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Tonight Mister & I went on chatroulette.com for the first time. WOW! THIS IS THE INTERNET ACCORDING TO 1998! Seriously though, I think we’re finally in the future. How it works: Your webcam pops up in the bottom screen, a random stranger’s webcam pops up in the top screen, and there you both are, looking at each other from anywhere in the world, feeling awkward. You can refresh the chat to find a new stranger by clicking the “Next” button at the top. Many people left the chat once they saw Mister come up, but people looking for a good time stayed. So I had Mister do some tricks for those who hung around; cream cheese was involved and it’s covering his bottom lip in this picture. When a cat popped up, I screeched with joy.

We talked to a guy named Evan from Kansas for about a minute or two, our longest convo of the evening. Goodnight!

My cousin Amanda said she keeps coming to here and seeing the same picture of scary Mister. Here’s my new favorite Mister picture:

Mister is going to cute you:

I spent all my time procrastinating from painting classes (and all other classes) by designing stuff on the computer and writing on my blog. I figured it would be a good idea to take up a career in graphic and web design because that’s what I loved to do. But here I am, working on my own, designing websites and I really don’t like it. I figured out the other day what the problem is: Clients all have different tastes, and none of them are mine. It’s like in college, I loved photography so I took a photo course, but I found I hated doing the projects they assigned us. I wanted to take pictures of what I was interested in, but instead they made us go to public places and set up a self-portrait assignment. BOO.

I have two projects to finish this week, that are very close to being done. one where the client definitely has different tastes than I do, and it’s not looking horrible, but I’m not very proud of it (and wouldn’t want someone to hire me because they saw the website in my portfolio and want me to design one like it for them.) The other client pretty much gave me permission to go crazy and do what I like, but instead that freaked me out and now anything I do looks horrible to me. Well, I’m almost done with the bulk of that project (tonight) and at the end of the week I should have the other project done. Then I’m not taking anymore jobs on (unless they come to me) for a few months, and I’m just going to design for me again, I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT THIS. I just need to finish this week off, it’s going to be tough.

Dear Katie,
You have been sleeping until 11:30am or later (yes, sometimes 2:30pm) for far too long now. Tomorrow (today, because it’s already 12:50am) you will be waking up at 7am to get started on your day. I’m looking at your TeuxDeux list for tomorrow and there are already 12 tasks you’ll need to complete before 5pm, I’m sure you’ll be adding more as the day goes on. If you don’t wake up at 7am, you’ll be screwing yourself as usual. I’ve had enough of your dreams about being friends with the Jersey Shore cast, it’s time to forget about the 4 extra hours of REM sleep, and time to wake up and be a responsible adult.
Love,
Katie
PS Please sit at your desk to work instead of on the couch, your wrist is hurting and it’s probably carpal tunnel from using the evil trackpad instead of the Magic Mouse you spent $70 on and barely ever use.

I’m 10 days into a 365 day photo project featuring Mister. A taste of the awesomeness:


Click Here to see them all!

My dad was watching a football game on TV when profiles for three players came on the screen. The profiles appear under head shots of the players that aren’t pictures, but videos, so they’re moving while looking into the camera (creepy/cool).
Me: Why is only that one guy blinking? Why aren’t the other guys blinking? – Oh wait, that middle guy just blinked. But that other guy is standing so still!
Dad: That first guy is an iguana.
Me: What?
Dad: He’s an iguana, they don’t have eyelids, iguanas don’t blink.

This conversation actually went on for a while but I’ll save you that and end it there.

That my dad was probably all excited for me to update StopKatie with stories of our adventures while I stay with him at his home in Massachusetts this month (and next month, and maybe the month after that?) So here goes my first one:
I told my dad about this “miracle fruit” you can eat and it magically makes your taste buds think anything sour is sweet. I bought a miracle fruit tree a few years ago, but when it was shipped to my apartment from a nursery, it turned out the picture of a beautiful, fruiting tree on their website was all a lie, and all I got was a flimsy branch with two leaves. Guess it would be a few years before the fruit began to show. Needless to say, that stick with two leaves died soon after and I never got to try the magic fruit. Now they sell it in pill form. “Imagine, you can take this pill, let it cover your tongue, then eat a lemon and it tastes super sweet! It satisfies your sweet tooth! What a great way to lose weight!” I exclaimed (obviously, see all those exclamation points?) He looked at me over his glasses and said, “Katie, if I want something sweet, I’m just gonna eat a slice of chocolate cake.”

I didn’t realize it would be over a month before I posted something new here. It’s not that I got bored, it’s that I got busy. I’ve been working my ass off to get some projects done this past month and I’m finally beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m in Montclair for now, but I’m going to live in Massachusetts for January where I’m going to buckle down and organize my freelance stuff, as in, create my online portfolio AND design some business cards for me. WOW! I’m feeling good about that, no I’m feeling great. I’ll be back in Philly starting February because as it turns out, I really like Philly. Also, I just had a déjà vu, it’s still going on, of me typing this exact post on StopKatie, HEEYO!

When I was in first grade, there was a break during the day where the teacher would send us three at-a-time to the bathroom across the hall. One day I was doing my thing on the toilet while two other girls climbed like monkeys on the stall walls. They were also the girls who tried teaching me that wetting toilet paper and throwing it up to the ceiling was cool. I kept telling them to stop because I had a little poopy to take care of and we were going to get in trouble. Just as I was flushing and opening the door, the teacher came in and caught them hanging off the walls. Somehow I was blamed for this as well and she had the three of us stand in front of the class while she called the office to tell on is. The whole class sat and watched while I cried and the other two girls looked guilty. The principal came down and lectured us. What an asshole that teacher was for not listening to me. If I were a teacher, I’d listen to the kids instead of being a senile old bitch and thinking they’re just lying. I was a seriously well-behaved kid in school, except for my farting and burping, I was really afraid of authority!