Katie Doyle, Girl About Town

Monday, Nov. 11, 2002 - 1:52 a.m.

It's all about the chocolate pudding, people.

I have spent the entire day doing design stuff. I do not ever want to draw a circle again, and only God knows how many more of the damn things I will draw until school is done. My hand hurts.

Get Thee Behind Me, Spam
Do you ever go an entire weekend with no email love? My inbox has been empty all weekend. Sad, really. I did get lots of spam, though. Spam is like an email hit on. Spam is that guy you would never go out with in a MILLION years, who leaves his shirt unbuttoned halfway down to his navel and wears more gold chains than Mr. T, and with a helluva lot less taste. The one you would rather french a frog than go out with even for coffee while you try and figure out the nice way to tell him you're not interested in even being friends. Spam is "hey baby, where you been all my life" and "damn baby, that dress looks good on you, but I would look even better."

For some reason, spam makes me really angry. It didn't used to. It used to be "oh, look, spam. hit delete." But now it's like...well, it's like something I typed out but then deleted because the coarseness of it was shocking even to me, and I know my propensity for cussing. What irritates me is that no matter how many times you report it or unsubscribe or block it, it STILL gets thru to sit there, mocking, in your inbox.

Then there's the porn spam, which is really, really vile. I help a friend of mine out with her home business sometimes, and she gets tons of spam, almost all of it porn geared toward men. And tonight, one of them was child porn, which is REALLY gross, especially when there is a picture attached, which there was. So I sent that off to the FBI, thank you very much, with a note saying roughly, "please get this guy because this is really gross, and oh yeah, have a nice day and thanks for your work, blah blah blah."

Now I am all paranoid the FBI will think I had something to do with it. I'm sure I have enough trouble with the FBI and a folder as thick as the phone book, seein' as I've been outspoken and published several times, enough to probably warrant a page or two in some file in a drawer in at least a very dark and damp basement somewhere in Washington DC. Like that warehouse they shove the ark into at the end of Raiders. But I digress. At any rate, I imagine this was one more thing to stick in my file. And with the current administration being what it is, I'd just as soon NOT draw undue attention to myself, frankly. Stupid spam. ::sigh::

Herb, clean up on Aisle 9
I went to the drug store today to buy stuff like toothpaste and razors and Double Dutch Chocolate Slim Fast bars, stuff like that, and I wrote a check, which I have done at that store many a time. No problema, everything cool, situation normal.

Except that it wasn't, because the check-out guy couldn't find his book with the drivers license codes for all 50 states, and since my license is from another state not this one, chaos ensued.

He looked under the counter, he looked on the counter, he looked in the cabinet, he looked under the phone, he looked around the phone, he looked in all his other notebooks for things like bad check writers and credit card proceedures and whatever else you have to know to work at a drug store sales counter, and there was no book. So he got this really exasperated look on his face and muttered a cuss word or two under his breath, and then got on the phone and called someone else to ask where the book was, only they told him to look where it wasn't, so he got even more angry and said a cussword out loud, and then called the pharmacy and told them to call him, and meanwhile, I'm standing there with a very nice girl and some guy who looks suspiciously like a skinhead and is buying beer and has this really pissed off look on his face and then takes the beer back to the cooler and gets a new six pack, because by now all the shiny cold newness of the first pack has worn down, and then his friend comes in and says "dude, what the hell is taking so long," and he says he's waitin' for me to get okayed, and I apologize to both him and the girl, who is really nice, but he just kinda looks at me like I'm the biggest moron in the world, and the clerk is still all pissed off, and I am starting to break into a prickly sweat, because I have spent my entire life trying to just fly under the radar every day and not get noticed, and now the situation has reached the point where oh boy, am I noticed, and I desperately wish I had gotten cash from the ATM, and finally, when I am about to have an aneurism, the pharmacy calls and gives the guy the code, which is 42.

42. Deep Thought's Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything.

I'm sure there's irony in there somewhere, and when I figure it out, I'll let you know.

But for now, there's chocolate pudding, and that's good enough for me.

Peace out,
Katie

ps. movie trivia for the more astute of you: who can tell me the movie quote on this page, who said it, and which movie it's from?

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Katie Doyle watches too many 80's movies.

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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