It’s been two weeks since I last spoke to you. In that time,
I’ve spent over 22 hours in a car with Katie.
TWENTY. TWO. HOURS.
If I wasn’t clinically depressed before, I most definitely
am now.
We started last week in Buffalo where Katie apparently felt
the need to go on another nature walk. She spends most of her days just sitting
around but every once in a while gets it in her head that she’s going to go be
active. It’s like she thinks she’s in a Patagonia commercial (let’s be real
though, she doesn’t have the looks to pull that off). Anyway, can someone
explain to me how someone with Katie’s sense of direction and complete lack of
a fight or flight response has not managed to die in the wilderness? I mean,
the minute we get out of eyesight of the car there’s a 50/50 chance that she
won’t be able to find her way back. I’m just waiting for the day that her
getting lost and a gigantic blizzard happen at the same time. With her lack of
fat and/or muscle, she’d freeze in 20 minutes and then I’d be freeeeeeee.
I should have just jumped into the fire and ended it all
In the middle of last week, however, Katie decided she
needed to drive to Minneapolis. Am I the only one who wonders how she manages
to support this nomadic lifestyle with her zero dollar a year salary? She’s
probably a drug dealer. Or a prostitute. Just kidding. No one would pay for that.
For those of you who don’t know, Minneapolis is 11 hours
from Buffalo and even though Katie decided to split that up into two days,
spending that much time in a car with her is painful. Like
someone-shoving-red-hot-razor-blades-into-your-temple painful.
You think I’m exaggerating? She has a playlist that she
listens to every time she drives further than a half an hour and for anyone
under the delusion that she has good taste in music… she doesn’t. Seriously. If
I have to listen to Paula Abdul’s “Straight Up” one more time there is going to
be a blood bath.
It’s not even like we went anywhere cool in Minnesota. We
went to the U of M campus to visit Lexi and I finally discovered one thing I hate more than
Katie: college students. Just kidding. I don’t hate anyone more than Katie but
seeing drunk, slutty girls and flat-brim hat wearing frat boys makes me wonder
why America’s voting age is 18. I wouldn’t trust a single person I saw at that
campus to cast a ballot. I did get to meet my long lost (and butt ugly) brother while there.
While there, we went to 2 different concerts. And when I say
“different” I mean, basically as far on each end of the spectrum you could be. The
first night we saw Ben Gibbard who played an acoustic guitar and sang about
being depressed for an hour and half. The next night we saw Sleigh Bells. I
don’t really know how to describe their sound other than by saying it’s like
someone swinging a chainsaw by your right ear while simultaneously screaming in
your left one.
This is Ben Gibbard. Katie took this picture. Why is she incapable of doing anything right?
Sleigh Bells. My only comment... WTF
I just do not understand Katie and her music. Really the
only common denominator I saw between these two was that most of the audience
was probably on some drug. Weed for Ben Gibbard’s audience and, judging from
the behavior which made chimps looks well-behaved, bath-salts or ecstasy or
some back-woods meth for the Sleigh Bells audience.
She spent the next night with an aunt and uncle in
Minneapolis who, although they took her out for dinner and told her she could
stay with them as long as she wanted, were clearly counting down hours until
she was gone. Unfortunately for them, they have to see her again at
Thanksgiving. I told them they should move, get an unlisted number, and cut all
ties from their old life. That’s the only way to escape Katie. I may not have
that chance but I have to do all I can to keep this from happening to anyone
else. (Note to self: look into setting up a support group or non-profit for
people hurt by knowing Katie)
We swung through Pierre on our way back so we could go to
dinner to celebrate Paula’s birthday. While Tova was supposed to come, she said
she was “sick.” Clearly she is starting to wise up and is trying to extract
herself from Katie’s poisonous personality. She loses out on Mother of the
Year, however, because she allowed Emry and Mariah to go alone. What kind of
parent knowingly sends their children to see Katie?! I, however, was happy
about it. It allowed me to reconnect with the only person on the planet who I
actually like, Mariah. I don’t want to spoil the surprise but we came up with
some really awesome new ways to kill Katie. Also, she nearly made Katie cry
with one perfectly executed look of derision.
Mariah was most likely smirking after causing Katie to cry AGAIN
I wish I could say I was as happy about seeing Emry but she
insists on pretending to like Katie and, I’m sorry, but I refuse to be friends
with someone like that. Not to mention, she made me prance all over the table
like I was a show cat. I mean, I know I’m good looking but it just made me feel
like a piece of meat at an auction. It’s going to take some pretty extensive
psychotherapy to get over that humiliation.
Look at how humiliating this is for me!
We were also in Pierre so Katie could vote in the election. It’s
funny because in the days leading up to the election she took to facebook and
twitter in bathed in self-importance and told people to go out and vote because
of their “shared” future. What a joke. Anyone who knows Katie at all knows that
she is a miserable, selfish, egotistical piece of steaming feces who could care
less about anyone but herself. When Obama (the nazi, socialist, communist) was
re-elected, Katie was happy about it. Not a surprise. Since she’s living off
her parents now, it’s only a matter of time before she is sucking on the teat
of government.
As for me? I could care less about the election. After all,
I am a cat. Anyway, until next week, I’m Ivan Denisovich. God bless.
