Oops /

I don't think there is actually a screening of A Dog's Breakfast this weekend (unless David told you there was). I think I may have made that up. Sometimes I get confused. I blame martinis.

Here is the loop:

0

Here is me:

k

(Notice that I'm outside of the loop.)

K!

I'm Officially a Twit /

Ohhhh dear. I have just discovered Twitter. It's perfect: low commitment, low stress, high fun, an absolute time-waster. JUST what my new Vancouver life needed. How ever will I fit it into my busy schedule?
Hmmmm. Let's have a look:

8a.m. Think about waking up. Listen to alarm for thirty guilt-ridden seconds before turning it off and going back to sleep.
10a.m. Wake up again because cats are angry and have started knocking things made of glass off random counter tops.
10:30a.m. Go for "long" walk, get distracted by coffee shop, drink coffee, cut walk short.
11a.m.-8:30p.m. Procrastinate, eat, check email every thirty seven seconds to see if anything exciting has happened. It hasn't. Reload page several times to make sure I'm not missing anything. I'm not.
8:30p.m. Wonder why Canadian Idol can't be on EVERY night.
8:31p.m. Feel guilty about watching reality television -- or thinking about watching reality television -- when it represents the downfall of my profession.
8:32pm Eat unnecessary snack involving salt.
9p.m. Think about writing, decide against it, surf the internet, e-stalk people, check email, drink water (because of the salt -- it's a vicious cycle), eventually go to bed.

How EVER will I find the time for Twitter?

The way I discovered it is a bit embarrassing: I was googling MY OWN BROTHER to find out about A Dog's Breakfast this weekend at Comicon. (ComiCon? Where do the capitals go?) and I found his Twitter page. I'm not totally sure what it is, but I've joined. Whenever I see a little box that says "Join" next to it, I just have to. (It's like when someone offers you a drink you've never heard of: just blindly accept. Would I like a "bellini"? Yes please. A "mojito"? Why the heck not.) I would give my right arm (that's not true) to go to ComiCon/comicon/CoMiCoN for the screening, especially since VERONICA FRICKIN' MARS is going to be there. I don't think it's going to happen, but I'm working on it...

...which leads me to my next topic for all you Stargoids (I've run out of names for you. That one sounds a bit like a disease.) Here is my question: I would love to go to some conventions over the summer/fall, but I don't know how to go about doing that. I didn't write that in the form of a question. Damn it. I'll try again: How do I shamelessly get myself invited to another convention? (Or is it like birthday parties in gr. 6, where there's just no hope unless I stop carrying all my belongings in Biway bags and listening to Heart.) I LOVE to travel. I LOVE to meet new people. I had a total blast in London (and in Burbank, even though I was only a pseudo-guest.) And I finally have a roommate who can catsit for me. (Martha likes him better than me. It's because he pretends to punch her. Who knew that cartoon punching noises would win her little furry heart?)

So that's it. I guess I'll go to bed now (or check my email or update my twitter page or eat salt straight from the shaker.)

'Night!

K.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you: KRAMP
(but hopefully not cramps)/

Well, I haven't posted since the end of May...and here we are on July the 13th. Friiiiiiiiiday the thiiiiiiirteeeeeenth. Oooooooooh. Woooooooo. Wheeeeeeee. Waaaaaaaaa.

Wow.

Sorry.

I have so much news that it has stopped me from blogging. It's kind of similar to my telephonophobia. (I just made up that word.) You know when you don't talk to someone for six months and then they call you and you see their name on your phone and you panic and you don't answer it because if you do answer it you'll have to talk for six full hours in order to share all the information you've missed out on, and even though you really really like them and maybe even think they're a little bit awesome and possibly even hot, you still don't answer it because six hours is a big commitment, especially considering the fact that you're afraid of commitment and can't even stay in one city for longer than four years? THAT'S how I feel. Know what I mean? Guys? Hello? Maybe I should go back to making random noises.

Gaaaaaa. Bleeeeeee. Wazawaaaaaappppaaaa. Friiiiiiiday the thiiiiiiirteeeeeenth. Spooooookyyyyyyy.

So here's a summary of what's been happening, so I can avoid writing the longest post of all time:

-I did another episode of Stargate, with more action (like action action, not like hot sex action) than the first one and with a fantastic cast that could, possibly, potentially include someone who was on DESPERATE FRICKIN' HOUSEWIVES, my third favorite show ever (after Battlestar Galactica and Veronica Mars, or Veronica Mars and Battlestar Galactica, depending on when you ask me and on how much I've had to drink.)
-I moved to glorious Vancouver! I'm here! I live here now (sort of. Until October at least.) I am so committed to being here that I bought a bathing suit to wear on the beach. Now THAT'S commitment. The bathing suit is about as revealing as a baggy wet suit, but it makes me happy.
-I found out that Humans Anonymous is definitely going to be produced in New York in November, so start making travel plans now if you want to see it! I'm giving you hyper-advanced notice. It looks like I will be acting in it too, unless I am just too poor to hack living in New York as a penniless actor for six weeks.
-I developed an impressive addiction to dirty martinis, which I believe are martinis with extra olive brine in them, but which my friend claims are martinis with a dash of whiskey in them. Thoughts? Opinions? (I know I'm right, but I always like to have proof.)
-I have a new living situation, which I will call KRAMP. That's almost as good as PHARK, I'd say. My new roommate (P) and I are having a blast living in Kitsilano. It is beautiful and beachy and mountain-y and for some reason there are Smartcars and tiny dogs everywhere. The cats are in heaven. (Not dead -- just really happy here.) Rufus has definitely lost a little weight and Martha has escaped twice into the outside world (and then shot right back in because she is afraid of birds. And plants, it would seem.)

Okay. That's all I can think of for now.

KRAMPily,

Kate