Old Friends

I met with my old friend Anh for brunch on Sunday. The first thing she said to me after we hugged was "Don't write about me."

Does not compute. If I know you, I write about you. It's like a basic human truth or something. Kate's Law.

Plus, it's like a dare. Or reverse psychology. Nate would be the first to tell you that the only surefire way of getting me to do something is to forbid me to do it.

And how could I not write about her? I've known her for twenty years—since junior year in high school. We've got backstory. Not to mention that Anh is one of the most fascinating women I know.

We fell out of touch after high school graduation. Fate brought us back together. Seriously. I was walking to work through downtown San Francisco at 6am several years ago when I heard someone shout my name. I turned around and there was this woman in a suit waving at me like crazy. I tripped on my own feet when I realized it was Anh. Not that I was shocked to see her, but that she was wearing a suit. In high school, she sported what I affectionately call hippie leprechaun chic.

Despite the polish, Anh is just like she was twenty years ago. She's still super smart, she still has a strange fascination with silk screening, and she still loses her car. She still laughs with her whole body, and the sound is like hundreds of plump bubbles lifting to the sun.

It's strange getting together with someone who knows a part of your history very few people do. I mean, Anh remembers my four-year old sister toddling around after us. She remembers a teenaged Afra and how the guy at the coffee shop used to always give me free iced cappuccinos. She's still bitter about how I never studied but still aced my classes. And she's not afraid to remind me how I used to cut calculus to get ice cream and how I was the president of the classical music club.

Did I just admit that? Crap.

I wish I had a picture of her—present or past (she looks exactly the same). Since I don't have one, I'll close with this image, which I think suits Anh to a tee. She's dozens of irregularly shaped donut holes drizzled in fine European chocolate, giving you a sugar high that leaves you giggling for hours.

Saturday Mornings of Old

I'm not in the mood to blog. Frankly, I just turned in my revisions today and all I want is to lie around and read something someone else toiled to write.

It's a shame too, because we had a really great conversation about Saturday morning cartoons over dinner on this weekend. Nate and I were at his parents' house along with Carol (a good family friend) and her teenage daughter Kay. It went a little something like this:

Kay: They should come out with a movie starring the Green Lantern. He's seriously underrepresented compared to other superheroes.
Nate: Because he was lame.
Kay: But he had a really cool ring. And a lantern. (pause) Okay, maybe he was a little lame.
Me: Saturday mornings aren't the same without the Justice League.
Nate: I know.
Nate's Mom: I thought you and your brother watched Sesame Street on Saturday mornings.
Nate: No, that's just what we told you we were watching.
Kay: My mom wouldn't let me watch Sesame Street.
Carol: I didn't like the example Bert and Ernie set. They treated each other horribly.
Nate: Bert and Ernie defined my childhood relationship with my brother.
Me: Were you Bert or Ernie?
Nate: Definitely Bert. Though I have always been partial to orange stripes.

See? It would have been great if I had it in me to write it out.

Of course, the conversation was rather incomplete—we didn't even mention School House Rock. How could we have missed SHR?? SHR is the only reason I ever remember the process a bill goes through to get ratified.

The Bugster

The first thing my friend Andrew said to me when he walked into Coffee Bar, the café where we met up to work, was "What's wrong?"

I frowned at him. "What makes you think anything is wrong?"

"You're gripping your head like you're trying to squeeze the ideas out."

"I wish it were that easy."

"Are you working on your revisions?" he asked, sitting down next to me and pulling out his laptop.

"No, I took a break from them to work on the bane of my existence."

"Which is?"

"My blog. I just don't know what to write about." I sighed, deep and heavy. An aspiring playwright, I knew Andrew would appreciate my drama. But right as I was about to sigh again, an idea struck. "Oh! I know what my topic is now."

He leaned over, his eyes lit with curiosity. "What is it this week?"

"I'm going to write about you."

"Me?" His brow furrowed. "Am I interesting enough?"

"You're more interesting than goats, which is what Nate suggested I write about." I pursed my lips. "Do you want people to know that I call you Bugster because of the yellow lensed swimming goggles you wore to protect your eyes after your Lasik surgery?"

"Uh..."

I nodded. "Okay, I'll leave that part out."

Man Ruins Christmas

Tuesday Evening, December 11, 2007 — Unbeknownst to San Francisco resident Kate Perry, Christmas was about to be ruined.

Perry, age undetermined (though she's awfully youthful looking and cute, but fierce) was lying across her bed, reading, when the man (name withheld) walked in and promptly ruined Christmas.

"I knew something was up right away," confessed Perry. "He was too cheery. And then when he said 'Love, I bought myself an early Christmas present' I just knew what he'd done. He'd bought himself an Ipod Touch—just like the Ipod Touch I'd already bought him. Sure enough, that's exactly how it went down."

"I had no clue," the man said according to police reports. "I'd been wanting one, but I had no idea anyone would get it for me. It wasn't even on my Christmas list! But the second I told Kate I knew I'd messed up. Her disappointed puppy look will haunt me forever."

The man's neighbors never suspected he'd be capable of such a thing. "He looked like such a nice man," one told reporters. "I would never have thought him capable of doing such a thing. You just never know."

Close friend of the victim Katie Salvage said, "I always knew he had this in him. It's in his eyes."

The victim's sister Parisa Zolfaghari was still baffled by the turn of events. "I was going in on this gift too. I can't believe he'd do this. It's just wrong."

When asked what she was going to do now, Perry replied, "I don't know. I mean, the only other things on his Christmas list are world peace and a $4k TV, and I'm not sure I can pull off world peace by next week."

The man in question was also at a loss. "I think it's safe to say I'm getting coal this year."