie of brown leather, with one of those little brass brandname plates on the outside flap, and more than $80 in cash. 20's, to be precise. And it looked more like $120 or 140, if those were all 20's. She was about 25 years old, and it was clearly her day off, because she was still in her Uggs (house shoes you can wear outside), she had on next to no makeup (if any at all), her hair was up in a clippy, and she was wearing those thin nylon jogging pants and a long sleeve t-shirt, and just generally had an air of slacked-out bum about her. And I wanted to tap her on the shoulder and tell her what a freaking moron she was for walking around with all that cash easily visible, but as you know, I really hate to call attention to myself, and I was still recovering from having dropped a box when I first got there, scattering packing peanuts far and wide, and scurrying to gather them all up and put them back in the box so I could tape it shut. After a debacle like that, you can pretty much rest assured I'm going to make myself as small as possible and just try to get thru the line without any more mishap. So tapping some natural blonde on the shoulder to point out what an idiot she is is just something I didn't feel comfortable doing. Besides, if she's managed to attain the wisened age of 25 without having learned this lesson in life, it's probably one she needs to learn the hard way, and who am I to stand in the way of a well-earned and deserved life lesson? Nay, my friends, that is not my way.

I told The Boyfriend about it when I got home, and he asked me was she pretty. And I got all bent out of shape about it, because what the hell does it matter if she's pretty? Ugly girls get mugged too, damn it. I don't think a girl's attractiveness is necessarily a factor in whether or not someone decides to help themselves to her 80 bucks. Or worse. He said that's not what he meant, but then watching Discovery Channel last night, that led into a debate over whether or not pretty people get picked on more or are valued more when they go missing, if they appear more sympathetic or make a more desirable target, and I think there's truth to a person's appearance being a factor in how we perceive them, but I still think whether or not a woman is pretty has nothing to do with whether or not she should walk around with cash waving about in full view of passersby. But since I am one of those girls who seems fairly invisible in the world, clearly, I am safe to go walking up dark allies any time I feel like it, or stand on a street corner waving cash, because no one's going to molest me, on account of my not being pretty enough and apparently slinging an attitude around like a scythe that says "I am not interested in having sex with you, you chauvenistic dickhead, so bug the fuck off before I beat you." I was not aware of that particular aura, but okay... If I were a supermodel or had big accoutrements, that would apparently not be the case, but since I am just a normal girl next door with a brain, I have *nothing* to worry about. Sheesh.

Bygones.

In the last two days, not counting the last 24 hours:
Laci Peterson sleuthers: 62
--->subcategory of people searching the Laci Peterson Husband Theory: 5 (included in above total)
Nosy Katie Doyle googlers: 12
Plastic surgery-obsessed searchers: 9
--->broken down into the following sub-categories:
Shania Twain
Michael Jackson
The Catwoman
And Brittany Spears, not actually yet a sub-category, since she just made her first PS appearance last night.

Most Unusual Search of the Day:
unwritten law up all nite tab

Which leads me to ask, is that a search for tablature for the Boomtown Rats song "Up All Night," or is it a search for tab for a song with the same name by some group called Unwritten Law, or is it a search for tablature for both "Up All Night" and "Unwritten Law," and did a group called Up All Night release a song called "Unwritten Law?" At any rate, I now have the image of a rather skanky-looking and shaggy Bob Geldof slinking about on an unmade bed with a python, singing the chorus to "Up All Night" going round and round my head, so thanks, whomever you are. You couldn't at least search out the tab for "I Don't Like Mondays"?

Bygones.

Favorite Search of the Day:
BURBERRY SUCKS

Don't mince words, my friend, how do you *really* feel? :) I should pair this with the search for +golf +promote +plaid, which makes me wonder what the odds are that golf actually does promote plaid, or vice versa, and while it might hold true that all golfers have at some point worn plaid, does it follow that all plaid wearers have at some point played golf?

Someone in France is interested in the Detroit Group and SUV's.

Someone else is searching out information on the Tuskegee Syphilis experiment and the guy who headed that atrocity up.

Luke Perry seems to have managed to retain 2 of his fans, one of whom is searching for a fanclub. Honey, I'm sure those are few and far between, but you go, girl, you go.

Bygones.

Is it just me, or is katie riyadh a strange thing to be surfing 3 times on two different days?

And whomever searched I want to stomp some guys nuts could probably use a good stiff margarita. On the rocks, with salt.

T-A-C-K-Y
Okay, who else had the sad misfortune to watch any part of the AMA's Monday night? And whose sad, sad idea was it to have the Osbournes host the damn thing? What, Diana Ross was in rehab, and you couldn't find a mullet-haired, long-moustachioed singer who could actually read, you had to get the single most atrocious group of people since Anna Nicole and her bunch? Ye gods. As you guys know, I used to work in teevee production once upon a time, and as such, I tried watching the Osbournes. I kinda had to. Everyone I worked with swore it was the funniest damn thing they'd ever seen in their lives, and when you work in "reality" teevee, you watch the competition and whatever horror oozes out of every drunken 20 year old fratboy producer's skull. So you can be cutting edge and all that other bullshit the people who work in "reality programming" like to call themselves. (Bygones) So, I have seen 3 episodes of The freaking Osbournes, because I basically feel you have to watch 3 episodes of something before you can unequivocally state it sucks the wad and then some. You can empirically state it after one episode, but not with any impunity, so 3 is pretty much the minimum for the voice of actual authority. I find The Osbournes just slightly lower on the Scale of Horrific TeeVee Atrocities than the ANS show. And watching the AMA's, I had to wonder why in hell anyone thought having that overrated, ill-mannered, tacky, ignorant family and their awful dog host anything would lend it any kind of air of respect. Jeez Louise. And what was with that freaking dog? Sharon Osbourne certainly had her dose of liquid boor that evening, I'll say that. And move on.

I did have a discussion with my friend - at whose home I was - whether or not Shania Twain had had plastic surgery. But you will NOT find me googling such a thing. Because I do not care that much about it; the discussion was merely a way to pass the 3.5 minutes during which the woman was performing, because I mean, seriously, you have to do SOMETHING for that time period. But you people googling it? Please. Find a hobby. That includes you, Mr/Ms. American Meteorological Society. How about you concentrate on accurately predicting the bloody weather, steada wonderin' whether or not someone's parts are theirs? Here's a clue for all you people out there looking at a woman's body and wondering whether or not those things are real: if they're ramrod straight and don't move, they're fake. If they're suddenly larger than they ever were before, and she's not pregnant, they're probably fake. If she hangs upside down, and they stay firmly lodged in the "center" of her chest, they're fake. If she lies on her back and they don't fall to the side, they're fake, and if they're large and don't fall under her armpits at all, they're REALLY fake. If they don't bounce at all when she walks or hiphops, they're fake. If they *do* do all the aforementioned things, they're either saline or the real deal. For those of you who rushed off to the computer as soon as she took the stage, no Shania has not had them done, she was wearing Wonder Bra and had them jacked up to her chin and yanked together, which is why they looked so much bigger than they used to. Okay? Mystery solved. Please go back to more worthwhile pursuits, like gossiping about the pretty girl in the office down the hall or searching out whether or not some guy is on steroids. How the hell come no one ever googles THAT? Jeez.

Hm. I sound a tad bitter today, huh? Clearly, I've not yet recovered from losing two entries in a row, followed by an off-day which is so totally NOT in The Zone. ::sigh:: Oh well. They can't all be good ones. Tell ya what. We'll start anew tomorrow.

Peace out,
Katie

0 comments so far

I would as soon destroy a stained glass window than an artist such as yourself.

*HUGS* TOTAL! give katiedoyle more *HUGS*
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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