Are you there, coma? It’s me, Kat st. Kat.

Late Monday night I took an effective dose of some mild painkillers and rode a bus 500 miles down the east coast. The following is an excerpt from my stream of consciousness.
“I am in a Long Distance Relationship with “another young writer” that lives in Brooklyn, United States.
On my way home from visiting him I have to take two busses. I am on the second, the megabus from washington dc to durham, and i can’t decide if i’m bored. I can’t decide if i am nervous about not having a ride to my house when i get to the stop at 4 in the morning. i can’t decide how fucked up i am after taking those two percocets. was the idea that i would sleep until i got home? i don’t remember. i think i’m having way more fun forcing myself to stay up so i can feel just how useless my brain has become. i am typing very slowly. i can’t remember if i already typed that. i am next to the emergency exit on the bus. for a while when the internet wasn’t working i debated pulling it to make a huge scene and express my frustration. the internet still doesn’t work but my second percocet kicked in and now i feel like one of those stress reliever balls. i feel like one of toro y moi’s synthesizers. i feel like one of the blockheads from gumby. i feel like anything on the show gumby. i feel like an animated video transition from I Love the 80s on vh1. i feel like i’m being given a swirly in a toilet filled with mashed potatoes. the thing about percocet is that it’s mostly tylenol.

i am listening to “Everybody Everybody” by Black Box, which is one of only 200 songs i put on the ipod nano that used to belong to my ex. i just reached to rub my itchy nose and on the way i slapped my mouth with what i thought was very little force but sure enough i am bleeding. Now I am listening to the song “Simple Things” by Zero 7 which is basically like taking three more percocets, lighting 50 tea candles and taking a bubble bath, except that instead of a bath I’m in a bus and instead of bubbles it is filled with some strangers.

shoutout to my boyfriend who is on a new york subway right now. i wonder if he is fucked up enough to pretend the random stranger next to him is just me and that we are still chillin. I’m trying to do that with the girl next to me but she has twist-outs which don’t look super flattering on white dudes.

if someone could keep a journal during a coma and we were able to compare notes…

but see when you’re in a coma you don’t have the luxury of making ridiculous faces in the dark because your face feels funny. so i win.

THE COMA DIARIES

SEX AND TEH COMA, BY ANNE FRANK

COMA ON EILEEN

JUST ME N MY COMA

COMA AND BEEZUS BY JUDY BLUME OR WHATEVER

-possible titles for a fake coma memoir

i could have packed like 5 more outfits in these bags under my eyes. i have to work at 9 am tomorrow/today which is pretty stupid. at work my friend Carl* who is on work leave from prison will be very excited to see me and the sugar skull i drew on a picture of what i think might have been a young queen elizabeth as a souvenir. Carl is my life coach. He teaches me about rising above the haters and following my dreams. He thinks i am going to write the great american novel. I have never mentioned wanting to write a novel. I might write a novel about Carl.

It feels like someone filled my ears with opium-infused marshmallow fluff. I keep seeing all this horse imagery on highway billboards and other than a vague curiosity i feel largely unaffected by this coincidence.

If listening to gucci mane makes you shed a single tear for your long distance boyfriend and crack a mona lisa smile while looking at the stars, scale of 1 to 10, how normal is that.

~

I feel pretty good about most things.”

*name has been changed

Advertisements

Sext Me Like You Mean It

Confession time. When I was little I was really into AOL chat rooms. Every few nights after Lizzie Mcguire went off and my parents went to sleep, I’d spend a good 2 or 3 hours having conversations with the alter egos of sex offenders on multiple continents, lying about my own A/S/L in what I thought was a clever ruse for manipulating teenage boys. I never really considered that this might be a fairly unsafe way for an 11 year old girl to spend her time, and despite my shock and disgust at the picture of that (I kid you not) three foot long black dong that someone sent me one evening, I didn’t possess the common sense to look away. Luckily, albeit mortifying, my parents eventually hinted that they “knew what was going on,” and this whole charade was put to end before I ended up on To Catch a Predator or in a real life version of Hard Candy (you decide if being pursued by crazed child molester is worse than being compared to Ellen Page).

Fast forward about five years, when I was the last non-deaf/mute person on planet earth without a cell phone. This unfortunate circumstance, combined with my inability to have  vigorous sex with my boyfriend on all surfaces at all times, led to some seriously risky landline phone sex that I wish I could say was never overheard by someone blood related to me. I must have really liked this guy, because actual voice-on-voice phone sex is a serious commitment in the 10th grade. I wasn’t just telling some boy on AIM that I wanted to see his peen; I was exposing myself to the very awkward, very uncomfortable “oohs” and “ahs” of inexperienced 16-year-old fantasy. This was some next-level shit.

But I am an adult now, and my relationships have gotten a lot more sophisticated. Like, I have real-life sex sometimes with people my own age. I’ve been in one or two semi-healthy serious commitment thingamajigs and managed to make it out alive. And for the times when real human contact fails to deliver, I have a cell phone that sends both text messages and one-ish megapixel photographs at the speed of light to people who have remote sexual interest in me. Recently I realized that this, beyond all other forms of communication, might be my favorite way to interact with other humans.

Sexting is the low maintenance younger sister of the Actual Relationship. All of the basic elements of desire and intent are in place, and your knowledge of the person on the other end is usually at least one step above anonymity. Whether the two of you would actually “do it” if given the opportunity depends on your respective commitments and how attractive the two of you actually find each other. There could be some major tectonic something-or-other keeping the two of you from what you are certain would be a physically and spiritually enlightening experience for all. Or perhaps one, maybe neither, of you would ever actually go through with it and the other is drunk and in need of attention. I have probably been on every side of each of these scenarios, and this is the first of many reasons why sexting is such a beautiful concept: It is truly of no consequence how the two of you actually feel about each other, as sexual partners or as individuals. All that is necessary for a decent sext exchange is faint interest in having someone describe the current state of their anatomy to you in explicit detail, your willingness to reciprocate, and the basic understanding that neither of you is going to find and rape the other.

The second thing that sets sexting apart from real courtship thus making it infinitely better is the ability to participate while looking like shit. One of my favorite pastimes is sitting around in sweatpants and a layer of mild body odor with my stupid hair in an amorphous bun on top of my head and talking to an old flame (or random hookup) about the sex dreams we had about each other the previous night. It would be hard for you to convince me that there is anything better than watching Workaholics and eating Cheetos in a state that would usually make you hate yourself, but every few minutes having your ego stroked by someone sending you emoticons about your clitoris. In fact, you can pretty much sext during anything, no matter the importance. I, like many, have been known to get quite verbose when drunk at parties. But I can also say I’ve sent a few delicious tidbits on a break at work or under the table during dinner with my parents. I mean this shit can last all day.

It gets a little more complicated once naked pictures come into play. Maybe some of you aren’t really “into” naked pics because you always worry deep down about what people will see on your Behind the Music one day, which I would understand if it were still 1995. But it’s 2012, and if you don’t have at least one naked picture floating around you must be doing something very wrong. I encourage you to unleash a couple nudes into the universe, at least before you become someone’s mother. If you ever become famous enough that anyone but the recipient in question ever gives a shit, it will only help your career. The only reason anyone ever defends Chris Brown is because of how big his dick is. Just think, if you look good naked, you can get away with disfiguring someone’s face. I’m pretty sure it won’t matter that you showed someone.

I usually like to start with something tasteful yet tantalizing, maybe a shot from the shoulders-up with my mouth open a little bit or a bra strap hanging off. Those are usually pretty easy and inconspicuous to take yourself if you’re in a public bathroom. If you’re feeling in the mood, a good nip-slip or two never hurt anybody. Then, as things progress and you guys get drunker, depending on how much you trust this creep, you might want to send a full body shot. Who am I to judge? But I will say, they are very hard to take yourself. You may need five tequila shots and a very good friend to help you out with this one. Who knows what you might get sent in return. I once dated a guy who sent me pictures of things he’d drawn on his boner with sharpie. The possibilities are endless.

People often ask me, Kat, what happens when you have more than one sexting partner? Are you expected to be monogamous? Is it tacky to reuse the same naked pictures with multiple people? The answer, of course, is I don’t know. I have never been very good at “not being controversial when it comes to doing what I want sexually and otherwise.” The line between flirting and being a tramp is always a blurry one, both sides of which I’ve been told I belong. But I say use your discretion. I probably wouldn’t give the impression that you actually like someone if you’re sending jpegs of your cooch to all his friends. But if two poor schmucks hit you up on the same night and you’ve got last week’s fabulous titty pic waiting in the wings, it’s not illegal to re-send it once or twice. Those things don’t grow on trees. You can always save the really special photos for that really special person.

Or better still, you could actually have sex with them.

one man’s trash is another man’s tv

Good evening, everyone. I’ve had a pretty excellent weekend so far, but somehow (and don’t say the three bottles of pink champagne or the Pall Malls I bummed on Friday) I am sick again. I’ve lost a little sleep since I’ve been transitioning back into “being kind of responsible.” I’ve got the sneezes, one of those tragic rattling coughs that is disgusting just to hear, and only one functioning eardrum. But it’s raining, it’s Sunday, and there’s nothing I would rather do than sit around in this stupid Harley Davidson t-shirt and talk to Queen Reid who is “studying” abroad in London.  I’m going to present our latest work as my post for the day.

REALITY DUMPSTERVISION: A COMPREHENSIVE LIST

BY REID KUTROW AND KAT ST. KAT

////////////////////////////////////////////////////

KOURTNEY AND KIM TAKE A DUMPSTER
REAL HOUSEWIVES OF A DUMPSTER
A SHOT AT A DUMPSTER WITH TILA TEQUILA
DUMPSTER OF LOVE
I LOVE THE DUMPSTER STRIKES BACK
THE REAL WORLD: DUMPSTER
DUMPSTER SWAP
THE CROCODILE DUMPSTER
TRADING DUMPSTERS
SURVIVOR: REDEMPTION DUMPSTER
WHAT NOT TO WEAR IN A DUMPSTER
HOW DO I LOOK IN A DUMPSTER
EXTREME MAKEOVER: DUMPSTER EDITION
TRUE LIFE: I’M IN A DUMPSTER
WHO WANTS TO BE IN A DUMPSTER
MADE: I WANNA BE IN A DUMPSTER
DATE MY DUMPSTER
DOG THE DUMPSTER HUNTER
INTERVENTION: ADDICTED TO DUMPSTERS
CELEBRITY REHAB WITH DR. DUMPSTER
CELEBRITY DUMPSTER CLUB
THE BAD GIRLS’ DUMPSTER
PROJECT DUMPSTER
DUMPSTER ACADEMY
JANICE DICKINSON MODELING DUMPSTER
AMERICA’S NEXT TOP DUMPSTER
THE DUMPSTER LIFE
DUMPSTER KNOWS BEST
MY BIG FAT OBNOXIOUS DUMPSTER
DUMPSTERZILLAS
GENE SIMMONS: FAMILY DUMPSTER
ICE AND DUMPSTER
RUN’S DUMPSTER
SO YA THINK YOU’RE A DUMPSTER
DUMPSTERS WITH THE STARS
MY SUPER DUMPSTER 16
KIMORA: LIFE IN A DUMPSTER
CANDID DUMPSTER
DUMPSTER’D
DUMPSTER PREP
DUMPSTER IDOL
DUMPSTERS AND TIARAS
AMERICA’S GOT DUMPSTERS
THE DUMPSTER DIARIES
DUMPSTER CHEF
MAKING THE DUMPSTER
I WANNA WORK FOR A DUMPSTER
AMERICA’S BEST DUMPSTER CREW
I WANT A FAMOUS DUMPSTER
MTV’S DUMPSTER DIARY
17 DUMPSTERS AND COUNTING
JON AND KATE PLUS 8 DUMPSTERS
THE DUMPSTER WHISPERER
DUMPSTER MANOR
ROB DYRDEK’S DUMPSTER FACTORY
D.U.M.P.S.T.E.R.S
DUMPSTER BEACH
DUMPSTERS ON ICE
DEADLIEST DUMPSTER
ICE ROAD DUMPSTERS
DUMPSTER INK
DUMPSTER SHORE
DUMPSTER OR NO DUMPSTER
TEEN DUMPSTER
TRUTH OR DUMPSTER
WHOSE DUMPSTER IS IT ANYWAY
MEET THE DUMPSTERS
THE SURREAL DUMPSTER
THE ANNA NICOLE DUMPSTER
TEMPTATION DUMPSTER
THE DUMPSTERS NEXT DOOR
DUMPSTER CAMP
DINNERS, DRIVE-INS AND DUMPSTERS
THE DUMPSTERETTE
DUMPSTER RAIDERS
DUMPSTER 911
ANTHONY BOURDAIN: NO DUMPSTERS
QUEER EYE FOR THE DUMPSTER GUY
DUMPSTER BOSS
IRON DUMPSTER
DUMPSTER WARS
ACE OF DUMPSTERS
DUMPSTER 90210
FOR THE LOVE OF A DUMPSTER
LOCKED UP: IN A DUMPSTER
TO CATCH A DUMPSTER
PIMP MY DUMPSTER
SAY YES TO THE DUMPSTER
ELIMIDUMPSTER
WHO WANTS TO MARRY A DUMPSTER
MYTHDUMPSTERS
JUDGE DUMPSTER
SORORITY DUMPSTER
DUMPSTER SCHOOL WITH RICKI LAKE
TABITHA’S DUMPSTER TAKEOVER
PARANORMAL DUMPSTERS
NEWLYWEDS: NICK AND A DUMPSTER
GHOST DUMPSTERERS
ROCK OF DUMPSTERS WITH BRETT MICHAELS
MY FAIR DUMPSTER
BRITNEY AND KEVIN: IN A DUMPSTER
I MARRIED A DUMPSTER
BOILING DUMPSTERS
RU PAUL’S DUMPSTER RACE
DUMPSTER WIVES
JOE DUMPSTER
THE WEAKEST DUMPSTER
LAPD: LIFE IN A DUMPSTER
NAME THAT DUMPSTER
THE AMAZING DUMPSTER
THE DUMPSTER IS RIGHT
LEGENDS OF THE HIDDEN DUMPSTER
DUMPSTER OF FORTUNE
DUMPSTER FEUD
DUMPSTER SQUARES
DUMPSTER TACTICS
AMERICA’S FUNNIEST HOME DUMPSTERS
THE BENEDUMPSTER
DUMPSTERS SAY THE DARNDEST THINGS
BEAUTY AND THE DUMPSTER
TIL DEATH DO US DUMPSTER
FLIPPING DUMPSTER
THE DUMPSTER EXPERIMENT
LAST DUMPSTER STANDING
REAL WORLD/ROAD RULES DUMPSTER
DUMPSTER LOVE’S MONEY
HELL’S DUMPSTER
DUMPSTER QUEENS
E TRUE HOLLYWOOD DUMPSTER
SNAPPED: MOTHERS WHO DUMPSTER

///////////////////////////////////////////////