I want to QUIT the bank

One day, in early January when cars were still sliding off the road because of the near zero degree temperatures, I opened my bank statement and was once again thoroughly displeased with my bank. I had broken yet another rule and it was going to cost me. I am not against breaking rules, on the contrary, when I know about certain rules I make a point of breaking them. I climbed onto my high school’s roof and played violin just minutes after the final bell of the school year rang so I could ask the principle, “What are you going to do? Suspend me?” I do prefer to know about the rule before I break it. I also prefer not to get caught breaking rules when it will cost me money. Getting caught speeding or anything else that will get me a ticket is entirely out of the question. I only break rules that will get me in trouble not cost me money. That money belongs to me and while I have never been very responsible with it I am not going to just give it away to satisfy my own need to rebel against the system.

            I strolled into the local branch of my bank in the same manner that I believe I always stroll but it might have been a good deal more forceful because I was already irritated. “Hello, I’d like to close my account,” I announced to the teller. This was not the first time I had tried to close my account but while I rarely shrink away from an argument I do not care for a time consuming one. I had decided that I wanted to quit the bank and that was all that was to, I just had to convince the bank it was in their best interest as well.

            “All right,” the teller gestured toward one of the empty desks in the lobby. “You will have to talk to one of our personal bankers. Just have a seat and they will fetch you.” Fetch me? Is the personal banker a Golden Retriever? I found the idea of a golden retriever as a personal banker both amusing and insulting. How could a dog be better at math than I am? I thought about it for a few minutes and decided that it was very possible for a dog to be better at math than I am. I took a seat.

            The bank teller was not a Golden Retriever. I was very disappointed. A dog would have been much nicer to deal with.

            “How can I help you?”

            “I would like to close my account.”

            She looked shocked, as if it was entirely unbelievable that someone could possibly be unhappy with the soulless conglomerate she worked for. “Have you thought this through,” she asked, “how will you cash checks?” I considered telling her that no one gives me checks anymore just cash, which I spend with unbridled speed.

            “I already have another savings account that I can use for that.”

            She made a sound that sounded a little like “fine” and started typing on her computer. Next she asked several personal and penetrating questions like what my account number was and my reason for leaving the bank. In this world everyone has to have a reason for everything whether it is not wanting a certain kind of meat with their meal or leaving a bank you have to have a reason.

            “Because…” I started then stopped realizing that the answer I think you are a soul sucking organization and I don’t care for your rules would be the kind of answer they wanted. “Because….” There was no suitable answer that would not hurt the banks feelings; at least there was no answer that I could think of. “I WANT TO QUIT THE BANK!” The Golden Retriever looked like she had eaten a pie that was filled with salt instead of sugar. She typed something onto her computer.

            I assume that she would have continued questioning me until I gave up trying to close my account. I knew that from experience. Fortunately I had planned for this eventuality. The personal banker looked at the screen. Her eyes widened but they did not get nearly as wide as saucers, like people enjoy saying. “Okay, we’ll close your account for you.” She forced a smile.

            “If you don’t mind, what is my ending balance?” I knew it was low. It was low on purpose. I had actually brought several dollars with me in case I had overdrawn.

            “Three cents.” She stood up and left to fetch my three pennies.


Equal Duckets for Equal Dudes!



Allow me to tell you a tale about some of the most appalling human rights violations in this country which I have personally witnessed. Okay, maybe they are not human right violations… okay they’re not rights violations at all but if you would just let me tell my story you’ll understand what I’m talking about. 

During the summer of 2012 I went to visit my friend Erin who I had not seen since she had gotten married almost a year earlier. The trip itself was not that big of a deal because at that point I had squandered all of my money on getting an education and moved back into my parents home which is located in the same town Erin lives in. When making the arrangements I told her I would bring her a latte when I came over, stupidly thinking that, even though I now live in Utah, the Starbucks in my town would still be there. I don’t know why I thought that because it turns out that Starbucks has been gone since I was a sophomore in college. 


I was extremely disappointed but I pressed on in search of a place where I could buy our rich, caffeine filled, lattes. I drove down Main Street (well Antelope but I don’t think most of you know where that is and it is like Main Street) until I saw a “suitable” coffee shop. With a few minutes to spare before I was extremely late to meet Erin I marched into a place called Madbrook’s and ordered two grande mochas, each with an extra shot. Then I waited. I hate waiting. What happened next told me how wrong I was thinking that Madbrook’s was a suitable coffee shop.

The barista (that is a girl coffee making person, I like to call the boy one baristers) went over to the giant espresso machine and picked up two of the largest coffee cups I have ever seen, and I’m the girl who once went into a coffee shop and ordered a coffee the size of my face (that is literally how I asked for it, “I want a coffee the size of my face.”). Surely those are for some other order after all weren’t there other people waiting in the coffee/donut shop. Then after another minute or two the barista set the two large cups on the counter. called my name, and said to me “here are your two large mochas with 5 shots each.”


I am from Washington state, where coffee reigns supreme, and when I tried to order a coffee with five shots of espresso they questioned me. “I cannot give you that, you will die.” I was stunned. I could not believe that the barista would have thought I wanted that. Even when I am not at Starbucks (in America) I should be able to order a coffee in Starbucks terms and get what I want. I picked up the coffees and wandered back to my car only to be confronted by the fact that the behemoths did not fit in my cup holders. I have not been back. Unfortunately that is the closet coffee shop to my house and sometimes I just want I nice mocha or latte or caramel machiato. 

After that day I went on a quest to find the local coffee shops, especially the nearest Starbucks. Unlike in Washington there are no cute little places where students go to study and budding young writers go to drink their characters into submission. 



Of course there aren’t, this is Utah where caffeine is evil, those who drink it are sinners, and those who peddle it are going to hell for all eternity. I cannot even buy Tully’s espresso  in a package in the grocery store. The only espresso blends to be found in the stores are Starbucks and they cost nearly twice as much as they do in other parts of the country, presumably because they have to be blessed and inspected by the Mormon Prophet before  entering the state. I finally did find the nearest Starbucks. I have to drive through two towns to get to it but it is there.

So why do I think this is a human right violation? Well I don’t, I thought we already established that. I do, however, think that it is not right and unfair that the Mormon culture here thinks it can force me to adhere to its rules. it makes me want to walk into every Ward on the street, there are quite a few, and say, “you know what this place needs? An espresso bar.” I really just want to do that to piss people off which is easy and fun. I think that if iPhone 5 commercials can say that I have “the right” to unlimited data then in this day and age I have the right to a nearby coffee shop which is something the culture in Utah has deprived me of.

How dare they?

I say if they are allowed to have a scrapbooking store and a store specifically designed to outfit their little baby missionaries every thirty feet then there should be more Starbucks around and they should learn how to make coffee properly because honestly, that giant cup of coffee I drank way back in September (with the five shots of espresso that I thought might kill me) tasted like sewer water (no offense intended to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles who live in a sewer).

I say Equal Duckets for Equal Dudes! The dirty looks I get for drinking coffee (which I have gotten) and lack of access to things I want to buy just because the predominant religion says they are bad (I can’t even buy a drink at a restauraunt without also ordering food, and even then it is not going to have the same amount of alcohol it would in any other state) are unacceptable and akin to the Islamic men in London harassing women for wearing short skirts when they walk through a predominantly Islamic area. I will not be told what to do.

Sorry if I offended anyone with this post that was not the intent I am merely pointing out a major cultural flaw in Utah and one of the many reasons I wish I did not live here.


I approved this blog post.



If you do this I probably hate you

There are certain things people do that make me feel a pure, white hot, hatred for them. You can’t really blame me for it, it’s my brain chemistry. My brain chemistry tells me that people who do certain things deserve to be hated. I hate people who deserve to be hated and that is the way the world works. So here is a list of things that you may or may not do that make me hate you.

1) Fangirling.

(derogatory) a female fan, obsessed with something (or someone) to a frightening or sickening degree. Often considered ditzy, annoying and shallow.

Now I am not saying that it is bad to be a fan of something. I am saying that girls who run around obsessing about things like One Direction are terrible. They are the grown up version of ten year olds who thought they were going to marry Nick from the Backstreet Boys (I think Nick was a Backstreet boy, I’m not really sure, I was never a fangirl. It is not that I hate people who do fangirl (weirdest verb I have ever used) I have lots of friends who have been known to obsess over actors but if that is all I ever see you do then there is a problem because I that means that is all you do in public. Therefore I hate you but only a little.

2) Stopping inside traffic circles. 

NEVER STOP IN A TRAFFIC CIRCLE! If you make me brake in a traffic circle then you have no business driving a car because that is not how traffic circles work. I think that everyone has to know the rules of the road in order to drive even the obscure rules like sopping in a traffic circle.

3) Insulting Mr. Feeny

Okay in everyone’s defense I have only heard one person insult the “Boy Meets World” staple character Mr Feeny and that was when they were debating pop-culture. We do NOT insult Mr. Feeny! (If you don’t know who that is then go on Youtube all the episodes are there please educate yourselves. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NmFbTMyDA2U )

“Boy Meets World” was a wonderful and fantastic show that taught kids something. I literally cry at the end of most episodes. Mr. Feeny is one of the main reasons the show was grand. He shows people that it is okay to have a good relationship with your teachers and that it is okay to learn things. If you insult Mr. Feeny you officially give me the right to hit you the business end of my jeep (the same goes for stopping in traffic circles), every end of the jeep is the business end. 

4) Reading/Defending “Twilight”

I know I have harped on “Twilight” a lot ever since it became a thing but I think I have a right to make fun of things that are awful. I studied literature and writing and therefore know things about what is good and if you try to defend “Twilight” all you do is prove that you have no taste at all and cannot recognize an emotionally abusive relationship. Secondly I would like to know when romance novels  became best sellers? I would also like to know when teenage girls, and those with the mental capacity of teenage girls, became the target audience of the world. Why are there no books written for boys between sixth grade and 38? I have been through the young adult section of book stores and I know this is true. It skips from from Percy Jackson and the Olympians up to Game of Thrones. 

I went off on a little tangent there but the moral of the story is that if you defend “Twilight” then I probably hate you.


This is my cat RazelImage

She is not a ninja. Actually she is about as far from being a ninja as a cat can get. All but two rooms in my house are hard, either tile or wood, and when Razel walks around her claws click and clack on the tiles. She never quite got the hang of walking with her claws fully retracted. Razel is also loud. If I leave her outside for too long I can hear her lion roar volumed meow from anywhere inside the house (I’ve always had a gift for the hyperbolic). 

A few nights ago I went to bed and started reading, fully expecting to see Razel or hear the click clack of her claws coming into my room a few minutes later but did not. Instead I shut off my lamp a few minutes before midnight and realized “I have not seen Razel since noon.” That is nearly 12 hours. I thought to myself I must have put her outside. Then had an image in my head of her frozen to death sitting by the garage door (also a gift for panic) it was many degrees below freezing. 

So I got up and rushed out to the garage (barefoot when it was below 0 degrees f) and searched the garage. Next I put on some boots, without any socks, and ran around in the snow searching for my poor poor cat who must be so cold out in the winter. I ran around like that for a very long time until I was fully cold and had a lot of snow in my boots (I had already checked everywhere inside the house before doing all this). Razel was nowhere to be found and I was so sad. 

Finally I was too cold and went inside. About two minutes after reentering the house my cat reappeared at the top of the stairs. “What are you doing here?” the more important question was “how have you been hiding for twelve hours when I searched the entire house?” So I am left with two options. 

1) Razel actually is a ninja and tries to hide it by being loud all the rest of the time


2) There is a secret hole in the wall where Razel has a tv and a big couch but no food or water because every time she returns Razel drinks an entire bowl of water.

Well that was a boring story. I hope you all enjoyed my suffering. 

Book Ends

As it turns out I’m kind of a nerd, I like good literature, science fiction, super heroes, and the like (those of you who have not been able to figure this out from previous blog posts, or knowing me, are officially banned from the planet; I’m allergic to stupidity and you are contributing to my symptoms). Being a nerd, especially a book nerd, I have a ton of books and therefore have needed bookends for several years now. Proper bookends are not the kind of thing you just buy. You cannot go into a bookend store and just find the right book ends. That is something that is going to go on your shelf next your books and whatever other precious things you keep on your bookshelf. So every time I go into a bookstore or furniture store I look for “the right” bookends (I’m telling you it is more difficult to find bookends that fit your personality than it is to find a soulmate, I assume). And I have found a couple of good bookends that would have worked. There was the daschund bookend that reminded me of my dog Lightning…



… and the Lord of the Rings bookends. I even saw once a dragon and dragon slayer bookends. None of them were quite right though, the dragon slayer was male, the daschund was a long hair (Lightning had short hair), and the Lord of the Rings one cost a million dollars. All major problems for me I these book ends are going to go next to my Chronicles of Narnia collection, reading lamp, and other precious things. They have to be perfect and less than a million dollars because they just have to be. 

A few days ago I was at Hobby Lobby and found several giant chess pieces in red and black that were three dollars each. They were roughly paperback sized wooden figurines but I thought they were pretty cool. I would have bought them all and made a giant chess set but they only had three pawns and I am not much of a chess player so that would have been useless anyway (plus the label said they were not meant to be used as a toy and games, even the game of kings fall into the “toy” column). I am also not a king so what would I have done with a giant game of kings (or thrones)?

Look at me…


I am definitely not a king.

But there were two castles. One in black and one in red and a little light bulb went off in my head and at the exact same time my conscience (Jimminey Cricket) sitting on my shoulder said “Those would be awesome bookends.”

They were in the colors of my college (which are also some of my favorite colors to wear because they look fantastic on me) and they castles! So it is like a chess piece and a castle all at the same time. Perfect! I bought them because I am impulsive and irresponsible with my money and used them to make a pair of bookends. 

Sorry there are no pictures of them yet because I lost my camera charger and am waiting for my new one to arrive from amazon which may or may not ever happen. 

I took a couple of old metal bookends from the 80’s that are not meant for looks just to hold up your books and spray painted one black and one right. In a twist of fate I paired the now black bookend with the red castle by super gluing them together. It turned out so beautifully I had to continue! I super glued the black castle to the red bookend. Smart thinking right? I thought so. Once they were dry I placed them on my shelf with some books and the quest was officially over. That is pretty much the most exciting that has happened in my life in the last 2 months. ENJOY!

On an unrelated note an ad for Christian Mingle just came on tv and I want to tell all of you that if I cannot meet people organically I do not deserve to have friends. Consider and discuss.

I will never be an atronaut

I love Science Fiction and Fantasy. I suppose that statement is a little obvious seeing as my facebook username has Rocketship in it and a third of the people I know refer to me as Katie Noble Dragon Slayer. Here’s the thing I know that I will never go to middle earth and meet any elves or things like that and after several forays into my wardrobe at at school has led me to believe that Narnia is not located there (I never did check the storage closet). So it would seem my only option is to go into space and fight robots or Klingon or giant spiders on Clendathu but I will never do that either because I will never be an astronaut. It’s not because I have poor enough eyesight that I will never be a navy fighter pilot and it is not because I probably will never be in good enough shape for that nonsense. Those are valid reasons but they are not THE reason.

I will never be an astronaut because I am irrationally afraid of outer space. Think about it. Space is terrifying. There is no air.

I guess that means my only option is to fight Terminators in a post apocalyptic world.