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thought i was a donut, ya tried to glaze me


another year in the bag...

This being my third Birthday post, you'd think I'd be all preached out. I remember feeling this strong emotional swell as I wrote my 2005 post. Turning 20 seemed to be the right age for me to get all nostalgic and weepy eyed about growing up and older and seemingly wiser, with "seemingly" being the right word for it. Truth is, I wasn't all that sure of how things worked then, and I don't know that much more now, and although I've gotten a lot more emotional this past year (for what reason, I don't know), I'm just not feeling it now, today, on my 22nd birthday. Maybe it's the weather. It just didn't "feel" like the fall, so how was I supposed to prepare for my big day? Maybe it's my current situation, of being and old broad living at home, running out of funds. Maybe it's the presents. I'm an adult now, and when I want something that I can just go and buy it. When I was younger all the stuff I wanted had to go on My Birthday List, and I'd have to wait in anticipation to see if I'd get them. Or maybe it's just actual proof of another year older, another year...well, not wiser, but with an even colder, blackened heart.

I guess I'm not giving myself enough credit. Twenty-one was actually a remarkable year, all legal-drinking excitement aside. I started it off with wings and Bud Lights (I wanted to end it the same way, but nobody wanted to go with me to the Irish Circle), and I somehow managed to do a few classier things as the year moved on. Anyone out there ever get to live out their dream? To go someplace every day that you hoped and prayed but thought you'd never get to? In my 21st year I did. That's a huge fucking deal that now has become the catalyst for a lot of other things, the journey moving on, continuing, and for that I'm thankful. I'm thankful for the relationships I've maintained throughout my life (some that began before I was even born) and the relationships I've strengthened and developed in these past 12 months. Finding people that get it--that get you--is hard, and I have such a strong group of people like that in my life that I can fool myself into thinking that it's easy.

And maybe that's what birthdays are really for. Not the presents and the parties, but the chance to look back on the year you're blowing out on your cake and reflect on everything you've done and the people you've shared it with. The Big 2-1 was a good year. I can only hope that the Even Bigger 2-2 lives up to it.


&the streets are paved with cheese

The other night I came home late from trivia. I had a hard time opening my front door because it was dark, and I had to pee really bad, so when I finally got it open I just threw my keys down and ran right up the stairs, not even bothering to turn the light on. Once I reached the top I flicked the light on, and once I did I saw a mouse run past me from the direction of my third floor door into the direction of my bedroom (and, also, the bathroom).

You read right-- a mouse. Now for those of you who have been over here, you can attest that it is not a dirty household. Us Honans are not dirty people (necessarily), and although we may have a lot of stuff cluttered around, I don't think an accumulation of magazines can result in mice. So once I saw that mouse, scurrying about in my sacred place, I didn't know what to do. The door right in front of me was my parents, so I opened it and just freaked the fuck out.


I leapt on to my parents' cedar chest, at the foot of their bed, where I knelt down into the position of a crazy person and started to rock.

My parents (well, my mom, who has a faster sleepy-time response than my dad) jumped up, asking me, "wha? wha? what happened?"


"Do you really have to curse?"


My reaction was the same reaction I've seen every character on tv have whenever they see a mouse--a ridiculous overreaction to the seeing of a creature that is maybe a 100th of the human size. There was the same jumping and screaming and odd noises that can only be compared to as 'eeks.' [note: Did they ever see a mouse on Mad About You? I feel like I saw that on there once. God, that show was awful.]

Not wanting to move from my spot on the chest, I demanded that my dad go find it and kill it, because it is the man's job [note to my future husband: I'm keeping my name, I'm keeping my job when we have kids, I'm keeping a separate bank account, but if I ever see a mouse or roach or spider I am coming to you in tears and you will take care of it, no questions asked. Thank you in advance]. My dad, still groggy, just got out of his bed, walked into my room (which I was now imagining to be like the mouse ghetto in An American Tail) and went to sleep in my bed. I still don't know why. I kept yelling, "find the mouse! get rid of it! eeek, ehhh, ekkk, ahhh, mouse!" while my mom urged me to relax.

"It's probably just a field mouse..."


"Can you please calm down, it's the middle of the night!"


We both thought it might be a good idea to fill my sleeping sister in on our new guest, since her bedroom is right next to mine. I was still perched on the cedar chest, alternating between thoughts of crying and thoughts of peeing myself, and I made my mom go in and get her up. Once she found out, she didn't want to sleep back there either, and walked into my parents room. My mom followed, and finally convinced me to use the bathroom.

"No, no, I can't go back there," I said, but it was getting bad now, the whole holding it in, and I made my mom go with me and stand guard by the door as I quickly did what I had to do and ran out.

"Maybe we'll all stay here tonight, " my mom said, referring to her bedroom. My sister eyed the bed and suggested someone sleep on the floor; I reacted to that by saying, "I JUST SAW A FUCKING MOUSE ON THAT FLOOR" and hopped into the bed. And there we were--two college-educated adult women climbing into bed with their mommy. Stella, who as mixed-breed foxhound should have really picked up on the vermon, was fast asleep in her own giant bed, complete with blankets and pillows. She must have given up on any kind of watchdog role the minute my family bought her a christmas stocking and hung it up on the wall. That dog's more human than anything else, and I'm sure if she had the ability to talk she'd also tell my dad to go take care of it.

And I tried to sleep. I really did. Nestled between my fully-grown mom and sis, I tried to get my fully-grown self to sleep, but I couldnt' get comfortable and I kept thinking of the mouse. Also, my mom snores real bad. I tossed and turned, much to the dismay of my bunkmates. I sighed. I poked my mom. Two hours later I said "enough!!", and walked down to the living room where I tried to sleep on the couch. No luck--I kept thinking of the mouse, and of where it might have come from, and of how long it's probably been in my house, eating food off the floor, maybe even picking up some cooking tips from our cookbooks like that adorable little rat in Rattatouille. When Stella got up for her 5am trip out back I was in that sleepy-crazy mode, where I'm overly emotional and whiney. I walked back upstairs to where my dad was sleeping and, nearly sobbing, kicked him out of my bed. I watched the sun come up from my bedroom window, still thinking of that long gray tale.

I am still the only one who saw the mouse; my dad put up traps first thing in the morning, but we've yet to make any catches. My mom said the next day that it's "weird" we'd have a mouse since "I don't see any droppings, and they'd have to have droppings", implying that I imagined seeing it, or made it up, for whatever sick reason. My sister even started making jokes, saying that the mouse has been lurking in our bedrooms, watching us, maybe seeing me as I got dressed (poor mouse). She described it watching my DVRed shows, using my computer to check it's mousespace, reading my books, even joking that he had my glasses on when I couldnt find them the next day. All funny for people who didn't see the thing that might one day crawl all over their face as they sleep. They didnt' see it, so they can't be out to get it the same way I am. They can have fun with it being just a punchline.

And here's the weird part--I used to love mice. I mean cartoon mice, of course, but now I hate them, and although I see rats every time I'm on the subway there's something very uncool about it being in your house. So if my sister's right, and the mouse is all techy, I hope it's reading this right now so it knows that I finally know the difference between cartoon mice and real mice. You're not Fievel, you motherfucker, and I will find you.


flipping it back to you, loyal reader

A few monthsago I was extremely flattered to find my dear friend & loyal reader Catherine Grady had devoted a myspace blog post to me, entitled "the quotable katie honan." For those of you who aren't her friend on myspace, here's a sampling of what I said :

guys love whores
it's like fast food

you say you hate it & it's gross & bad for you
but you gonna turn down a big mac if someone offers it?

it's true
a lot of willpower goes into turning down chicken nuggets

Later on this made it into it's own blog:

"everyone's so in love with the idea of love that well forsake everything else"

"i cant believe i was ever so callously critical of stupid girls
we're all stupid"

(CG's the brunette with the nice hair, I'm in the Genesis shirt)

I'm so fucking deep!

But that's not why I'm posting this. Catherine & I have been spending a lot of time together lately, mainly in my car, which is my favorite place to talk. And the other night she said so many deep things I thought I'd post them here, in my own (paraphrased) version of "the quotable catherine grady":

on questions (and, i suppose, the truth)-

it's not that people aren't thinking of the questions to ask, they're just scared of the answers.

CG also directed me back to her myspace to find the following quote from Tom Robbins:

"I believe you have to reach a certain age before you understand how much life really is like a novel, with patterns and leitmotifs and turning points, and guns that must go off and people who must return before the ending."

That's a nice thought; the idea that, just like we've all been saying, our lives can be like books or TV shows. That people will leave unexpectedly or say things that catch your breath, and you will always hope and believe in the back of your minds and the bottom of your hearts that favorite characters just might come back before it's all over. Like some dude once said, "isn't it pretty to think so?"

just like a rooster

I couldn't sleep last night due to a lot of different reasons, but I finally fell in deep around 6:30. Since I don't really have a job or anything getting to sleep at this time is fine, because I can technically sleep all day if I really wanted to. At around 9:15 this morning I unfortunately awoke from what was an amazing dream to voices coming in through my open window (thank you, 60 degree heat in November). These voices were, at first, low, and I couldn't make out what they were saying. Words were coming in here and there, and as I became fully awake, I realized what I was hearing--the gossiping of my neighbors from AROUND THE CORNER that is STILL GOING ON as I type this from my bed.

"Yea, so he texted me and I texted him back and.."

"He's a great guy, went to catholic school and all that..."

"No, no, you should call him, you should totally call him..."

The worst part about it is it's only coming in waves, and I can't full make out what they're saying (or who, exactly, is saying it) and I'm too tired to get up and find out.


the funny doesn't stop

go here and support the striking writers.


the HOG list is back!

The history of the HOG (Hot Old Guy) list is long as the men on this list are handsome, but I decided to bring it back on my blog mainly because people still ask me if I keep a list of them. It'll take a while for me to compile a whole list, but in the meantime, please nominate hunks in the comment box.

Qualifications are kind of dicey; clearly, they have to be old, but as we've all gotten older the age cap has, too. Here's something you can use--would it be socially unacceptable for you to date this HOG? Is this person more than double your age?


Get to creepin'! Get to nominatin'!


rilo kiley-salute your shorts

when we broke down
in that small mining town
i was ready for quitting
my guard was down
it was summer all day
in your dad's chevrolet
and so we decided to stay

and we want spectacular views
if we're to stay for the weekend
and you swear
there'll be no bad news
if we stay, if we stay without looking back

we'll take a small private room
with a window please
if it opens that's fine
to let in the breeze
we've been waiting all year
for someone to just say
everyone fucks up it's going to be ok

and the prop planes
they fly overhead
you can hear them returning
and maybe it's all in my head
but i'll save my complaints for tomorrow

and when you got sick i was sad for some days
but i'm feeling much better
i just sleep it away
now it's just like
we never was
some things go bad just because

and the freeways
they go coast to coast
they've taken away all my good friends
and i don't care if you're broke
you can't stay here tomorrow

and the dreams have come back again
but this time i'm not just watching them
its me as pilot instead
and i land the plane all by myself
no you can't stay here tomorrow


you can rsvp here...

jeff buckley is crying

He was just watching this week's Ugly Betty & heard his Leonard Cohen cover being used, again, at the end of some unnecessary montage.



where ya been?

Last time I blogged it was mid-October, and now it's the beginning of my birthday month. So where have I been? Nowhere, actually, which is why I haven't blogged. Nothing to talk about. But today I pimped my blog a little, added my new flickr photo account badge where you can watch a steady stream of photos of me look dumb. I added the photo up top that I took on the Ft. Tilden fireworks boat cruise back in the summer. Jamaica Bay at it's finest.

I'll be back soon.

I wonder if my writing has even improved?