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July 30, 2015

Pleased to Meet Me!

Oh, me
I bought a cheap mandolin.  

She needed a name, and I thought, "Who should I name her after?  Who is someone I will always like?"
        

July 21, 2015

Gold Star Lunch

Wow.  Even I am impressed by today's lunch selection.

I just absentmindedly grabbed stuff, and it was when I made a sandwich by folding the warm confetti Eggo over the ice cream, which I had scooped with the dirty spoon next to it on the counter, that I realized the possible reason why I am thirty-five and have never been married.   


This is what happens to children whose mothers lie to them and tell them that fruit is a dessert.

July 18, 2015

Kutt Funny

A company bought the domain "katfunny" and redirected it to their website.  I would literally rather change my name than buy it back from them.  So I did.
Eventually, I just settled on adding an extra "t" to "Katt".  Here were a bunch of other options though:

1.)  Now this one is sweet:  
Kàt Funny
Their land is cold, but their hearts are warm.  
2.  Ooo!  Now it's getting interesting...
Kät Funny
Technically not untrue...
3.)  ...and a little kinky:
Köt Funny
It's like Google Translate is a window into my soul.  
4.)  Yep, that sounds about right. 
Kåt Funny
Get the lutefisk- grandma's got the vapours!
 5.)  Although this one is more grammatically accurate:  
Kåta Funny
And I'm not even in a bikini!
6.)  Things make different sounds when they fall in a country of area rugs:  
Küt Funny
Things that go "plump" in the night.
7.)  And, obviously:  
 Kut Funny
"You're goddamn right."

July 16, 2015

Katt Serious: A Brief History of My Junkie Butt

(*My Twitter is @kattfunny if you're interested.)

WARNING!  This post isn't funny and contains sad topics. 
CAUTION!  This is what a drug addict looks like!   
Since there is a freshman crowd of readers coming in, let me give you a little background on your darling Katt Funny:

My real name is Kathleen Adams.  I was raised in the West Hills of Portland, Oregon, an area which is referenced in the Everclear song "I Will Buy You a New Life".  
Jesuit High School
Class of '98

I went to a Catholic, college prep school, then did most of my university in Germany, where I studied a bunch of languages. Currently, I have learned (to a degree of proficiency) French, German, Danish, and Norwegian.  

Sophomore year of college. 1999.
I once had to waste five minutes convincing a Swede that I'm not Swedish.  I don't even speak Swedish.
My intention was to transfer to the University of Copenhagen for senior year, but I was late turning in the paperwork due to my drinking problem and increasing bouts of depression.  


Junior year of college.  2000.
I smoked so much that one of the German class' grammar questions was
"Kat raucht gerne weil, _____."
(translation:  Kat likes to smoke because _______.) 
I quit school and moved back to the states to be with my American boyfriend, Andrew Barna. 

Andrew John Barna
03/29/79 - 01/09/05
We moved in together, and despite having had boyfriends throughout the years, Andy is the only genuine partner I've ever had.  He died ten years ago in an accident (fell and hit his head).  

In order to tolerate the pain, I spent the following years mainlining heroin and cocaine until I was the lowest scum of society- a smelly, fat junkie who wound up in the homeless person detox.
Me smacked out at 23.  I got fat on heroin  I never lost my appetite, and it shut down my metabolism.  
I've been sober since January 3rd, 2007.  



January 3rd, 2010 on my third sobriety anniversary.
Unlike other posts where I sometimes take liberties with reality, this post is all cold truth.    


I cleaned up, wrote about my life, and to my shock, people wanted to read about it.  They told me that I was talented, and best of all, that I had helped them understand addiction.

I had assumed the only career paths suitable for me were motherhood or monasticism due to my unique, lifelong affinity for mankind and God.  I'm wrong though because I have served both best simply by being me writing about me.  


A writer.
Note the blazer. 
     


"The Face of Heroin"
Sigh...brutal (shaking head), just brutal.  
To be completely candid- I am embarrassed by my past.  I'm afraid people will think I'm "dirty". 

That isn't a reason not to talk about it though.  I have to because the others don't get to.  Where I wound up, almost no one survives, and those who do don't look like me.  I was able to get out at twenty-six, right before I wound up dead at twenty-seven or on a "Faces of Meth" poster at thirty. 

That's all for now.  I love you.  Bye bye.   

Take that heroin!
(...and cocaine, alcohol, cigarettes, tanning beds...) 

Cherry Bomb

Oh no.  I think for dinner, I accidentally gave myself diarrhea.   


"As I type this, my hand is reaching into the bag again."  

July 15, 2015

Aw Chucks...

My favorite store is Chuck's Produce.  

It is some bizarre portal that transforms from a local produce store to my personal meat market once the automatic doors close behind me.  

If I'm in a hurry, I wear the ruby ring my mom gave me for my birthday.  That way I can get out within an hour.  Without the ring, I'm a conversation vortex, disguised as a woman squeezing and sniffing fruit.  
  

Yeah, I know, I'm a sturdy girl. 
Today the produce boy stocking cherries had a stomach ache because he ate a scorpion pepper a half hour prior to my arrival.  I ordered him to go drink some milk, but he didn't want to get in trouble.  In retrospect, he could have used a hug.

In the checkout line, there was young, blond gentleman who looked like he had walked right off the page of a 1960's surfing ad.  As I enthusiastically made room for his items on the conveyer belt, his young Robert Redford handsomeness distracted me, and my basket went flying off the end- which I caught in mid-air.  It was the single greatest moment of my life.  

I told him that I was a ninja, which opened the door to conversation and unskilled flirting.  It was awkward and wonderful, and I think I love him.

When I left, I was hoping to see him in the parking lot.  That way I could show off what a cool car I have...and according to stereotypes, my really small penis too.  

Behind me is Alvin, my little red Miata.  Me?  Just call me Hedwig....(not pictured: the angry inch). 

So, on those glum days when my life soundtrack is playing "The Old Gray Mare, She Ain't What She Used to Be", I head on over to Chuck's and buy some reasonably priced local produce.  Over there, I'm still a hot tomato.  (Ha cha cha!)  






Breakdown

Monday

(Katt has a meltdown to her friends.)

Katt:  Tell me I'm not old! 

Friends:  You're not old! 

Katt:  (Scowls)  Stop blowing sunshine up my ass.


Tuesday

(Katt has another meltdown, sits against her front door throwing shoes from the pile next to her, texting friends.)

Katt:  (via text)  Tell me I'm not old!  I can work out more, burn off more layers of skin, but I can't change my birthdate.  It's too late to start fresh.  What if I lose my sex appeal?  

Friends: (via text)  You're not old!  


Wednesday

Twentysomething Men on Tinder:  You're gorgeous!..What?...Um no, you're not old.  


Also Wednesday

(Katt at the doctor's office.)

Doctor: (points to x-rays)  You have early onset arthritis in both knees.  

Katt:  Goddammit.


(The End.) 

Epilogue

 Katt:  Told you so. 

I would like to thank Amazon for keeping me company while I waited in the exam room alone for what felt like an eternity.  They kept me there so long, I bought a mandolin online.  I have no idea how to play the mandolin. 



I also don't know how to play the Uke.  Guess what?  I don't really need glasses.  Katt Funny is my real name though.  Yep...born in 1982 in Kattmandoodie.  







Product of the 80's

1.) President Carter was still in office when I was born.  

2.) History has proven (I'm going to go ahead and say "scientifically") that the eighties were the greatest time to be a kid.  

3.) My favorite Garbage Pail Kids card was the one with the conjoined twins. 

4.) I thought my Thriller viewfinder showed actual footage of Michael Jackson transforming into a monster.  

5.) I sucked my thumb until I was ten.  

6.) My mom told me that if I wore my headgear to school, the kids would think I was rich because they're so expensive.  

7.). I'm still afraid of the dark, which is why there are LED Christmas lights strung all around my apartment.  This fact is possibly unrelated.  Possibly.   



I tickle myself pink.

Minor Problems

I'm back on Tinder- but this time I'm doing it right.  By that, I mean having my dates sign media release forms.  I just printed out some to keep in my glove compartment.  Yes, I made sure to include a section for their guardian's signature.  

The older I get, the more I look like incriminating evidence on Gary Glitter's computer.

July 14, 2015

Annee Funnee

Welcome to Katt Funny's new Creative Director Annee Dennee!  

It turns out, her baby daughter is a savant who already potty trained herself and is currently doing field research in Zimbabwe for her doctorate in anthropology.  Annee and her newly acquiesced supply of Crayola merchandise are a valuable addition to our litter.  


As you can see, she already speaks Xhosa.

July 13, 2015

Mr. & Ms. Funny

                           Andrew John Barna 
                                    03/29/1979  to 01/09/2005

                                  My sweetheart.  Memory Eternal.  

A tribute to the hottest moments between Andy and Katt:


Dressed up as Sid and Nancy...unintentionally.


1.)  The Stalkings
(Katt is getting ready for work.  Andy smacks her bottom.)

Andy:  Baby!...(Andy rubs Katt's shoulders and whispers in her ear.)  Are you wearing control top?
The donkey is a cigarette holder.  Pull the ears, and smokes come out of its butt.


2.)  The Handcuffs
(Andy and Katt are dressed as Sid and Nancy for Halloween.)

Andy:  Look baby!  I stole some handcuffs so that we can be handcuffed together all night.

(Andy is a prisoner while he's bitched out all night for stealing handcuffs.)
"Costume?"

3.)  The Cup 

(Andy sneaks his 20 year old, new girlfriend Katt into his bedroom at his parents' house.  They drink beer.  To avoid the dog barking and waking up the family, Andy pees out the window and Katt has to pee in a Big Gulp cup.)  

Andy:  Let's play a game.  We'll write romantic things to do on pieces of paper and then take turns picking them out of hats.  

Katt:  Okay.

(They write stuff down.  Katt picks first out of Andy's hat.)

Katt:  (She reads out loud) "Kiss for one whole minute."  Okay.  

(After complying, it's Andy's turn to pick out of Katt's hat.)

Andy:  (He reads out loud) "Take a sip from the pee cup."  Katt!  No!  I'm picking again....(Andy picks another and reads out loud)  "Take a sip from the pee cup."  

4.)  The Baby Talk  

Katt and Andy:  (Speaking in a made up baby language)
  
Everyone:  That's so fucking annoying!  

5.) The Regularly Occurring God-Knows-What

(Katt's heels click on the beautiful hardwood floors in their house.  She turns the corner into the living room.)

Katt:  Hey baby?- ANDY!  There are people here!  ANDY!!!  Goddamnit Andy!!! 

6.)  The Bitching in the Kitchen 

(Katt is trying to cook something.  Andy, who is a foot taller, looks over her head at what she's doing.)

Andy:  Baby, you should....

Katt:  Please, just let me...

Andy:  You should...no, you should...instead you should...

Katt:  AHHHH!!!! 

(Andy, seeing Katt is about to scream at him, picks her up, swings her around, then starts kissing her passionately on the mouth while she tries to yell at him.) 
As soon as I heard Andy pull up in the driveway after work, I would run outside barefoot and jump up and down cheering.

7.)  The Dog  

Andy:  Let's see who the dog thinks is the dominant one in the house.  Who do you think he will protect?

Katt:  I have no idea.  Let's go!

(They wrestles on the ground.  Otis the dog comes up and starts humping Katt's leg.)

Katt:  I don't even outrank the dog?   


"You're doggone right!"

8.)  The Night Moves

(Andy and Katt are watching Late Night with Conan O'Brien in bed.  Suddenly, Andy grabs Katt and flips her over him to the other side of the bed.)

Katt:  What the hell was that?

Andy:  I'm trying to spice things up in the bedroom.  


Andy used to love taking pictures of me and the dog snuggling.

9.  The Scent

(It's the middle of the night and Katt is spooning Andy.  Andy feels something tickle the back of his neck.  Katt is sniffing his head like a bloodhound.)

Andy:  Baby?  What are you doing?

Katt:  In case something ever happens to you, I want to remember everything about sleeping next to you.  

Andy:  I love you.  








July 12, 2015

Katt Funny Taglines

I'm thinking of making shirts...

1). "I tickle myself pink."

2). "I'm a hoot!"

3). "Katt: (n.) a woman too old to be a sex kitten and too poor to be a cougar. "

4). "Oh, me."
Cougar Incognito


July 11, 2015

The Worst Has Finally Happened

I missed Free Slurpee Day at 7-Eleven.  I ran in at 8pm, and the clerk said that it was already over.  Then I walked into not one, but two spider webs.  Then I realized that I forgot to put on underwear when I left the house. 
The only flavor they had left was sour grape.

The second worst course of events to ever happen to anyone ever, of all time in history, was when I stepped on a slug with my bare foot, put that bare foot in a boot which had a slug hiding in it, then went upstairs and took a bite of an apple and bit into a worm.  Then I died inside.  Then I came back to life.  

July 10, 2015

Ferashback

Here's an oldie, but goodie...


My building manager is from Cambodia.  

When I correct his pronunciation, he corrects mine.  I'm serious.

Sore and Tinder

I scoured through hundreds of men on Tinder and hand selected a few for dates.  Despite many of their profiles saying otherwise, all of them made it very clear that they weren't interested in a relationship... which was completely unnecessary, especially for the ones who told me this in my living room.  Here is the view from my futon:


The icon with Christ dead, being lowered into the tomb, is called "Extreme Humility". 


The rest of my place is covered in books about Holy Tradition.  They don't understand that I can't date just any pagan weirdo.  



There's an assumption that I want a relationship, which isn't exactly wrong, but somehow I don't get to vote on the partner.  



So thank you, all of you, for the very kind but completely unnecessary "I'm not looking for..." speeches.  








Tinder-ella

As a Mother's Day present, I put a profile up for a month on Tinder.  For those of you new to the thirty-five year old boundary war between me and my mother (hi mom!  I love you!), here is an excerpt from my very first post on this site from six years ago, titled "Ten Minutes of Conversation with Mom on the Patio While Trying to Write".
*
Me:  Why do you assume I'll never find love?

Mom:  I think you should-that's the point!  I think a guy should love you and see how wonderful you are!  Get the damn dog off me.
*
That was back when I was just a naive, twenty-nine year old kid.  I had my whole life ahead of me.  
Me at 29.  Just a whippersnapper, full of dreams.  
Now I'm a washed up thirty-five year old hag with dusty ovaries and saggy boobies.  Sometimes if I shake my head really fast, I can see jowls.  

Me currently.  Yuck!  Ridden hard and put away wet.   

I cannot stress enough how much I hate dating.  The last date I went on was in 2008, and I didn't even know it was a date until he started feeding me sushi.  My modus operandi is to either jump into shitty relationships or jump into great friendships.  People like me, who got sucker punched by grief at a young age, know already that we will wish for more time with others, therefore we don't waste it.  

Apparently that behavior is creepy on dates.  There is a superficial protocol of what I'm allowed to discuss.  Blink...blink...


Andy and Kat at the beach.  I got pissed off because it was January, and he went swimming in the ocean.  I thought he was going to get hypothermia and die.  He died four Januaries later...by slipping off an icy roof.  Apparently, this is not a first date anecdote.  


Granted, I'm not famous, but that memoir I wrote years ago became shockingly popular- I was even recognized out of state (that was, by far, the raddest time in my life).  So, the table next to us could know things my date isn't allowed to know yet. 

I interpreted this as the rules not applying to me, and subsequently made up my own.  I turned the experience into a side project, kept records, dated college kids, and trampled all over others' feelings in the process.

Hiding behind my "craft" is a lie.  I know myself.  I pulled this shit because it was a tactical move against rejection.  Like, a scientist doesn't get butt hurt when the rat bites him.

I've since scrapped the project, and I owe a massive apology.  Especially to one person in particular.  


July 6, 2015

The Playmate of Humphrey

My mom just moved from the West Hills home she owned for over thirty years.  It's on Humphrey, in the Bridlemile school district.  Now, it's filled with kids, but back in the 80's, it was the Ribbon Candy District, and grandchildren visiting for the summer were stuck with me as their only playmate option. 

For a few years, there was a cute, good-natured redhead my age who lived down the street.  She was great with crafts, especially puff paints.  Eventually she and her puff paints moved closer to Bridlemile, and the ego-centric part of me wonders if it was so that she had more options in playmates.  

Her house was very modern and clean, with blue poles and grey knotted rugs.  Ours had beautiful pine floors that were usually dirty.  It's not that we were lazy- quite the opposite.  We were in school and played sports, and my older sister and parents were in school and working.  Sacrifices had to be made, like clean floors, and remembering to pick me up from soccer practice.  

Here's a list of the people who grew up in the Adams' House: 

Me:  35yrs  (neglected middle child)
Chris: +14yrs (technically 1/2 sister)
Scott: +2.5yrs
Carolyn: -6yrs
Mom:  +30yrs
Dad:  +34yrs  (deceased)

It feels violating that other people will be living in the house I grew up in.   


Which one am I?  I'm the one asking the security guard at the mall to page "Linda Adams".  

Drunk and Trigger Happy. Now I'm Coming for You.

During my mom's recent move from my childhood home, I got back my giant box of photos being stored in my old closet.  I was the only kid who had the same room the entire time.  I don't know why- they probably just forgot about me, subsequently forgetting the room existed.  More than once did they leave me at the grocery store on family vacations, all five of them oblivious for ten miles that I wasn't in the car.  

(Subsequently) half the photos are of me drinking.  Half of those photos are of me drunk in inappropriate places.  The rest are a hodge-podge of people whose named I have long forgotten, but I recognize as my Facebook friends.  Some are embarrassing attempts at artistic photography.  Some, the One Hour Photo people really shouldn't have developed- legally or morally. 

I'm going on a quest to find the people in the photos and send them a scanned copy.  Don't worry, I'm not going to tag terrible pictures of you and post them on your page- I hate it when people do that.  I'll contact you privately.  

So, heads up if you went to any of my schools, socialized with me drinking, or are a white bird in a gravel pit representing hope.


"Yes, one ticket to Zoo Lights, please."

Obviously I was making a statement about how peace is purposely blocked for monetary gain.  

July 4, 2015

O' Tenenbaum

A memoirist is basically selling themselves- like prostitutes, only less exercise...possibly worse listening skills.  In becoming the product, I'm developing a trademark style, not only in my writing, but in other parts of my life.  

Here's what I have so far:


Favorite 

  1. Color:  Red 
  2. Book:  To Kill a Mockingbird
  3. Poet:  Langston Hughes
  4. Actor:  Erik Nicolaisen
  5. Song:  "Blackbird" (The Beatles)
  6. Guitarist:  Mark Knopfler
  7. Food:  Pizza
  8. Flavor:  Strawberry
  9. Spice:  Dill
  10. Animal:  Otter
  11. Flower:  Red Poppy
  12. Gemstone:  Red Diamond
  13. Movie Character :  Margot Tenebaum

Summer of '99 in Germany; I was the original Margot Tenenbaum

  • I wear bangs because I think they make me look younger.
  •  I have shitty nails.  The constant typing keeps my nails filed down and polish chipped.
  • On Christmas Eve around midnight, I put on "It's a Wonderful Life" alone and see how long it takes until I'm bawling.  Sometimes I dress up as an elf.  That's a new thing.
  • I takes baths instead of showers.
  • I've been wearing dark red lipstick since 1992. 
  • I'm an Aquarius-Pisces cusp sun and Pisces moon.  It's the only universally compatible sign.  


My birthday present to Jesus is the awareness that I'm a big, whiny baby.   





  

July 3, 2015

Slow and Steady...

I've been trying to rewrite the memoir for a few years now.  Before I knew that people would be interested in my writing, it was easy to post a chapter per day.  Now every word is met with hesitation, embarrassment, vulnerability, and self-consciousness.  I spent thirty years unaware that I did anything well, and I still haven't adjusted to the information.

I suppose it's not that I didn't do anything WELL, per se, rather I wasn't extraordinary.  Do all of us long to be extraordinary?  Do we all have a need to be special?  To either have a special talent or feel special to a person?  

What snaps my little turtle head back into its shell aren't necessarily the criticisms in life; people are usually very kind and supportive- of which I am overwhelmingly grateful.  It's the confusion that frightens me.  Life is full of mixed messages that I can't navigate.  A few times, women have said that they admire the personal strength I show in my writing, then unfriended me on Facebook when I set boundaries.  As far as mixed messages by men... I've learned that I can get the stalkers to leave me alone by simply dating them.  

My goal is to finish the memoir while I still look like a soft-core librarian in my teal jacket so that if it does well, that can be my "look" on talk shows. 


Mmm...that's a thick book you've got there, baby. 


The Cooler

Things I never had much luck at:

1.)  School elections.  I'm terrified of public speaking and responsibility.  However, I really, really like making funny posters. 

2.)  School plays.  By senior year, I stopped caring and auditioned with the Hansen medley that was constantly playing in my head because my little sister was obsessed and running their CD nonstop in her room next door.

3.)  At 28, a cake eating contest.  The frosting tickles my throat.

4.)  At 9, a pizza eating contest.  I lost to a girl twenty pounds lighter.

5.)  Anything that required me to be a team player.

6.)  Blackjack.  I can't last more than two minutes at the table.  

7.)  Stocks.  Stocks I pick automatically fail.

8.)  Baby genders.  Whatever I guess, the baby will be the opposite-  100% of the time.  

9.)  Relationships.  My dead ancestors cringe as they watch our lineage die, each time I text, "I love you!" on first dates, while the gentleman is in the bathroom.  

10.)  Rope climb, arm-hang, or chin-ups.  I have small shoulders and wiener upper body strength.  Speaking of which- when I was in the sixth grade, I saw a boy get a boner during the arm hang.  Omg that was funny.   


Look at those loser shoulders, failing every presidential fitness test.  You get a job!