This cat is cooler than you.

Dude.

My Feelings (Mostly Negative) About Ice.

What's that you say? It's the only known non-metallic substance that expands when it freezes? That it's an important part of global climate and the water cycle? That glaciers are pretty and stripey? 

I DON'T CARE! FUCK YOU, ICE!

Yesterday was the first time I've seen ice in probably years. It is ice, not snow, that drove me from New England. Think I'm exaggerating? I cried when I heard the words "wintry mix" uttered over the radio a couple of days ago. Cried! Like a baby! 

Ever since the day I slipped and fell on black ice outside the chapel of St. Catherine's School (since I'm already grumpy, I might as well mention: FUCK YOU SISTER SUSANNAH! I have had a happy and productive adulthood without learning how to write the letter "b" in cursive according to your arbitrary rules. Although I have lived in sin and no longer believe that Jesus is my Savior and for that matter, I assume the Pope is kind of a twat, so maybe you should have tried HARDER!), I have hated ice. 

I walk around like a little old lady which I always think is going to help but it DOESN'T, because if ice wants you, it will have you. And you can say hello to a bruised tailbone, is all I'm going to say. Nothing hurts more than a bruised tailbone, except maybe getting shot or having a baby or getting your toenails torn off or occasionally really bad indigestion which is NOT THE POINT, let us just say that it hurts. And that I really, really, have strong, distasteful feelings for that slippery stuff. Okay? Let us never speak of this again.

Except to say that here's a really suggestive image of a girl sucking on a icicle. Like, almost NAFW. This girl's going to be one hell of a troublemaker when she grows up.

Yo dog's so ugly, her mama had to tie a steak around her neck to get your mama to play with her.

See what I did there, to that "your mama" joke? Heh.



One thing's for sure: Bobo's not making it to "cuteoverload" any time soon.

Good God, can my attention span GET any shorter?

Once considered (by me anyway) solely the provence of annoying teenage girls, Twitter has become the new... what? The new black? The new blog? The new me? You have 140 characters to say something clever, which believe me is a lot easier after drinking. Which is why I've taken to shots starting at 11 am, which is usually when I publish my first Twit, as I like to call it, of the day. (The technical term is "Tweet" but I think A- this is because they realized that 'Twit' made them all sound like idiots and B- they decided saying it with a French accent would make it sound less moronic. Which is usually true.)

Anyway, regular readers (hello.. hello...hello...) will notice that I have a new! Twitter feed bar to the right of this intensely brilliant post. Until this post goes further down the page. In which case it will be to the right of the next intensely! brilliant! post. You can also sign up for my twitter feed at www.twitter.com/katiefar. You can even sign up for my updates to get sent as text messages to your cell phone if you join. And then it will be like I'm stalking you, only funnier. Although, I can be a funny stalker. Really. People could tell you stories.

On the Subject of Art

Art, Craft, or Crapola? Sometimes the line is thin my friends. So very thin.

Don't Worry, I'll Not Quit my Day-Job Yet

Of course, that's easy to say when your day job involves screwing with the concept of subject-verb agreement and grooving on thoughts like attempting to render Joseph Cornell's boxes with words. Have I mentioned lately how much I love this thing called art? And how lucky I am to be making it?

Speaking of making art, I have always had this love for claymation. I remember seeing a little making-of special on Wallace & Gromit when I was younger and being obsessed with the idea of making a three-dimensional world come to life. I love me some Pixar, don't get me wrong, but there's something so amazing and fantastic (in the sense of fantasy) about stop-motion videos. So when I got an opportunity in a class to try something completely new, my group decided to do a claymation movie. This was probably insane, as it took us approximately 20 hours to make them, two little films that total approximately 2 minutes of actual footage (and one silly minute of undoing all our hard work.) 

Anyway, in the interest of making sure these movies go viral and become a Youtube phenomenon and financially support me for the rest of my days, I thought that I'd post the first of the two here. Because of my vast readership. And the marketing strategists that make it up. 

Please note this isn't exactly appropriate for work, and please do not gather round your church group and/or my nieces and nephew to see the nice cartoon. And DO enjoy.

"People"

Climbing the Walls

I am afraid of heights. This is fairly well established to anyone who knows me well. Walking on sidewalks looking down at the curb can make me kind of dizzy. I have to close my eyes when I go up on tiptoe. Don't get me started on getting in and out of Hummers. (Because I am this eco-obnoxious, may I just state that I have never, in my life, gotten in or out of a Hummer?) Okay.

What is the most logical form of exercise for such a one, may I ask? Obviously, rockclimbing. Or wall-climbing. But you know, anything that gets you sixty or so feet off the ground, dangling from a dubious purple string and a carabiner between your legs. But for some strange reason, I have always wanted to do it. And on Tuesday (and again today!) I did. 
Injuries sustained. (Yes, they hardly exist, but the one on my elbow hurts like a BITCH!!)

I can't begin to describe how proud I am of myself for this. When it comes to physical fitness, I usually lack a little in the way of... motivation? Confidence? Reflexes? Going on a treadmill was enough to make me sweat (I mean, not in the... you understand). Why? Because I might look like I didn't know what I was doing. And let me tell you, being the only one on a climbing wall in the middle of a gym screaming your fool head off is not the way to deflect attention. But I don't care. Because it was really fun, felt like I was doing something (unlike the treadmill) and allowed me to overcome a fear. Or at least, ignore it for a little while. I think I may have to sleep on the floor tonight, though-- the bed seems a little altitudinous for me today.

PS-- I must also note that it was Friday the 13th! That must account for the elbow bruise.