Katie West

syntheticpubes:

Laugh until the marketing shills have to change their tack. Laugh until all billboards are just polite requests. “Please investigate our new product online if you have a moment. We’re really quite proud of it. Thank you ever so much.”

We didn’t have a TV for most of my childhood, and it’s scary to look back and notice its efficiency, before and after. Its introduction brought neediness; I found my young self distressed that I did not have all the toys and clothes I wanted. After I learned what an Eddie Bauer edition car was (precisely what we didn’t have—tinted power windows, premium sound system, leather everywhere), I used to play a game in my head: each time I saw a car I fancied, I’d say/think “I want that in Eddie Bauer.” Eventually it was just shortened to “That,” and, although inaudible, it didn’t count unless I formed the word with my mouth. I spent a few years touching my tongue to the back of my front teeth, quietly coveting a dozen or dozens of cars each day. “That. That. That. That. That. That. That. That.”

A young boy consciously cataloging all the things he’d never have—how depressing.

But it was precisely the desired outcome.

Now days I can’t watch television for more than a couple minutes without becoming apoplectic. Hernia-inducing levels of rage. “How dare they insult our intelligence like that? Cleansing micro-beads? Really!?” and on and on.

So I try to laugh instead. I laugh to drive away the knowledge that marketing ‘wisdom’ still works on a great many people. I laugh in hopes of looking like less of a cynic. I laugh to try and broadcast the insanity of it all.

I’ve never really been very good at being a Bitch. I just wasn’t built with those fast-witted, mean response mechanisms, that can come in handy sometimes. I’m not very good at confrontation, or sending through my lips the words that always come to me later, always too late. I can’t really think that fast, I’m too meticulous - I spend too long trying to pick a movie to rent because I am worried I might miss something if I go too fast. I take hours to play chess because I have to weigh the potential of every possible move very carefully.

So the same thing happens to me when someone is confronting me in a hostile way; I’m taking too long to weigh my options, to play out in my head every possible outcome of what my potential words can create. So I get flustered and my face heats up and I turn all red and if I’m angry it just exasperates the entire situation. If I’m angry and trying to have a verbal dispute of some sort, well, just forget it, I’m much too emotional. I will inevitably start to yell and then start to cry. But sometimes I wish I could be a bitch. I wish I could really threaten people with my Cunning Bitch Factor. That people would say, “Don’t mess with Katie West! She can be a real bitch if you try to fuck with her!” But I’m so not. I can’t be bitchy even when I try. I can be too honest in inappropriate situations, but that just comes off cruel and lacks that swagger that bitchiness requires. So I tend to avoid situations where I have to be a bitch, even if sometimes people really deserve having someone bitch them out because they are the bitchiest, cuntiest people on the planet.

(My father, when he’s angry, will growl. I kid you not. Growl like a bear. A while ago I asked him why he always did that and he said it was because he didn’t want to say something when he’s angry, that he’ll regret later when he’s not. Yeah, my dad is kinda awesome like that.)

Sometimes when people leave stupid comments on my photos or my blog, I contemplate saying something bitchy in response, but then I think about what will happen if they respond - we’ll be arguing on the internet! Which is something I will try to avoid at all costs.I also only tend to argue things if I know all the facts, and just knowing the commenter is a douchebag - just not enough info!

When people first meet me, they sometimes think I’m a bitch because I don’t say very much and I always look so serious, and they come up with nicknames for me like, The Ice Queen, which I don’t really mind so much. Ha! I actually think to myself, when I first meet people, “Katie, soften your expression, make yourself approachable!” I don’t know if it works.

Anyway, my point is that not being able to be a bitch is tough sometimes, you know it?

Just spent an hour on the phone with Bell Technical Support. His name was Billy. I’m almost positive he was Asian. He was inside my modem, and then he was inside my computer, controlling me. He sounded young, and good-looking. He’s in Oshawa. He was wonderful. Oshawa isn’t that far away, right?

le sigh.

Billy, if you’re reading this, email me. We have much to discuss, and not just about how awesome my network name is, if you catch my drift.