My First Blizzard!

The snow is coming! Hooray! Looks as though I may very well have a "White Christmas" for my return to Boston. Ever since getting chased out of Florida by Hurricane Fay, I fear bad weather follows me wherever I go. So, it's no wonder a blizzard has arrived. I'm just sad we don't get to name them, like the hurricanes.
So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to brave the grocery store last night to gather up some hurricane "supplies". I turned on that "news" that @missscandalous is always telling me to watch, and there was all this talk about what you need in the event of a storm, power outages, etc. So, off to Shaw's I went.
Now, probably a normal, organized person would have brought a list with them, and purchased supplies actually pertinent to a brewing blizzard. I see the following items being necessities to an impending storm: shovels, salt, water, canned goods, plastic utensils, car scrapers, etc. All those things sound really practical and important - but let's face it, they aren't a lot of FUN, are they? And the Casa de Colette and Kat is all about the fun! So, here are the supplies I deemed appropriate for an impending storm:

* A paddle with a string and rubber ball attached to the end
* A new Wii game (I sure do hope we have the Wii on a generator)
* A poinsettia (don't eat it, @kittyrocks!)
* All the fixing for root beer floats (IBC = YUM!)
* Spam, in case @colettebenoir and I feel really adventerous
* Stamps you lick
* A brand new deck of UNO
* Four bottles of wine (this was the first stop. Let's face it - none of you who know me are really surprised)
* A latch-hook kit, in case CB and I want to go back and work on those Girl Scout badges we never finished
* Twinkies, because they last for hundreds of years!
* Bubble Bath
* a new lipstick

So, as you can see, while you may be fed, clothed and warm for your blizzard, you won't be having the Par-tay @colettebenoir and I are putting together! You can DM me for a special invite, and we'll see if maybe you can sled your way over to our comfy pad. Hey - can one of you bring some brownies?

The Wonder of Magic Eight

So, Magic Eight and I have been spending a lot of time together in a past few weeks. I've had a lot of questions of the Universe and it's wry, but charming, sense of humor, so why not turn to the authority on the subject? Below is just a sampling of questions I've asked Magic Eight (and for those of you I'm throwing under the bus with me - hey! thanks!).
Note: A reminder that I'm using the special, High School Musical Magic Eight Ball

Will I ever win the lottery? "Don't Count On It"
Will I make a turkey for Christmas? ""Ask Again Later"
What are the chances that my divorce will be final before I turn 40 (please note: I am currently 33): "Sounds like a winner" (yeah, I noted the irony in this answer, too).
Is @georgebing thinking about donuts right now? "It is certain"
Why does my office always smell like stale cookies? "Call Back Friday @ 3:30"
Will @thediva send me a sexy text this morning? "It's Hard to Believe"
Will I find money in my Magic Pants today? "It's Hard to Believe"
Will @colettebenoir ever beat me in Wii Boxing? "Not Another Word" (uh oh! I better get practicing).
Is @kittyrocks asleep in her food bowl right now? "Stick to the Status Quo"
Do I think about sex more than the average teenage boy? "It is certain"
Does Tom-Tom love me as much as I love it? "Sounds like a winner"
Will @thediva and I manage to record another Broad Cast before the year's end? "It's Hard to Believe"
Is my uvula really that ginormous? "Not another word"
Will I get to go to Iceland this year? "Signs say soarin'"
Will I be spending Christmas day gambling? "Call Back Friday @ 3:30"
Is there a pedicure in my future? "It is decidedly so"

Yes, this is how I base the majority of my life decisions. Does anyone need any answers? Let me know!

Ode to Colette Benoir

Ode to Colette Benoir

I met you in the Second Life, a happy virtual place
Your charming chat and and bubbly self was really just my pace!
You listened to my podcasts, said you were a fan
"Wow, for real"? Diva and I thought. "You sure you're not a man?"

Your love of voice and stripper poles, I knew you were my kind
We traveled round that virtual world and never gave a mind
When hell broke loose in real life land, you offered up a room
"Why yes", I thought, and came to Boston, riding on my broom

Roommates we are, fun times we have, I'm glad the chance we took
It doesn't seem to matter, that neither of us can cook
You opened your heart and life to me, your home and your yard
I even now can overlook your lack of library card

And on your special day, when age 29 repeats
I wish you all the best 'cause you rock and can't be beat!
Here in Twitterland and Blogsville, I just want to say
You had better have one hell of a Kick Ass BIRTHDAY!

Happy Birthday, Colette Benoir!

*mwah* ~ from Kat and Kitty

The Parking Debacle

For someone who drives so little she only has to fill her gas tank every three weeks, I've had quite a parking debacle this month. I see now why people rely solely on public transportation to get to and fro, and I plan on doing the same. Circumstances this past couple of weeks have forced me to drive into work a total of three times. THREE times. That opens us up for any number of debacles, Gentle Readers. Where shall we begin?
The city I work in is notorious for having ZERO parking options. Well, if you don't live there anyway. There are a limited number of public garages, and I am "off" the main drag a tad. So, the first day I need to drive into work, I figure that one of the meters usually available to me across the street from the library will be open. Right? WRONG. Library Ninja doesn't take into account that it's ELECTION DAY. People are parked and voting like mad, so there are no parking meters! My powers of stealth have failed me bad. So, I make my way to Scary Parking Garage, where I snag one of the few remaining spots. This goes well until I go to leave. Guaranteed a discounted rate by a hanging tag I procured from the City in another debacle, I go to leave and am SCOLDED for not having properly filled out all the information. Oh no- parking tag is not good enough for Parking Lady! One must fill out their license plate number, tag number, social security number, names of all your grammar school teachers, and count backwards from 1000 while hoping on one foot before you are allowed out of the garage. There was literal finger pointing - I kid you not.
When my next driving adventure arrives, I am better prepared. I arrive earlier, case out parking spots better, and find the perfectly allocated meter spot. Too good to be true? I parallel park for the first time in 10 years, and after three attempts, I have achieved a MASTER parking job. I am so proud of myself, I comment to a passerby, who thinks I'm nuts or don't get out much. Then, I go to feed the meter, only to realize that even though I have put close to $2.50 in quarters in said meter, it is still only reflecting 30 minutes of time. Oh no? Oh yes. I am in a 30 minute spot. MAXIMUM. I have achieved parking nirvana only to have to MOVE MY CAR back to Scary Parking Garage and get reprimanded, again, by Parking Lady. I walk to work, defeated.
Parking debacle continues to today, where I again try for the metered spot. I find one right across the street from work. It's a front spot, so I only have a car behind me. I ensure that the meter is for more than 30 minutes - check. I feed meter to maximum - check. I note time when I will need to come back and feed meter - check. I am prepared. I am happy. I have won! Until... I go to feed meter. Man who has just parked car walks up to me, curious. "That's my meter" he says. Huh? How can this be? He looks at my car and says, "oh, that's not a spot. I bet you have a ticket by now. See the sign?". Sign? Who the hell reads all these signs? This city is tattooed like a college girl on Spring Break. How can anybody READ all these signs? But there it is - "no parking to corner" with a big, giant arrow. I have, essentially, parked in a non-spot, and paid someone ELSE's meter for four hours. Yes, yes I have. And, to make sure I have the ice on the parking cake, there is a shiny red ticket waiting for me on my windshield. $30. Not counting the $4 in parking I paid for someone else. So, I slip the ticket back underneath my wiper, and amble back to work. Looks as though I've bought this parking spot for the day, huh? Now if only it came with a wash.

The Dating Game

A friend asked me recently how my return to the wonderful world of dating was going. "Amusing", I answered. And really - I can not describe it in any other way. Now, I'll admit that by virtue of my quirky (yet utterly charming) personality, I tend to attract those that are a tad off-kilter. But, if an assessment of my current dating experiences forms a picture, then it would definitely look like one of those Rorschach inkblots in the shape of something phallic. Feels free to criticize, but I am taking a moment to provide my faithful reader's with Kat's List of Dating Do's and Don't.

• Do arrive on time, or somewhat close to on time. If you are going to be late, call, text, twitter, sky write or send a smoke signal. Just let me know.
• Don't ever break out the "air drums" or "air guitars".
• Do tell me about yourself, but don't tell me your life story. A girl likes a little mystery, and if your life story involves anything related to communes, a year of not-showering, several illegitimate children or outstanding warrants in any states, its probably best we not move forward.
  
• Do divulge ahead of time any information on your restraining order, and then DO promptly lose my phone number.
• Do take a hint. "Please leave me alone" actually means just that.
• Don't assume that one glass of wine is ever going to be enough for me. The most economical bet is really just to order the whole bottle.
• Don't wear all one color. And please, no T-shirts, especially if they have an 80s hair band name on them.
  
• Do realize that I will probably forget your name. Don't get offended. Accept that in the spirit of imagination, your re-naming by me is really a rite of passage
  
• Don't tell me to "try it, I might like it". I'm a Scorpio. I won't.
  
• Do go in for the good night kiss. Don't try too hard if I step on your foot instead.
  
• Don't talk too much about your mother, your cat, your Ex(es) or your blankie. I won't return from the restroom.
  

I'm sure they'll be a sequel to this series ... so stay tuned!

Angry Kat!

It's been a busy couple of weeks for Kat Glimmer! Adjusting to my new fantastic life adventures has taken patience, ale, and capitol! So, what have I discovered about my return to New England?

~ Ten Years in Florida left me with some serious inadequate footwear. I mean, when it rains here, it rains for DAYS, not minutes, like I'm used to. A trip to Kittery and the self-professed shoe guru, @Missscandalous, has remedied this situation. I hope ...
~ Lanes are kind of a "suggestion" when it comes to roadways. I guess its a little like coloring outside the lines - when you're driving, just pay attention to what's in front of you, and not what's on the side, or behind you. You are in the lead, after all!
~ When dating in Massachusetts, there is a good chance that the man you are going out with will be named "Joe" or "John". This will come in very handy when you forget your dates name, so just default to one of these two names, knowing that the odds are very good you'll hit your target.
~ Never, ever joke about the loss of a sport team. You'll be instantly excommunicated to some nearby, non-New England state, like Maryland, with no hope of a pardon.
~ In a continuation of her fetishes, Kitty has taken to some very main stream pop. While the Pussycat Dolls definitely make her shake her tail feather, so to speak, I think her *real* heart lies with the some old school Bel Biv Devoe ... "now you know".
~ I downloaded New Kids on the Block's latest album. Yeah? What's it to ya?
~ I now own an electric blanket! I seem to remember some old urban legend that electric blankets cause warts ... or was that kissing frogs? One can never remember.
~ People are still wearing sandals here. Seriously. It keeps the pedicure industry going.
~ An alarming number of "green" people have started to follow me on Twitter. I wonder if they know I'm harboring my secret hatred for the staff bike. Perhaps they are spies, come to check on me ...
~ Verizon is the devil.

I'm sure I'll have more ponderings along the way, but wants to keep you all up to date. Just remember - if you see me, be sure to lie to me and tell me that this fall weather lasts until February. I mean it.

Born Again

I'm pregnant.

Again.

Happens close to five days a week. In addition to shortened gestation periods, I also give birth. Monday through Friday. To litters. Litters of new books. And I love it.

When I explain to people that my job is as a "cataloging librarian", I am usually greeted with a quizzical look. Unless you work in this field, you have probably never heard of the term "Marc Record", don't know the biographical history of Melvil Dewey, or sing the daily praises of Charles Cutter. However, if you've ever BEEN in a library, or better yet, remember your fifth grade lesson on the fabulous Dewey Decimal System, then you know that each book is carefully annotated with complex codings in order to ensure it a proper home on the shelves. That's where I come in.

My litters of new book often arrive still smelling of fresh ink. Sometimes, the pages are still stuck together, and I know that I'm the first person who has had the chance to open this book. I consider this the breathe of life. I read almost each and every flap cover, and give it a cursory once over for misprints, strange pagination, or other weird ailments. Usually, a book caught early can be resuscitated through the wonders of the "no charge replacement". But, a book with a birth defect caught too late can spend an entire lifetime with its disease. And after a brief time, there is no cure.

Once I have ingested the personality of my newborn, I need to assign it a proper home. You see, I'm merely just a foster mother - the guardian responsible for finding it proper placement in the many stacks and branches our library holds. I carefully consider the content and themes of my baby, often consulting with neighbors and peers to see where the placement of similar personalities has taken place. For really difficult children, I sometimes need to consult with the mothership - more commonly known as the Library of Congress - to see where they have placed similar children of the same origin. Once I have arrived at a decision, my infant is stamped with a name, or as we professionals like to call it, a "call number". Chances are for most of the books, it is the same call number it will have it's whole life. Some quick computer coding, a barcode, tape, and my newborn is off to begin her life among the stacks. She'll never be as pretty as the day she left my hands, but all I can do is hope that she'll withstand the masses needing only little repair along the way.

Alas, I am more than just a Book Mother. I am also the Book Grim Reaper. My cubicle often doubles as a graveyard, and when the Messenger of Death delivers upon me a book in such a sad state that it cannot be repaired, it is up to me to wave my scythe and put my book out of its misery. Sometimes they are old and tattered. Sometimes they were young and poorly made. Occasionally, they have fallen victim to an abusive lender (oh, I long for the day I can get my hand on one of THOSE people ...). Either way, they are euthanized with care and concern, and the hope that their words touched someone in someway, no matter what the subject matter.

In any given day, that's what I do. I take pride in my work and knowing that because of my effort, someone - somewhere, is finding what they needed. Maybe it's the book that changed their life. Maybe it's the book that gave them hope again. Maybe it's the book that made them smile when they hadn't all day or all week. I'm the Book Baby Mamma, and I love it.

In Between Days

For the first time ever in my life, I am "in between jobs". Thanks to a hiring process straight out of the 1800s, my new employer alloted several weeks before I start my new position. This worked out well for my transition to Boston, and I have had three weeks of unadulterated unemployment bliss, during which I have run many a chore and accomplished a lot.

Now, having three weeks of "alone time", you tend to learn a few things about yourself. Here goes:

1. My technological un-savyness extends far beyond new media and the various hot topics of the daily Twitter crown (Chrome? Blip? huh?). Case in point: I've just discovered I have zero idea on how to operate the garbage disposal here at the house. At least, I think it's a garbage disposal ...
2. I really can carry on an extended conversation with a cat. Kitty and I have daily coffee chats, and I feel like we're really starting to understand each other. If only I could get here to clean her own litter box ...
3. I really can eat a Steak and Cheese sub ever day! I've never considered myself much of a "sub" person, but boy are they yummy, and there are sub places everywhere.
4. I am perfectly capable of amusing myself. I haven't turned on the TV except to what the train wreck that is New York Goes to Hollywood (VH1) and the occasional History Channel special. It appears my entertainment tastes run the gamut from one extreme to the other.
5. Printer Cartridges, Verizon, and Bank of America are all in an evil plot to "get" me, with a little American Express thrown in on occasion.
6. I will never be able to properly spell "occasion".
7. I can survive without coffee

So, I start my "employment" next week. I am debating if I want to participate in the Battle of the RMV this week, or save that for six months down the road. Six months down the road is in the lead right now.

Cheers!
Kat

Subway Etiquette and More

Progress, People!

Thanks to my new electronic boyfriend, Tom-Tom, I have managed to only get lost TWICE this week. Tom-Tom was an excellent purchase, especially since it talks to me in a male, British voice that indulges a fantasy I won't be getting into in this blog. There is the minor problem of being able to read Tom-Tom while driving at the same time, but what relationship isn't fraught with communication issues? I'm sure Tom-Tom and I will be able to work it out.

I have ventured into the fabulous world of the "MBTA" (that's Boston's Public Transportation system for you non-Mass folk). I have to admit - their website is pretty good, even though I still can't figure out which bus seems to run up and down the mountain that I live on.

However, I have to comment on a strange and developing Subway Paranoia that I seem to be developing. It's the Seat Movers. Now, I'm respectful of people's personal space. I don't take up more than just my seat on the subway, and I keep my belongings on my person. I shower daily (sometimes twice!) and even wear a light perfume which is not overwhelming in scent. So why do people sitting next to me get up and move seats? I mean, I'm not talking WIDE open seating. I'm talking they go from sitting next to me, and go and sit next to someone else - in some instances, what I would consider to be a less desirable seat mate. Am I not adhering to some subway etiquette that I'm not aware of? Maybe I smile too much or look friendly? Perhaps I need to offer gum to my seat-mates in an effort to make peace so they don't abandon me for the person across the way. What's WRONG with me? HELP!!!!

In other Subway news, I saw not one - but TWO individuals playing with their Rubik's Cubes on the subway. I think I want one, and for those of you itching to buy me a present, my birthday is coming up.

OK - off to make my second trip to buy a printer. I made a trip over the weekend to the "phantom" Burlington Coat Factory in Cambridge. And today, I walked into a Staples that - oopsy- wasn't actually open yet. Signage, people - SIGNAGE!

Take Two,
Kat

Yum, Yum, Gimmee Some

The moment it touched my lips, I knew we were going to have a long lasting relationship. It was so sweet, soft, and juicy. I could smell it from the doorway, and I knew that it would be mine. Yes, you have consumed me, authentic steak and cheese sub, with the light mayo and extra tomatoes. We shall be as one.

Living in the land of "Disney" for so long pretty much beat any original food thoughts out of my head. So to have a real "sub" that hasn't been produced ala Quizzno's or Subway is a treat in and of itself. It almost makes up for the fact that apparently due to my "accent" (????), I had to say the word "jalapeno poppers" six times before the gentleman on the phone new what I was ordering.

So, I can check "eat real food" off of my list for this week. I've learned three new Red Sox players. I've used "wicked" at least once daily in a sentence. And I've actually learned the name of the Boston mayor, and the location of the six nearby "packies" for emergency liquor supplies. I'm figuring I should rotate them so I don't become a regular.

I have mostly unpacked and the house is in semi-decent shape anticipating @colettebenoir's homecoming. I even broke out that "iron" contraption - the one that makes the steam and makes things less wrinkly - and even used it! Now, I have come to the realization that I:
a. Don't own a sweatshirt
b. Don't own a pair of winter "shoes"
c. Need to buy a Park-ah and probably a rain jacket
d. Have no idea how to close this window

Anyway, here are some as-promised photos from the road trip.

I'll be updating this Blog Mission Statement soon enough.

Home on the Range!

Greetings Readers!
I have arrived safe and sound in my new home in the South of Boston. After receiving a frantic call that my movers were coming on Sunday (yes, SUNDAY!), I had to bolt from the home of @thediva and book it to Mass. Other than two hours of traffic on the TappenZee bridge (spent watching my Tori Amos video collection), my ride was uneventful. Although I have to say - Connecticut is a much bigger state than I remember!
So, I am refamiliarizing myself with "Northern" living. For those of you that don't know, I grew up on the Mass/NH border but have lived most of my adult life in Florida. Here are some observations I have made thus far about my return to the North:

* GAS STOVES! Apparently, not only do they still make them, but people still have them. I vaguely recall something about a pilot light and a match, but I think I'll wait for @Colettebenoir to get home before attempting that one
* HILLS! My poor Florida-raised Corolla almost went into shock when she went up the side of the Mountain we live on. Poor thing. Wait until she sees snow for the first time.
* DRIVING! So, street signs are kind of an "optional", take-them-when-you-can-get-them thing. I ventured for a ride into Cambridge yesterday, and got lost two miles from home. GPS is being invested in - the sooner, the better.
* ROUNDABOUTS! I can see these having been fun on a horse and carriage, but throwing a bunch of cars in there? Bad idea. And they still build new ones!
* STAIRS! They are EVERYWHERE!
* STOP AND SHOP ~ You're still the ugliest grocery store on record.
* LIQUOR LAWS ~ I mean, seriously? Is this one of *those* states? I better stock up on wine.
* PARALLEL PARKING ~ Believe it or not, I actually used to be good at this at one time. But, I'm thinking I'm going to need a little practice.

So, I'm enjoying my current state of unemployment until the new job begins. It's going to be spent figuring out my public transportation options, buying comfortable walking shoes, and walking up the mountain once a day to ensure I don't have a heart attack on my way back from the commuter rail sometime. Until then - cheers! It was a very fun road trip and I'd like to do it again someday - minus the ghosts and the TappenZee wait.

Alexandria & More!

Next stop on the Fantastic Road Adventures of Kat Glimmer was Alexandria, Virginia!
Alexandria was recommended by a friend as a great place to stop if you want to get into Washington without all the "fun" of having to drive into Washington. The traffic there did not disappoint: I was stuck for almost an hour to go two miles. But, once in Alexandria, it's a perfectly lovely "cosmopolitan" little town. The streets are lined with shops and pubs, most of which carry the name "tavern". Live music was everywhere and even though I was there on a Thursday, I think I had invaded the town's date night. Unfortunately, my pub food was just so-so, but I give the musician a thumbs-up!
So, since it appears I can't go anywhere without some gem of catastrophe, my hotel lost power for close to two hours. It was actually more than just the hotel - it was the entire city block. The Hampton Inn graciously issued me a flashlight but did not seem to understand my remorse at having again missed the opportunity to watch Pretty Woman all the way through (that movie and Footloose - I have never seen in their entirety!). I took that as my chance to go to bed, and get my first, full, ghost-free night's sleep in quite a few days.
The next day I ventured onto the DC Metro. Once I overcome the incredibly confusing and archaic pass purchase instructions (c'mon people - more pictures! Take a nod from Denver), I purchased by pass and was off on my Space Mountain-like journey. Since I'm a fan of subways, I will say that the DC Metro was VERY clean, albeit VERY dark. Not sure if perhaps those two are connected in some way.
My stop at the Library of Congress was absolutely magnificent. I really can't believe I have never been before, and it was an absolutely FANTASTIC, interactive, and moving experience. Go ahead- laugh at me - I don't care! I didn't get shushed once while I was there, and I never could figure out how to make it into the "big" reading room, but the view was spectacular. I can cross one more thing off my "list".
I have now arrived safely at the home of @thediva where I am being forced into an involuntary fast. Should the never ending shower actually curtail at some point, there is the promise of bacon and pedicures (bacon pedicures?). Since the movers have completely reneged on their agreement to deliver their furniture by Tuesday of next week (I display zero shock at this), I've got time before I roll into my final destination of Boston. I should be arriving tomorrow, unless the lure of Foxwoods gets me on my way ...

Raleigh Ramblings

OK, so technically ~ I'm not IN Raleigh. I'm in Rocky Mount, which is a town that appears to be comprised of nothing but hotels and chain restaurants. In truth, I'm not even sure that I'm going to be driving through Raleigh - but any blog reader of mine wouldn't truly be about semantics, would they?
I survived yesterday's road adventure, dead tired from spending my last night in Savannah wondering if the damn haunted TV was going to come on again (it didn't by the way). Then, thanks to the very nice valet, my car lights were left on, draining my battery. After "Bubba" (no joke) gave my car a jump (and leered at me in a way that suggested it wasn't the only thing he was thinking of jumping), I was off and running.
As previously tweeted, don't ever have to pee on South Carolina. There were very little stops on the stretch if I95 I was traveling on, and I was grateful to have waited until North Carolina for that second cup of coffee. Also, South Carolina is completely devoid of signage. Now, the simplicity is beautiful in many respects, but at the same time, girlfriend would like to know if she's even close to the speed limit, you know what I mean?
I was able to meet up with a friend and have dinner last night here in Rocky Mount, and the company was lovely and much appreciated. Today, I venture to Alexandria, Virginia. My timing kind of sucks and it appears as though I'll be wading in right about rush hour. I may just have to detour along the way (although there are no South of the Borders to look forward to) to put me in a tad later.
Tomorrow - it's off the the Library of Congress!

Scrumptious Savannah!

How many of YOU can say you're being chased by a Hurricane? Mother Nature and I have long since had some bones to pick with each other, but I give her credit: this is a new one for me! After having returned from Vegas, still slightly hungover and completely jet-lagged, I was greeted with the news that I needed to get the HELL out of Florida! STAT!

I write to you from the Marshall House Hotel in Savannah, Georgia. My "quaint" little room comes complete with flat screen TV, large armoire and view of the central street below. Reputed to be "haunted" (and featured on the Travel Channel), my TV turned on by itself at 5:45 this morning. I'm going to imagine, very hard, that it's because there is an alarm set on it. I don't want anyone telling me any different. My plans for today include taking a Harbor Tour because what better time to be out in the boat then in the midst of an impending hurricane!

So, I have learned a few things about Road Tripping in my brief experience thus far. I figured I would share them with all of you (along with some pictures, once I get the damn camera cord out of the car).

• You can never have two many Slim Jims. They are the best road trip "meal" - ever!
  
• I would forsake chocolate for my XM Satellite Radio. Go ahead - revoke my estrogen card.
  
• Even though I passed several "reputable" gas station chains, I always seem to end up at the unknown, unbranded ones. "Billy Bob's Gas & Go" promises the "charm" of questionable bathrooms, shifty-eyed loiterers and gas pumps that don't actually take credit. But - they have the best Slim Jim selection around!
  
• When I sing in the car, my voice is beautiful. And I still know the words to every Stone Temple Pilots song.
  
• I'm still distracted by shiny things. I actually pulled off the highway because I saw a shiny purple bra in the window that I just HAD to have! TMI? Too bad.
  
• I should have replaced my windshield wipers prior to leaving Florida
  
• I may be the last person on Earth who actually uses the hotel shampoo and conditioner
  
• I never remember to pack Q-tips (but the hotel provided them!)
  
• I love hotel robes in an unnatural way
• Valet Parking is the BEST, even if I still don't know what the appropriate tip is
  

So, that's Kat's Road Trip Revelations so far! Tomorrow, it's off to Raleigh.

Kat's Cross Country Adventure

Hey there Blog readers! Remember me?

Yeah, I’ve had a lot going on, so poor Kustomer is King has gone by the wayside while I’ve included in some new life adventures. I may refocus the blog. I may just post random things here. I make no promises, and I commit to nothing.

So, my reason for writing today is to bring you Kat’s Cross Country Adventures. I’m moving to Boston, as most of you know, and am gonna take my sweet-time getting there. My five day trek brings me across most of the Eastern seaboard, and, barring getting lost somewhere around the DC area, puts me smack into Boston at the end of August.

Here’s where I’m going. I’ll try and provide some pictures from the road, assuming I can function an action digital camera after years of disposable fun. If I’m going to be in your neighborhood… let me know! I’ll even let you buy me a beer.

August 19 – Leave Orlando, Arrive in Savannah Georgia. Eat Friend Chicken and take a Ghost Tour. Hang out in a park. Get very sorry I ever ate the Fried Chicken.

August 20 – Roll in to Raleigh (NC). Lament that I’ve passed up the chance to stay at South of the Border. Avoid getting a speeding ticket. Comment on how many trees the Carolinas seem to have. Look for George Bing to pass me some donuts.

August 21 – Wade into Washington. I’ll probably get hopelessly lost, and call on you, DC area friends, to come save me (are you reading, Tycho Spyker?). Visit the Library of Congress. Geek out at my Mecca. Buy an overpriced T-shirt. Ask if there really is a President’s Book of Secrets, ala National Treasure 2. Observe a moment of silence.

August 22nd – Diva-land! I’m coming to Jersey for super snuggles. Oh – unless for some reason Atlantic City is on the way. Then I’m totally scrapping my visit to Diva. Sorry, sweetie, but it *is* Atlantic City. Wanna join me?

August 23rd – Bonkers for Bean Town! I’m here! I’m here! Colette Benoir has bravely left me the key, and I’m promising only to have Miss Scandalous over for the first, oh, week or so.

Probably right about the time I’ll be rolling into Boston is about the time I’ll wish I had purchased some sort of GPS system. But Christmas is coming…

So, that’s the Adventures of Kat with a big **** that plans and dates may change! And hell, if I really like it in Atlantic City, I might take the whole weekend.

PS – I’m currently taking wagers on what state I’ll get my speeding ticket in. No cross country trip is complete. Any takers?

Delta, My Frenemy

Ah, Delta Airlines.
We have had a love/hate relationship since the start of (travel) time. We are like the friends who are really nice to each others (inter)face, but then behind our backs, talk a whole lotta smack. If this were high school, we would have already stolen each other's boyfriends, slept with each other's favorite teachers, and scribbled over our faces in the Yearbook.
But I digress.
It seems no matter how I try to avoid it, Delta always provides the best deal to the parts of the country I travel (usually, the Northeast). I've got their sky miles, and like their online booking engine, more so than Travelocity or Orbitz. Once, Delta offered me a $200 credit for taking an EARLY flight that got me to my destination ahead of schedule. And - they are the only airline that proactively offers TWO bags of peanuts, knowing that one is, well, just not enough.
But there's where the happy story ends.
Delta, for reasons known only to the airline scheduling gods, changes their flight schedules with record speed. In booking a flight to Hartford yesterday, I have already received two, yes TWO, notices of a change in itinerary. In 24 hours! This reminds me of the Christmas of 2002, where Delta canceled my flight home only AFTER I had been dropped at the very busy, and nearly impossible to get to Logan Airport (BOS). Their reason? Not enough pilots. And, don't even get me STARTED on the luggage disaster of 1998, when my bag arrived wrapped in duct tape to my local airport (fyi: read your airline contacts - they cap that compensation!). I'm still reeling from the make-up case loss in Ontario, Ca 2005 (that Sephora lipstick was discontinued, dammit).
Yet, like a bad soap opera, I keep coming back for more. You're the habit I just can't quit, Delta. You are the airline I can not avoid. I think we'll continue to keep slapping each other around until we - well - learn to like it. Or until I learn to change my name on the passenger manifest.

Dell Woes, Part Two

I am a big believer in virtual karma, so when I blogged previously about my friend Diva's issues with her Dell computer, I should have figured that it would come back around. And it did. This week, I went through yet another power cord on my year old Dell Computer. Now, I'll preface this by saying that in general, I have been happy with the purchase of my Dell laptop. Other than an inexplicable noise that emits from the CD drive (I call it "virtual flatulence"), it performs well and has provided little to no software issues. It is, however, a power whore. In a year of owning this laptop, I have gone through ONE battery, and TWO power cords. In a YEAR!
My most recent call to customer service was pleasant, although I have a few pointers for the congenial yet misguided phone representative. The first: please don't overuse my name. Calling me "Miss Kat" in every sentence is distracting, and reminds me of that fourth grade saying, "that's my name, don't wear it out". Two: Yes, I know my warranty is up. Thanks for checking, but a reminder that I should have purchased the extended plan is probably not the most appropriate when I'm about to shell out extra dough. Three: When I am peeved about going through yet ANOTHER power cord in a year period (which seems to be one too many, is it not?), it's not really the best time to try and upgrade/sell me on a new computer. I know it's probably your job, but why don't we work on getting this one to perform correctly for a bit, shall we? Lastly, when you said you would "overnight" the new power cord, I didn't really expect next day delivery. But, um, a week? I hope that I was not charged extra for this "overnight" delivery, because that is going to result in an unpleasant phone call we really both want to avoid (PS - I took your name, Dell Phone Agent! And I'm not afraid to use it).
Wish me luck, readers! And if that power cord doesn't come by tomorrow, pray for the unsuspecting phone representative who gets my return call...
Update: Power cord arrived today. *sighs of relief* for all.

Dirty Tricks

Greetings gentle readers,
It's been an eventful week in Customer Service Land, with Queen Kat's Krafty Kustomer's attempting to pull out their best "dirty tricks". Dirty Tricks can be defined as those actions customers take to attempt to REALLY piss you off when they don't like your answer or service. Case in point: I was holding a customer accountable for a $30 bill recently. After several painful and long conversations, the customer reluctantly agreed to pay, but decided to do so as annoyingly as possible. So, they entered my establishment, and presented me with a jar of pennies - $30 worth. Now, this could have pissed me off, but I decided I would play along with the customer, since he had initiated the game. I accepted the jar of pennies, and proceeded to count them, very, very slowly, in front of the customer prior to issuing a receipt. Oh - and did I mention I got distracted on a few occasions and had to start over? Pity.
One reader wrote in with a story about how a parent entered her store with her two whiny, foul-mouthed, and general ill-behaved children. After several minutes of harassing other customers, the older child stuffed a toilet with toilet paper and rolls, resulting in a $500 plumbing bill for the shop owner. The kicker? The oblivious parent called to demand a $.10 refund for having been "overcharged" at the establishment. The shop keeper's smart response? To tape her $.10 to the plumbing bill, in the event that she ever came to collect her "debt".
The lesson here? Dirty Tricks don't work. They really just give those of us in the 'Biz fodder for great stories, and well, blog posts. They provide us with amusement, and frankly, give us a reason to laugh. On second thought, keep the dirty tricks coming! *Winks*.

The Evil Tree

Ah, the evils of the phone tree system. Here, I reference my BFF the Diva and her most recent blog post which details her excruciating experience with the Dell Computer Support Line. I can't relate, as I'm no longer allowed to call Dell Customer Support. It stems back to what I deem to have been a minor incident involving some letters I wrote to Dell that resulted in a visit from the FBI...

But anyway, here is Diva's Blog Post.

*Hugs* @ The Diva. We've all been there

PS - anyone know what happened to the Dell Dude? You know, "Dude, you're getting a dell?"

Transfer Time!

Breaking news from the Queen Kat front:
In March, I am being transferred to a non-customer service area! That's right! I'll be spending a whole year AWAY from the customers. My employer is tucking me away in the basement, where my clients will be packing tape, shredders, stickers, and an occasional larger-than-average bug. While this in general is good news, I have to say it brought to mind that song "Self Esteem" by The Offspring:

Now I know I'm being used
That's ok because I like the abuse

Is it possible that (gulp) I might actually MISS customer service for the time that I am gone? Should I have my peers and coworkers yell at me on occasion so I don't lose my touch? Even more shocking, my new position will require interaction with vendors who want to sell me stuff. That's right - folks - I'm going to get brown-nosed! Wow - so surreal.
But don't worry - I've still got fodder for this blog for many, many entries to come!

The Voyeur

I am *the* Customer Service Voyeur. It's true. All the years in this industry have brought out some demented fascination with mankind, and I know this takes "people watching" to an entirely new level. What is a Customer Service Voyeur, you ask? Well, for one, it's a person who stations themselves near the Guest Services Desk on a cruise ship, like I did on a recent trip on Royal Caribbean. Sure, there's drinking, gambling, entertainment and more on a cruise ship, but I find the most fascinating show usually takes on the Main Deck, with people dressed in crisp white suits and twisty ties, and involves a queue and stanchions. For some reason, cruising brings out the most bizarre of customer service complaints. Having actually worked on a cruise ship on a few occasions, I have seen requests from guests that boggle the mind and spirit. These include one women who insisted the kitchen make her fresh squeezed carrot juice on a daily basis, or some bizarre, skin-related growth was liable to take over the left side of her face (her husband looked on, embarrassed, and I could tell he was not prepared to commit to this lifetime carrot juice fetish). I saw another women berate a poor steward because he was not able to produce "Epsom salts" at the speed of light to assist with her aching heinie (yes, insert "ass" joke here). When the poor, male steward could not comply, the women insisted they swing the ship to the next port of call and procure some, because that's what good customer service is, is it not? (I would have shuttled her in a dingy to Cuba, but alas, only the captain of a cruise ship can make these decisions). And, my personal favorite, the cruise line guest who got himself blitzed in Cozumel and missed the ship entirely. Special arrangements needed to commence to board at sea via the hull of the ship, and I had the fantastic opportunity to see this guest (who was traveling with his family), presented with the customized "bill" for the additional services rendered not only by the cruise line, but also by third parties, in delivering his hung-over body back to the vessel (helpful hint to all you tequila lovers: It's not cheap). My favorite gem from this most recent trip occurred when a relatively young women approached the desk, bill in hand, and broke out in tears over a charge for a bottle of wine that she absolutely did not order, absolutely did not drink, and absolutely was NOT paying for. As she berated the patient steward about the incompetence of the ships billing system, her voice grew louder, her sobs higher, and her pitch started to draw the gaze of those nearby (simple non-voyeurs). About ten minutes into the interaction, when the poor steward had already fetched some tissues, the women's incredibly helpful husband arrived to collect her. Oh - and did I mention he was kind enough to bring the wayward, and empty, wine bottle with him? So, next time you're out and about, grab a good book, station yourself near the customer service desk, and collect some blog posts for Queen Kat. You'll be amazed at the free, virtually untapped entertainment available at your finger tips. Be sure to email me your observations at Kustomerisking@yahoo.com .