Category: kat

Give Without Being Asked

They were outside the local grocery store, sitting on the ground beside the soda machines.  She looked young, but her face was hard around the eyes.  He was probably just as young as she, but had grown facial hair to try to look older.  Their dog kept a watchful eye over their backpacks full of worldly possessions.  They watched the shoppers go in and out of the grocery store, but looked away when someone returned their gaze.

I walked past them as I went into the store, my head full of my own worries.  I registered that they were probably homeless or at least traveling to their next home on foot, but I went on in to do my shopping.  I was thinking about the heat pump I had to buy just days before Christmas, days before my vacation.  I was wondering where the money would come from, how I was going to make it all happen.

I did my grocery shopping in a rush and loaded everything into the car.  When I turned the key in the ignition, I was grateful that the vents were still blowing warm air onto my cold face.  I was happy that even if there wasn’t heat at home, there was heat in the car.  And that’s when it clicked in my head.  It was cold outside and those two kids (I’m someone’s mom, I’m past 30, I can call them kids) were sitting on the frigid ground.

The couple wasn’t asking anyone for money, but you could feel the yearning coming off of them in waves…the yearning for somewhere warm to sit, something hot to eat.  I have been without a home in my adult life, and I have been without a dollar in my pocket…and I would never have begged or asked for anyone’s help.  I would’ve sat silently in the cold, just like the two kids and their dog on this day.

So I went for my wallet and got out all the cash I had, just two five dollar bills.  I thought about putting one bill back so I’d have something for later, but I had a car and I had a home–even though my house was as cold as the outdoors, I had a house to call my own.  I turned off the car, took both five dollar bills and approached the couple.

“Hey, I know you’re not asking for anything, and I don’t want to assume, but I’d like to give you money for lunch.  And if you don’t need the money for lunch, please buy a special treat for your dog,” I said, and I held out the money.

The young man took the bills, nodded and said, “It helps, every bit helps on the road.”

The woman whispered something that sounded like “oh thank God for you.” 

I patted their dog on the head and went back to my car, drove away and went back to my life.

In looking back, I think the whole scene is something I wanted to share because as we move toward a new year, I’d like to ask you all to give without being asked.  That couple didn’t ask me for anything, but I knew in my gut that I should offer.  They shouldn’t have to ask–I can look upon them, or anyone in that situation, and know with simple human compassion that I should give.  Pay it forward, and do something kind and good just because you can.  It doesn’t have to involve giving money; hold the door open for someone else, listen to someone who needs to talk, tell the cashier at Home Depot that her smile made your day.

We all have something, even on our darkest, brokest day, to offer to someone else.  Share what you have.  May your new year be full of blessings.

Vintage Kat Box from 2002! Facial hair…

Published on FreakinAsheville.com way back in 2002…

Goatees Galore, Moustache Mayhem and Beard Bedlam

 

“Hey, babe, do ya think I should grow a beard?” your man inquires.  Ladies, do not reply immediately.  Understand that this is the male equivalent of the ever-popular women’s question, “Honey, do you think I look fat?”  If you say “yes” and agree that he should grow a beard, goatee, moustache or some weird hybrid of the aforementioned facial hair styles, he’ll immediately ask you what’s wrong with his face.  If you say “no” and tell him you think facial hair is not the way to go, it’s an affront to his masculine decision-making skills, as he has already decided to sprout fur on his face whether you like it or not. 

Recently over dinner with a fellow and his girlfriend, the fellow asked us if we thought he should grow a goatee.  His girlfriend and I both shrieked and looked horrified, shaking our heads.  I told him he could grow a goatee and look okay in it if he also pierced one ear and wore jaunty black berets and turtlenecks year round.  He didn’t like the beret idea, so I think he’s let go of growing his facial hair. 

Some guys look great with facial hair.  My annoying ex-husband had a goatee when we were married.  The ex-husband kept it well groomed and it was okay by me.  I hated it, though, when he would get upset or worried and start twisting the hair on his chin.  He would twist it in these ridiculous little points while he fretted, but then he wouldn’t untwist them and he’d walk around looking like a moron with these pointy blobs of hair on his chin.  That wasn’t cool. 

Then one day, the ex-husband spontaneously shaved off the goatee.  The horror!! I couldn’t look directly at his naked face; it was too weird.  It was like he was missing an eye or an ear; the goatee was part of how I expected him to look each day.  Without his goatee, he was a one-man freak show.  He grew it back shortly thereafter. 

Now, years later, I see him sporting the same goatee that I once enjoyed and I think it looks stupid on him with his current hairstyle.  Either the goatee has to go or the hairstyle has to change.  It’s part of an complete look, this facial hair business.  The total look is why I told my friend he didn’t need a goatee; it just doesn’t suit his style.  It’s sort of like wearing overalls and penny loafers: the two just don’t go together. 

The Bloodhound, Freak in Chief Extraordinaire, was sporting a “soul patch” on his chin when last I saw him.  The soul patch reminds me of that old TV show with Gilligan in it when Gilligan wasn’t Gilligan but was some other character.  Anyhow, Bloodhound scarred me for life by referring to his new crop of facial hair as a “flavor saver.”  AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!  See, that’s one reason right there, ladies, to tell your man that he can’t have facial hair because he’ll be wandering around saying gross things like “flavor saver.”  Blegh. 

The Boyfriend despises facial hair and would probably shave every hour and a half if his schedule permitted.  I like a little stubble at the end of the day on his face.  It’s just manly and scruffy and makes it seem like he’s a hard-working man even when he’s been slacking and doing nothing harder than taking a nap.  If he asked me if should grow a beard, I’d scream.  Full beards immediately make me think of Grizzly Adams and I don’t want him bringing his pet bear and raccoon over to my house for movie night. 

My advice to women when hit with the facial hair question (it’s inevitable, ladies, so be ready) is to answer a question with a question.  He’ll say, “Should I grow a beard/goatee/moustache?”  Your immediate response should be, “Do I look fat?”  He’ll probably say some form of  “yes,” you’ll cry hysterically, he’ll apologize, he’ll bring flowers and take you out to dinner and spend a month or two making you forget that he called you fat, and voila, facial hair discussion is history.

adventures in phoneland

so my cell phone (my nice new one, let me point out) stopped charging monday on any charger i had.

took it to suncom today and they said that it’s not insured, i’ll have to buy a new one.

and i said bullcrap, it has a 12 month warranty.

and they said then you’ll have to send it back to the manufacturer yourself.

and i said whatever, i need a loaner phone.

they said we don’t do that (sales associate is belching into his necktie repeatedly, super attractive)

i said bullcrap.

but at that point (had spent almost an hour in their store to get this far), i had to leave to go have lunch with minime at school.

had lunch.

went back to my office.

called the store, asked for the manager.

he’s at the mall.

like at orange julius?

at the mall.

do you mean he’s working at the kiosk in the mall??

yes.

give me that number.

ring ring ring

manager speaking.

explain story.  he says he can give me a loaner  but that i have to return the phone myself to the manufacturer.

i said walmart doesn’t make me send defective jeans back to taiwan with a broken zipper, they just give me a new pair.

he said he didn’t have another blackberry like mine in any of his stores, that it will have to come from blackberry.

arg, i said.

i call blackberry…hold, hold, hold, hold, hold, finally a real person!

they say they don’t take consumer returns, that i have to return it through corporate suncom.

arg, i said.

i call the 1-800 sun com service number…and i hold, hold, hold, get transferred, hold, hold, hold…and they say i should take the phone to the local store for repair.

i called the manager at the kiosk…

and he said oh my bad, yes we’ll have to fill out the warranty paperwork and send it for repair.

and i said i have already spent over 4 hours of my day on this what is WRONG with you people?

he said it’s christmas we’re so busy (and i hear slurrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrp, so this guy’s so busy he’s enjoying a smoothie from orange julius while on the phone with me)

so then i have to tell my boss the whole story.  and he makes a face and then wants to file a complaint with the FCC and the state attorney general and on and on…and finally i whisper can i have the company credit card to put a deposit on a loaner phone before i leave town for the week

and ooooooooo that was a bad question oooooooooooooooooooooo

but after an hour, yes, i can get a loaner phone.

it’s not been a fun day.

The colder it gets…

…the grouchier I get.

So many of you weren’t sure I could get any f’ing meaner, but apparently, there’s an all new level of hateful that revolves around it being as cold indoors as it is outdoors.

The heat pump went out about 9 days ago.  We have resorted to holding fresh baked muffins to our faces for warmth.

On the bright side, now that my pocket is a grand lighter, the parts necessary are on the way.  When they’ll get installed is another story, but progress is being made.

I will get through this by chanting over and over, warm chocolate chip muffin pressed to my third eye, “on Saturday, I’ll be in Florida…on Saturday, I’ll be in Florida…ommmmmmmm”

‘I am legend’ is a big honkin’ bummer

Baby bro o’ mine wanted to go see I Am Legend.  The previews didn’t light my fire, but if there’s a remote possibility of see Will Smith in the shower like in I, Robot, I’m in.  So off we went to Cinebarre to see what the movie was all about.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my gawwwwwwwwwwwwwwwd how depressing!   Spoiler alert–spoiler ahead…  THE DOG DIES!  C’mon, now, alien creatures leaping out of people’s abdomens, spiders hatching out of someone’s face: that’s the kind of stuff I can handle.  But when the beloved scene-stealing dog dies, geeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeez.  Nevermind that the whole movie is pretty much one big apocalyptic bummer, but the dog has to die?!

If you’re suicidal or depressed in any way, skip this movie.  I’m not saying it’s a bad movie, nope, just that it’s not uplifting or smiley.  Dead dog = sad movie.  (but I did get to see Will Smith shirtless so it was at least worth the price of admission)

My 2 Mikes

This morning, I had to open up my office and open the switchboard as our receptionist was out sick and no one else was around.  I had to sit at the front desk for a while, make coffee (which I don’t drink, so who knows if it was even good?) and answer the phone.  All of this is outside the realm of my normal duties, but when someone’s sick, we all pitch in and change things up to cover the situation.

I’m answering the madly ringing phone, accidentally hanging up on some of Asheville’s most important people repeatedly, when someone appears at the desk… when I look up, I’m startled to see Mike!  And I’m giddy and frazzled all at once, trying to do a job that’s not mine while trying to write down my contact info for Mike.  If I’d been of clear mind, I would’ve let the phone ring and given him a hug.

Travel back in time with me…let’s go all the way back to high school, more than 15 years ago…I was hott back then, too, of course.  I was a lovely goth/punk/freak girl, a member of a posse of weirdos in my school.  We were a large but closeknit group of guys and girls, freshmen through seniors…Sharon, Chris, Sean, Adam, Robin, Sherry, Christina, Mark, Scott, just to name a few of the freaks, there were so many more.   We were cool.

And in our clique were the Mikes: Mike and Mikey.  I don’t remember how we decided which one was going to be Mikey, but they both came to our social group as Mike. 

Just a smidgen younger than I, the Mikes were wonderfully fun, and they absolutely adored me.  Blue-eyed Mikey offered to build a shrine to me.  Mike worked with me for a while at the mall, cutting up with me to a ridiculous extent in the walk-in freezer.  If my phone was ringing, odds were pretty good that it was one of the Mikes on the other end.

I adored them both in return, but I couldn’t let them know that!  If I had “chosen” one over the other, it would’ve ripped our social group to shreds.  I loved Mikey for his sweet spirit underneath a rough exterior and Mike for his quiet sarcasm.  In appropriate high school behavior, I had to give them both equal amounts of hell and abuse their kindness.

High school was over in a blink even though at times it felt like it would last forever, and I lost track of most of my social circle.  Email didn’t exist for us then or instant messaging or blogging or cell phones, all the things that can keep us in touch so easily now.  I lost touch with both of the Mikes, and life went on…college, weddings, minime, more college, years disappeared.

And then that brings us to today, a chance meeting at the front desk of my office.  What did I write down for Mike? Hopefully my phone number in full or my whole email address, I don’t even know for sure.  No matter, I am grateful for the nostalgia that’s rippled through my thoughts today, so grateful to think of people and places that I hadn’t recalled in ages. 

I’d give almost anything to have our group all back together again in one place, but I’ll settle for random meetings as life rolls on…

so whatcha whatcha whatcha want?

Chiquita suggested that I spell out some rules for dating me, the uber hott Katster, so would-be lotharios bearing gifts get it right.

1.  Pretty much I can date as many people as I want at a time, but you can’t.  You can only date me.  “Date,” by the way, is not a euphemism for “bed.”  Just because I date you doesn’t mean I will bed you.  Get over yourself.  You’re lucky I’m even acknowledging your existence.

2.  I deserve gifts and flowers ALL the time, and I require them to put up with your nonsense.  One of my ex boyfriends was so fabulous at this.  He never appeared at my door empty-handed; even if it was just a pack of my favorite gum, the boy brought gifts every time.  He knew how to pay homage to She Who Must Be Obeyed.  Good boy.

3.  I will only tell you I despise red roses one time, and this is it.  If you bring them to me, I will hit you with them.  If you enjoy that, you are too bizarre for me.

4.  Don’t lie to me.  Don’t make up random crap.  I have no tolerance for lies. NONE.  Ask Mr. Kat version 2 if I have patience for that.

5.  I get to remain friends with as many of my ex-boyfriends as I want.  Your ex-girlfriends should fall off the edge of the planet and be snapped up by piranha from outer space.

6.  You should buy me dinner, at least the first date; I’m not looking for a sugar daddy, but I need to know you at least have the means to provide a meal or two…it’s a manly, good thing to do.  You should hold open doors, and you should let me order first at restaurants.  Didn’t your momma teach you any manners?

7.  You should smell good, but manly.  A manly, rugged scent is not sold in the bathroom at any bar, bowling alley or gas station.  I should smell your goodness only when I lean in, not when I’m leaning away, gasping for air.

8.  Compliment me.  I am looking extra especially glamorous in your honor.  Tell me I’m hotttttt, but please don’t say that directly to my cleavage.  I’m up here, thanks.

9.  Hold up your end of the conversation.  My last date was very good at this part, so good I was quite charmed by his company, pleased to spend time with him, not planning my escape.  On the other hand, I have had numerous dates with gents who couldn’t come up with anything, anything, anything to say, so it was an exercise in pulling teeth to get them to talk.  No fun!  You should also be the one to follow-up after  the date with an email, phone call (I probably won’t answer) or text; this shows you are undaunted in your passion for me, even after I’ve been a diva all evening.

 10.  If it doesn’t work out, no harm, no foul.  Don’t talk nasty untrue nonsense about me around town.  You want me to hug you when I run into you at Stella Blue, not enlist one of my posse to beat you up in the men’s room.

 I think these 10 rules are a really good start.  If you can make it beyond the first 10 hurdles, the rest is a cake walk.

I posted this on myspace, but I’ll post it here, too

Why not? It’s my world.  I posted it on my usually neglected myspace blog, but I’ll put it here too…

so it’s a weird time in the life of your beloved katster.  i’m broke, i’m tired and i think i might be lonely.  when i find myself contemplating people i haven’t seen in 15 years–gosh, wonder what ever happened to tamim? or kooky mahala? or all the bitches scott slept with?–then i suppose it’s pretty safe to say i’m a little lonely.

i thought very briefly in a moment of weakness that i might be ready to date again.  and when my ex announced he was oh-so-dateable-and-he-thinks-i’m-just-jealous, yep, then i felt like i’d better have a date for every night of the week and a few extra just for lunchtime giggles.

in reality, ack, no, i really can’t handle dating and being rejected and rejecting other people and all that right now (“now” being a little after 11 PM on a Fri night, i can change my mind about this at any point).  what i really want is someone to just send me flowers (gerber daisies please) and fabulous gifts and leave me the hell alone.

“but kat, didn’t you just say you were lonely?”

oh yeah.  i did.  and i am.  but i think being lonely sometimes is healthy.  gives you room to think about the kinds of people you do and don’t want around.  for example, there are a couple numbers in my cell phone i think i could call (well, text, you know i don’t actually call anyone EVER) right this instant, and voila, there would be a companion on my doorstep.

but i don’t want that.  i don’t want a booty call.  and i don’t want someone who wants me to take care of them.  and i really don’t want to listen to an earful of problems.  and most importantly, tonight i don’t want a wet spot on my side of the bed, and since it’s ALL my bed and thus all my side, well, there ya go. sorry, i am known for oversharing at times, my bad.

i do want attention.  i want to be lavished with gifts and then i want to be left alone.  i want to wear mismatched flannel pajamas and read books and eat ice cream for dinner.

but by tomorrow, i could want a line of eligible bachelors at my door…in addition to oversharing, i’m also ridiculously moody.  i think the best thing for everyone to do is go ahead and send me gifts, you can just leave them on the doorstep and scamper away, and also pull together lists of eligible heterosexual employed bachelors in the asheville area that shower with regularity and don’t live with their moms.  thank you, and good night.

***in a PS to this blog, someone on myspace pointed me in the direction of my former roommate mahala’s myspace page after i posted this.  so now i know where she is these days!  the internet is a cool thing.  i am still, however, looking for all the eligible bachelors to line up at my door.