katster's closet

Stolen from mactavish, although I added the response comments:

What Katrina looks like according to google:

Katrina looks like a 6 week fetus? (Umm, I was once, but I'm not now.)
Katrina looks like bad news. (That's me. Bad news.)
Katrina looks like a brush clearing vehicle going down the street. (Okay, let's keep the insults down to a minimum.)
Katrina looks like a nightmare. (That's right, baby. I'm the one your momma warned you about.)
Katrina looks like everyone wants to cut Amy some slack. (Then cut Amy some slack. Do I look like I'm in charge of the universe here?)
Katrina looks like she's fighting. (That's me, the fighting Katrina.)
Katrina looks like me. (And what do you look like? Maybe I should ask Google.)

...you know, it's really fun to try this after there's been a really major hurricane that shares a name with you... ;)

How about Kat? what does Kat look like?

Kat looks like one bad motor scooter. (Uh, thanks, I think.)
Kat looks like a normal person. (Ah, this is why I got the "Disguised like a Mundane" ribbon at Westercon.)
Kat looks like a brown box. (Oh no, you've got it all wrong. I'm actually a black box.)
Kat looks like quite an able guitar player. (You haven't heard me play the guitar.)
Kat looks like sh*t. (It was a bad day, okay?)
Kat looks like a lit up christmas tree in that ugly golden "dress". (And this, folks, is why I do not wear dresses.)
Kat looks like donatella versace. (Uh, who?)
Kat looks like she is coping. (Good to see that it's obvious)
I finally figured out who Kat looks like to me. (Do tell?)
Kat looks like a native american princess. (Well, I am part native american, but I don't think I'm a princess...)

I was given this secret message in code by macklinr. When I had it decoded, it read:

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment with a completely made up and fictional memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad -- but it has to be fake.Of course, only do this if you want to play. When you're finished,consider posting this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people don't actually remember about you.

Have fun. ;)

(from murphymom, who got it from lolleeroberts)

Describe me in one word.... just one word. Comment to me and then post this message to your LJ and see how many strange things people say about you.

(I got it from eleri, she got it from jb98. ...unfortunately, we're not entirely sure who it was that gave it to him...)

You, $Reader, have been given the opportunity to go back in time ten (10) years and tell yourself three (3) things.

What are they?


( So many things... )

...yeah, it's more than three, but I've done a lot. Anybody else?

Seen all over LJ, but most notably zibblsnrt

When you see this, post an anti-war song in your journal.

I Was Only 19 (A Walk in the Light Green)
Redgum

Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing out parade at Puckapunyal,
(It was long march from cadets).
The Sixth Battalion was the next to tour and it was me who drew the card…
We did Canungra and Shoalwater before we left.

And Townsville lined the footpath as we marched down to the quay;
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean;
And there's me in my slouch hat, with my SLR and greens…
God help me, I was only nineteen.

From Vung Tau riding Chinooks to the dust at Nui Dat,
I'd been in and out of choppers now for months.
But we made our tents a home, VB and pin-ups on the lockers,
and an Asian orange sunset through the scrub.

And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And night time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen.

A four week operation, when each step could mean your last one on two legs:
it was a war within yourself.
But you wouldn't let your mates down 'til they had you dusted off,
so you closed your eyes and thought about something else.

Then someone yelled out "Contact"', and the bloke behind me swore.
We hooked in there for hours, then a God almighty roar;
Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon: -
God help me, he was going home in June.

I can still see Frankie, drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel
on a thirty-six hour rec. leave in Vung Tau.
And I can still hear Frankie lying screaming in the jungle.
'Till the morphine came and killed the bloody row

And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears,
and stories that my father told me never seemed quite real
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel…
God help me, I was only nineteen.

And can you tell me, doctor, why I still can't get to sleep?
And why the Channel Seven chopper chills me to my feet?
And what's this rash that comes and goes, can you tell me what it means?
God help me,
I was only nineteen.

(It's said that this song is what got Australians to remember and recognize its own Vietnam vets. I just fell in love with the song from the moment I heard it, because even those who come back will be damaged by the experience. There is no such thing as an easy war. The song is here if you'd like to hear it.)