Category Archives: Uncategorized

Love is in the Air (or at least in stores)

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Dear Kitty Winn

I really enjoy your letters. My problem is my girlfriend. We are having a rough time lately and she expresses her feelings mainly by making fun of me in front of our friends. She calls me “meatball” and quips that my cock is useless. She makes us all laugh, but I wonder if I am laughing my way to singlehood.

-sad clown

Dear Sad

Kitty Winn is awash in roses and does not have time for the sorry dog’s dinner that is your life. It’s Valentines Day! Thank you boys for the scented bath pearls and the petit-fours and ankle bracelets and trails of hershey’s kisses. Its time to uncork the bubbly and read through the perfumed sonnets. Flowers everywhere! How dare anyone court me with their sniffly little foo foo meatball problems!

(we will return tomorrow to our regularly scheduled misery)

-Kitty Winn

Do it for Science!

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Hello boys and girls, Kitty Winn here. You may remember our distraught young writer from yesterday, Pine Fresh. Well, he’s risen to the challenge and provided us with a smorgasboard of personal information. Kitty did have to coax a bit, but we’ve arrived at an intriguing profile. So sit back, enjoy, and prepare to pounce on this tasty morsel!

Kitty Winn: So, give us some basic statistics.

Pine Fresh: Human male. 5’8″, 156 pounds. I’m a guilty white liberal. A yuppie.

KW: Hobbies and interests?

PF: I like art, both creating and looking at it. I enjoy going to see bands or DJs, but I don’t like the club scene so much. When it’s not too cold I like to just wander around the city and try to get lost in a new neighborhood.

KW: Favorite food?

PF: I like sushi, or spicy chinese eggplant.

KW: Favorite sad movie/ favorite funny movie:

PF: For sad, I think you have to go for “Happiness”, and for funny I really like “The Usual Suspects.”

“Oswald was a fag” is such a great line. And “No, give ME the gun, you motherfucking cocksucker.”

KW: Favorite reading material, printed and online:

PF: Books I liked: The Corrections (I know, I know), magazines I read: the New Yorker (for the articles!) and The Economist (for the cartoons!), and websites I like include boingboing.net.

KW: And he also meant to add “Vomitola!” What are you listening to right now?

PF: Public Enemy, “Fear of a Black Planet.”

KW: What makes you a good fling?

PF: I’ll call once or twice, and I’ll get the hint if you aren’t interested!

KW: What makes you a good long term relationship (LTR)?

PF: I listen to and respect my partner. I always make sure the other person is having as good a time as I am.

KW: Come on, let’s give our hopelessly immature readers a treat.

PF: I have nice muscles? I smell nice?

KW: Good enough. Favorite kitchen implement?

PF: Tongs.

KW: Nasty boy!

So there you have it, gentle readers. If you are a comely lass in search of a partner in the greater Boston area, write Kitty with a summary of qualifications, and we’ll see if we can make the first Vomitola.com love connection.

swoon,

-Kitty

Road Trip Wreckage

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This is what you people love to see in a Blog- sleep patterns minutely charted! It was a twelve hour round trip to an opening in a mental hospital, troche and two days later i am still TIRED. Anyhoo, no rx I sold a painting and who knows what else can happen? In the van we drank champagne and there was general rowdiness. After all the jokes about the opening being crawling with lunatics, ailment there were in fact several patients present. They were easy to spot because they were INSANE. One of them cornered me to congratulate me on maintaining a semblance of a productive existence, since it was “obvious” looking at my work that I, too, am a “deeply disturbed person”. I kid you not boys and girls.

Well, even though I am TIRED, I suppose I ought to get back to work in the studio today. After all, there is that facade of living to promote! I must maintain the porous barrier between my present state of being and a shuffling lithium induced stupor (staves off the ranting and construction of tinfoil armies of tiny soldiers). My routine is an eggshell-like veneer concealing emptiness which requires but the slightest pressure to be crushed into gritty shards.

smooch

Playing cupid

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Dear Kitty Winn,

I hate valentine’s day. I keep seeing fun valentiney things to do and then realize I have no plans, and even if I had a date, it wouldn’t be the kind of sincere and loving date that would be worthy of the extravagant valentiney things. When I was dating someone, I hated valentines’ day and was disgusted by all the extravagant gifts that the season demanded I give, and by the whole commercial insincerity of it all.

I know what other singles will be doing. The really cheezy corporate-owned bars in The Alley have a singles flirt-fest where there will be incredibly drunk incredibly lonely people looking to have incredibly awful guilt-wracked fear-of-dying-alone sex with strangers. The various titty bars in town will be full of incredibly drunk, incredibly lonely guys and very distant, mildly disgusted strippers who don’t quite have to think about what they’re doing since they’re coked out of their minds.

But what can a single Boston boy do this friday? I’m a human male with a pulse. Surely someone has lowered their standards enough for me!

-Pine Fresh

Dear Pining,

Human? Male? That’s always been good enough for Kitty! I don’t know what’s wrong with girls these days. Or do you need a boy? You didn’t specify. If it’s boymeat on your mind, there’s always the Ramrod (it’s military gear night!), or Jacque’s.

If it’s females you’re after, I’d stake out Victoria’s Secret. Look for the girl buying sexy undies. And then talk to her less comely friend who’s been dragged along for the ride! Or you could camp out next to florists and the Godiva store, noting who peers in longingly. Because good boyfriends have already sent flowers and candy to work by now, so chances are they’re single. Finally, who says all strippers are coked out of their minds? There are plenty of nice ladies who are strippers. Of course they won’t like you if you have a negative attitude like that! Judge not lest ye be judged, Kitty always says.

Of course that’s a rotten lie. Kitty loves to judge people!

Realistically? Does it have to come to that? I’d suggest going somewhere non-date-y with a group of friends. Scorpion bowls in Chinatown can’t be beat. Scamming on friends of friends is always a good bet anyway. Or I can open up the floor to readers. Provide me with some vital statistics, and maybe we can palm you off on a lucky Vomitola fan!

warm-heartedly yours,

-Kitty

A sensitive problem for a sensitive individual

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Dear Kitty Winn,

Attachments: right.scr, e23132zb24v[1].jpg

-frillysimsATmindspring.com

Dear frillysims,

That was SOME question. I would have to say that obviously I don’t know you very well, but you’d probably want to talk to a doctor sooner than later. I hear there are also some good hotlines for that. You don’t want to risk life-long infertility, now do you? And good lord, think of the cosmetic ramifications!

regards,

-Kitty

Pee Ess: Kitty is using a Mac, you can’t touch her with your zany microsoft scripting, even if she DID open attachments from strangers!

Author, author!

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I hereby enjoin Cara to publish her magnum opus, “Che es signoro Smith?” It’s a rollercoaster of suspense and drama, about a polar bear who disguses himself as an Italian and kills people. Cara worries that her writing peaked in 8th grade. I say “that’s ok, Orson.”

We spent a year of our life working on an epic called “The Possum Waffle Saga.” I hope my mom still has those old Word Perfect files. That was without a GUI, just F-keys. Old School, ya hear? Anyway, TPWS was set in Broadass Creek, West Virginia. It featured Bubba and Lurleen Bippus, a common law married couple who came up with a unique food marketing idea for roadkill. They had wacky adventures with a cast of thousands, including Japanese tourists, Elvis impersonators, and even Punxsutawney Phil. Each chapter was a self-contained episode, except for one cliffhanger surrounding the groundhog. Oh, memories. I think I was 11 and she was 8. Or we might have been younger. It was a big deal to say “ass.”

xxoo

Entertain meeeee

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So while Heather was off having stiff ones forced down her throat, I must have been at the movies. This weekend I saw How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. I expected a candy-coated piece of fluff, but it turned out to be all that and then some! It was entertaining to the nth degree, although don’t think I’m about it review it. Overthinking violates my policy of perpetual amusement! Besides, just like there are those who clean toilets, there are people to write reviews. Like the Times. If you liked Office Space, give this a try. Seriously. It’s the same brand of retardation, with more carbonated pop. Ok, the end was sultifyingly predictable, but such is. There are less fun ways to spend an hour and a half.

Speaking of peppy, a clever reader alerted me to the madcap world of Pokey the Penguin. Love it. Love Pokey.

Now I’ve got to make tracks home through the snow so that I can adequately prepare for the final episode of Joe Millionaire. Every passing day my lust for cheap, thoughtless entertainment grows. I wonder if it’s a new form of depression? Maybe it’s just my patriotic duty. I used to be one of those “oh I don’t have a TV” people, but no more! If I can manage to maintain a trash culture-fueled stupor, I don’t have to think about the REALLY bad things going on. Sometimes if the negative does intrude, I just throw money at the problem! It’s amazing. A well-timed $50 to the humane society or the foodbank really helps the pleasant fog roll back in. (Except never give to WBUR. They’ll hound you every 2 months for the rest of your life. Do I LOOK like I want a tote bag? I finally pretended to be deceased.)

Remember boys n’ girls, thoughtful analysis is for simps! Up with boobies!

xxoo

Off we go!

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If you are ever in East Berlin, cialis you must go to “russian disco”. Its in an old east german bar, the Café Burger, that still has the low ceilings and tacky wallpaper. The music was eastern european- it was like being at a latvian wedding, complete with violins, trombones, and lots of foot stomping. I danced all night long and drinks were poured down my throat. They make a stiff one there, they do.

On saturday I bloody got klezzed! the world is a malicious and awful place, even if you are only sitting in front of your computer. So if anybody gets an email from me with a funny looking attachment, do Not open it, even if it claims to be a picture of my bottom. it was sent by the devil!

Tomorrow I am off early to my opening in Essen in a mini-bus. I have an entourage of seven! and I have bought cookies and juice boxes for all of them! Its a long drive, but i have much to do. I will spend the entire duration applying makeup. and playing travel connect 4. The opening should be very fun and glamorous- I am slowly mastering the art of getting drunk enough to charm people so they want to buy my work, and not so drunk that i puke on their shiny new kenneth coles. There is going to be a cocktail pianist!

smooch

No business like showing your business

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Alert readers may notice that there is now an easier way to reach Kitty Winn. She’s been stamping and snorting about that all along, really put out like. So if you peruse the left side bar, you’ll see an Ask Kitty Winn link. Do avail yourselves of it! She’s still rifling through a hatbox full of 8×10 glossies looking for the perfect author headshot (and hampered mightily by the fact that her head’s not even IN most of them), but the page is a start. Yes, a real port in a storm!

xxoo

where have all the flowers gone?

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Dear Kitty Winn,

I’m a reclusive media figure, and I was recently pilloried in a highly rated television documentary. Barbara Walters kept clucking and saying mean things about me, and then that fat chick who was filling in for the blonde lady on Primetime called me “funny looking!” Kitty, I am at my wit’s end. Years of childhood abuse and blinding fame have rendered me a tragi-comic man-child, and at this point I lack the emotional maturity to defend myself or even see what the hell the big deal is in the first place! Kitty, how do I get these hounds off my back?

-Never had a chance

Dear Never,

Kitty avidly watched your public flogging, pausing only to stuff more Rolos into her pie hole. Kitty’s not sure why she’s referring to herself in the third person either, but it seems like a train one can’t jump off easily. Anyway, beleagured Never, Kitty applauds your parenting decision to raise your children out of sight. More people should do the damn same. Especially the people who shop at the Bread & Circus in Alewife. Right there, you are making a valuable contribution to society as we know it. Perhaps the next step is to apply that sensible ideal to yourself? They do wonders with burqas these days! Never again will anyone twit you about the condition of your nasal passages if they can’t see ’em! Allow Kitty to suggest retiring in style, to a small bunker or other fortified structure. Think of the fun you could have in all your spare time if you didn’t have to dodge the media. Why, there’s the Home Shopping Channel, or one of those “construct-your-own” submarine kits! Or if all else fails, there’s always voodoo, or installing a system of trap doors outside your mansion to swallow up unwanted visitors from Child Protection Services.

Bon Voyage,

-Kitty Winn