Katie Herrmann

So here's my MySpace pic from 2006/07. When I was 20. My assymetrical bob screams aspiring Karen. Those brows? It's 2006, honey. And that eye liner? I might have a secret shitty tattoo, but I'm not telling.

This one is more true-to-form. Me during a shift at Home Depot in 2006. With a line of Spartan Cheerleaders. There to watch the Fire Department cut a car in half with power tools.

I know the exact right amount about Dickens: Enough to make an "a tale of one City" joke that killed when I worked for a City Attorney; and Enough to associate "artful dodger" with this image of a dog stealing hot dogs from a street vendor while Billy Joel sings "why should I worry?"

Perfect day: I wake up in a room full of golden retriever puppies. The rest doesn't even matter.

Woke up at a weird time in a weird way because of weird sleep things. Wandered to the kitchen, saw the time "3:33am" and my beautiful, ridiculous brain did *this* to me: Brain: 3:33? The Witching Hour! Pretend you didn't see this Wait until it says 3:34 No, not yet! Avert your eyes, fool!

🤞Special place to organize stacks of coins in the console

"I like to really lean into a shitty day by singing a bad song," said my rideshare driver, after drummimg out part of the instrumental break from "Iris," by the Goo Goo Dolls on his dashboard. Wisdom. Respect.

The point at which "brief" and "courtesy copy" both become misnomers. That's one beefy brief. We've been busy.

Why do I keep getting political texts intended for my mom (calling me "Linda") and how do I hold Linda accountable for what she's done.

Having REM Sleep Behavior Disorder is like turning into the drunk girl at the party that everyone needs to keep an eye on every night but without having had any fun.

I'd like to say I destroyed the nightstand by force. But it was just a close call that made me realize sharp corners nearby are a luxury I can't currently afford.

Having REM Sleep Behavior Disorder is like turning into the drunk girl at the party that everyone needs to keep an eye on every night but without having had any fun.

Unexpected convo re physics with my doctor today: Doctor: You could even go through a window in your sleep. Me: Oh, we close and lock our windows. Doctor: Yeah. Well. Not to be alarmist, but I mean *through* a window. The glass. Me: Oh. . . . Like Chuck Norris.

Me: I didn't know I had it in me. That's almost flattering. Doctor: Like I said, any human could go through a window. ...Depending on the window.

Unexpected convo re physics with my doctor today: Doctor: You could even go through a window in your sleep. Me: Oh, we close and lock our windows. Doctor: Yeah. Well. Not to be alarmist, but I mean *through* a window. The glass. Me: Oh. . . . Like Chuck Norris.

Having somehow been conned into seeing most of the Resident Evil movies over the past 25 years while knowing nothing about the video game . . . this one absolutely owns.

In its last act of defiance, while lugging the ancient inkjet printer that has ruined my life for weeks out of our home, an ink cartridge exploded all over my hands. I look like my bank robbery just got foiled by a clever teller. My fingernails are going to be cyan for a week.

I'd say "how embarassing," but I'm accident prone and this is par for the course. I once had to have silver nitrate put in my nose (to cauterize, for frequent nosebleeds). I sneezed right after they did it, as they were telling me not to. I'll let you use your imagination.