The Latest

Apr 17, 2014 / 11 notes

On Childhood, Precociousness, Pie and Oak Trees

I regrettably realize that I was far more interesting as a child. I think that this is probably the case with many people, but certainly for myself. There is a very precious period of time in a young person’s life when they are old enough to begin thinking independently and form their own unique personality.  It is a period of development (ideally) unhindered by adult worries, or self-consciousness, and is fueled primarily by curiosity, instinct and joy.

During my “Intellectual Awakening” I was fat and pretty weird. Not weird in the way that is currently cool. It was more like the slightly greasy, oblivious, and overly imaginative kind of weird. I thankfully still lacked self awareness and was unabashedly happy consuming large bowls of pie and ice cream, reading books, putting on backyard variety shows for no one in particular, pretending to be Nancy Drew and publishing my quarterly neighborhood newsletters.

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That’s right, neighborhood newsletters. To be fair, the Sequoia Subscription was less of a newsletter and more of a stapled pamphlet highlighting little bits of largely fabricated neighborhood gossip, nonsensical doodles, fake ads and whatever writing piece that I had recently composed for school. The inspiration for the Subscription came when my family purchased our first computer. I saw an opportunity to really make a difference in our little community.

When I wasn’t news papering, I would spend hours in our tiny back yard, which my mother had named the Secret Garden (adorable, I know), with a book and a stack of snacks. Two tall oak trees flanked the garden; their branches almost completely covered the space like a canopy. I loved it.

I remember very distinctly the day my parents broke the news: our hideous old lady neighbor was forcing us to cut down at least one of these beautiful trees.  She claimed that their roots were disrupting her driveway, and she would sue if we didn’t comply.

I had never seen such injustice. I always knew there was something fishy about this woman, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what exactly. Now it was crystal clear: Penny was tree killer. A ruthless, cold hearted killer and she was gunning for our precious oak. Such a villain needed to be stopped.

Time was of the essence and I needed to take swift action, so I turned to the Sequoia Subscription to help disseminate news about the forthcoming slaughter with an emergency bulletin.

My piece ran something like this:

“She who will not be named but lives at 430 Sequoia has taken it upon herself to destroy the Stoll family’s precious Oak – an ancient home to squirrels and birds alike. If you are a supporter of trees, please join me in a protest next Saturday morning in the family’s secret garden.”

I was set on rallying the neighborhood and chaining myself to the trunk, declaring that they would need to, “get through me to get to that tree.” You know, just like they do on TV and stuff.

Yet on that fateful Saturday, no protestors showed up; my brothers slept in and I don’t even think that my father was there.  It was just me and our family’s golden retriever Sam.

I had made Sam a sign to wear around her neck, and myself a shirt reading, “Save the Tree!” We looked great, but despite my best efforts, the landscapers embarrassedly avoided my eyes and went about their business. I couldn’t watch. I ran inside vowing that I wouldn’t be able to eat for a week.

That night there came a knock at our back door. It was Penny, she was sobbing and smelled of booze. It seems that while my efforts had done little to stop the course of action, they had sent Penny into a drunken tailspin.

My parents awkwardly listened as she apologized, but our sympathy didn’t last long because after she was done begging our forgiveness, she proceeded to ask my mother’s advice on how to approach the Williams’ regarding their intrusive Willow.

It seems that the Willow was clogging her rain gutters with it’s leaves. Yep. No doubt about it. Penny really was a tree killer! She literally couldn’t stand trees. And by proxy, that must mean she couldn’t stand oxygen or shade or rings that tell you how old you are or really anything good! She was evil and I had my proof. I figured it would be best if we just took her out of the equation right there before she got her murderous hands on another family’s foliage. I prepared for battle

But my Mom! My sweet, patient Mom. Who always handles tough situations gracefully and with strength simply laughed and said, “Oh, leave it alone Penny, please! There are better things to worry about in life than encroaching trees.”

And she was right. It was so clear and so true, there are better things to worry about in life, and there are better enemies than lonely old women. Standing there, eavesdropping for the staircase, I had a personal breakthrough. For the first time I realized that what was done was done, and I suddenly felt remorse for how I had made this sad lady feel. It was time to let go and move on. 

When I look back at this situation, I am amazed by childhood resilience. When you are young, moving on and letting go is such an easy task. A quick, instinctual decision then the ability to quickly forget, forgo ego and adapt to new situations. I wish that was a skill I had carried with me into adulthood.

Mar 30, 2014 / 17 notes

A Must Read on Earthquake Safety!

So if you live in Southern California (or are friends with any Southern Californians on any social media outlet) I assume you are aware that we have been experiencing a slew of seismic activity lately. None of the quakes thus far have been too intense, but it has served as a sobering reminder that the big one IS coming…and there really is no excuse for us to be unprepared. 

I have spent the past few days collecting items for our Earthquake Emergency Kit and as a native Californian who has gone through a few quakes already, I thought I would share my personal list so that you too can be prepared. 

Take a look and let me know if you think anything is missing!

Multivitamins This is an essential. You have no idea what kind of atmospheric damage your body will be enduring, so plan ahead and keep it healthy! Your body needs a lot of vitamins but you don’t want a bunch of pill bottles rattling around. Do yourself a favor and find a good multi. Trust me, you’ll need the space in your bag ;).

First Aid Kit This one is a no brainer. No emergency bag would be complete with out a first aid kit for your pet. Dogs are stupid and can’t take care of themselves. Plan ahead so you don’t have to make any tough decisions that you will regret in non emergency circumstances. 

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Make up It might be the end of days but that isn’t an excuse not to look your best. Plan ahead. Stock up on the makeup that makes you feel your prettiest and make sure you have enough to last at least 3 months. No need to go crazy, just some foundation, liner, blush, bronzer, mascara and maybe high definition powder. Also make sure to pack cleansing towels and dry shampoo. Don’t waste precious water staying clean, that would be irresponsible. Also, sunscreen is a MUST! Wrinkles are gross. 

Underwear I don’t know about you, but my very worst fear is running out in the middle of the night, stranded without a bra and underwear. So plan ahead! Pack a few panty changes, and make it something pretty. Just because society is in chaos doesn’t mean you can’t hook up. 

Pre Planned Outfits Along those same lines you should probably pack a few changes of clothes. Plan ahead! I would suggest really thinking about how you want to BRAND yourself post earthquake. This is important. Personally, I have opted for looks that say, “one bad bitch” so that no one will mess with me, but that is just one route you can take. Have fun with this! It is your future. 

Candy If you do nothing else do THIS. If you think that convenience stores will be open you are a fool on a fool’s errand. I suggest you pick up fruity based candy, such as Starbursts or Airheads, since chocolate stands a chance of melting (plus - more vitamins! Fruit is good for you) but if your kit MUST include chocolate, make it something cheap. Only foolish people waste their money on chocolate.

Emergency Mix Music is the best. You don’t want to be the guy making his Emergency Playlist during the quake, so plan ahead! My list is called the “ApocaPlaylist” but other options include, “The ApocaList” or “Party Like the Earth’s Shakin”.  Anything upbeat is a solid choice, but you can’t go wrong with music that is melancholy and reflective (Coldplay??) considering the circumstances. I would suggest avoiding anything too “anti-establishment” if you don’t want to ruffle feathers.

Also, If you have one, def pack a Guitar or Ukelele. Everyone loves the guy who brings a guitar to the party, so bring a guitar to the party. That cutie in the camp site next to yours is sure to be vibin’.

Megaphone If you are like me, you are going to be at a loss as to what to do with yourself while Twitter is down. Plan ahead. Might I suggest investing in a megaphone? That is the way our parents communicated and shared links before they had technology, and if it was good enough for them it should be good enough for us when every other option is broken. 

Ok, so that’s what is in my bag! What do you have in your emergency kit?

<3 Katy 

Mar 14, 2014 / 2 notes

Throughout my last night at SXSW I was coming up with reasons to cross behind this one news crew that was interviewing people on the street. I must have done it like 20 times. Turns out the “news crew” was from Jimmy Kimmel. Too bad they didn’t catch on to my bit during their bit.

Check out Cody Johnston and I at the 4:30 mark for one of our ongoing plot lines “Oh there you are, where are our friends? I think they are over here!” 

http://splitsider.com/2014/03/jimmy-kimmel-catches-a-bunch-of-sxsw-music-fans-in-their-web-of-lies/

Mar 4, 2014 / 7 notes

Today is the worst day in the history of worst days and here is why

Today is the very worst day in the history of worst days and it SHOULD have been great
Here is the down low.  I have ADD and am always losing my ID. I had an early call time, so I put my ID in my car last night so I would be good to head out to the studio without worry.

This morning, can’t find my car keys. Panic panic where did I put them. End up needing to take Cody’s car so I can at least make it to set on time. Sweet talk my way into the studio with some credit cards and a smile.

They give me a break and say come back to set at 3;30 since my scenes are bookending the day. Great. I can go find my car keys and return Cody’s car. Except now Cody’s car wont turn on. IT WONT TURN ON. Doesn’t seem to be the battery. It SEEMS like his automatic car key is dead, but hey. Cody can’t find his spare key.

And I can’t call AAA, can I. Because I don’t drive this car. And it is parked in a secured lot. So instead I call an Uber. Get the most pompous self promoting chatty Cathy driver. Come back home. Still no Katy Keys to be found.

HEY INTERNET HAVE YOU SEEN MY KEYS? ALSO HAVE YOU SEEN CODY’S CAR KEY? ALSO WHY WONT HIS CAR START? ALSO THIS IS BAD RIGHT NOW BUT I THINK IT WILL BE REALLY FUNNY WHEN IT IS OVER.

EDIT also I left my phone charger in my trailer and am 4% so THERE IS ALSO THAT

Jan 20, 2014 / 9 notes

Why I Hate Yoga

I know I should, like, LOVE yoga. It is exactly the kind of workout an athletic, vegetarian, hooky-booky gal living in LA should be into. But I am not. I try and I try and I try and I do not love it, I actively dislike it. I find yoga frustrating. Whenever I begin a class I immediately feel like running out the door. Most of my yoga experiences are at least partially spent calculating how many people would notice if I quietly gathered my things and snuck out the back (the answer is always “everyone” which is the only reason I haven’t done it yet).

So what is it about yoga that makes me want to crawl out of my skin and run the second someone lovingly tells me to go into, “downward facing dog”? 

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I mean it looks dumb, right?

1) First of all, holding the uncomfortable poses makes me SO anxious. This is definitely not the intention. Yoga does not solve my anxiety, it makes it worse.All that focus on breathing and internal balance makes my skin crawl. I start to panic. At least in Bar Method or Pilates we are always moving and I don’t have time to really sink in and dwell on the fact that I am hating every second of the experience

2) My feet are unnaturally sweaty. I find yoga and most barefoot activities uncomfortable because my feet get excessively sweaty. This has been a lifelong affliction resulting in deep-seeded insecurities and physical ramifications (as a child I had many twisted ankles due to sweating right out of my little sandals) (this is why you’ve probably never seen me wearing sandals) (also sandals are dumb). It is a whole thing. As hard as it is for everyone else, it is extra difficult for me to hold poses, because 10 minutes into class my yoga mat turns into a slip n’ slide. 

3) Shavasana- This is the part of class (usually at the beginning and end) where you lay on your back and breathe. It is meditative and intended to be a calming, focused moment where you connect with your body and intentions. However, the second someone tells me to lay quietly on my back and empty my thoughts, my mind is all like, “Fuck that! Hey Katy. Katy. Katy. You are a dummy. D-U-M-M-Y. You call this working out? WELL GOOD LUCK hahahaha. Ug I need to get the fuck out of here. Did you notice there is a Yogurtland next door to this place? Yes, I did notice that. If we leave now while everyone has their stupid eyes closed, no one will notice.”

4) Everyone is so gassy! Seriously. I don’t know what it is, either it’s the “detoxifying” effect of all the twisty relaxing poses, or it’s the fibrous plant-based yogi diet all these Beverly Hills Lady Types are eating. Whatever it is, for some reason, at least 3 times a class the yoga instructor will be telling you to, “breathe deep,” and some gal will just let one rip! With her butt in the air and everything!

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Just like my dog does it. 

I can’t help but find it hilarious and disgusting and completely disruptive when this happens. I will feel guilty and embarrassed for laughing, at which point I go back to thinking about leaving. Then I feel guilty for wanting to leave and THEN I realize that I am doing a different side from everyone else and I can’t remember if I ever even switched halfway through.

5)  When I open up my hip flexors, I bawl. This one isn’t exclusive to yoga, but yoga is the only activity that basically guarantees a nice deep pigeon stretch. Something about a good hip flexor stretch surrounded by soft candles and maybe low music (or a Tibetan singing bowl!) makes me uber contemplative and emotional. And I know I am not the only one. I have left many yoga studios in the company of suspiciously bright eyed women and men nodding to each other in silent recognition of a particularly intense final stretch.

You might say, “but isn’t that a good thing?” and to THAT I say no way. I cry enough as is, like daily. I want my workout to make me happy and endorphinated* NOT a weepy POS sad sack.

Which brings me back to my very first reason, yoga does not solve my anxiety. It does not make me calm.  Sad, panicky, slippery, farty; these are the actual things yoga makes me feel.  Everyone tells me to, “work out those emotions on the mat,” but that is hard when I hate the mat so very much. I mean, trust me - I wish I loved the practice enough to actually practice it. I want to be a part of this club and reap its life changing benefits. So that is what I intend to do. If I am feeling this much resistance it must be something that I need to focus on, right? I am determined to tap into whatever it is that people find so appealing about the experience. I will continue going (uuuug) and I will master this. Or my class series will expire, whatever comes first.

Namaste?

*endorphinated is not a real word

Jan 13, 2014 / 2 notes

Check out the trailer for our new Cracked show Adventures in Jedi School! 

Jan 9, 2014 / 6 notes

oldstoll:

hey guys i made my very first youtube video lol! will you like my video? xoxoxo

Jan 7, 2014 / 1 note

So proud of my great pal Todd Strauss Schulson and his new short ALL’S FAIR…

I have loved watching his style and voice evolve over the years and I think you will all find this story sweet, funny, sad and relatable. 

Jan 6, 2014 / 6 notes

I have been cyber stalking you. Yes, you.

I know you know that I know that we all know that social media is like designed to try and make each other jealous of our perfect lives. 

I mean, just look how adorable/handsome my boyfriend/dog are!

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But there really has been an insane amount of engagement/pregnancy posts lately. I know that I am not the only one to notice this. Tis the season to make huge decisions, drastically change your life forever and then make sure everyone knows, I guess.

And trust me, it isn’t like “social media“‘s plot to make me jealous is actually working. I am so not interested in a wedding or a baby. No really, I mean it! However I have found myself upping the cyber stalking game lately. I feel a compulsive need to scope out the scene and possibly pass judgement on who my friends (including but not limited to ex-boyfriends) have decided are worthy of spending the rest of their lives with and/or impregnating.

And before I continue, please remember, I have an adorable/handsome boyfriend/dog.

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But that doesn’t mean I can’t indulge in some voyeuristic cyber stalking. If you are one of my recently engaged and/or impregnated friends - I have probably poked around on your beloved’s social media site.   

So, ok. I have spent some amount of time this past holiday season casually scrolling around on Facebook and Instagram seeing what there is to see. It’s just that with these dang privacy settings, even basic snooping (city, profession, natural hair color) can get tricky. Everyone is sooooo worried about people knowing too much, that they have blocked me from all the juicy stuff!  

Instead of just requesting their internet friendship like a healthy non-stunted individual, I found myself sniffing around on Pinterest, looking for things to judge. That’s right, Pinterest. The social media site that isn’t even like, a real social media site. It is similar to looking through someone’s journal or scrapbook or private vision board. It is a spotlight into a person’s dreams and tastes and hopes and delusions. As far as social networking goes, this is a very personal, individual experience.

And yet there I am, obsessing over whether THESE STRANGERS are going to choose the burlap or succulent centerpieces. It offended me that they would even CONSIDER violet for the color palate, and I couldn’t stop wondering if that picture of the pie tower was simply something they thought was cute, or if there really WILL be a tower of pies. Don’t get me started on nurseries (or… maybe go ahead and ask, if you read this and aren’t creeped out. I am very good with interior design. I can make your nursery look like a baby Anthropology. Let’s just say “Where the Wild Things Are meets Anne of Green Gables”).

And then I realized that I would never know how these events turned out, because I won’t even be invited to this stranger’s wedding. I won’t meet mystery baby. I won’t attend its christening. I am less than nothing to these people. I am not even an afterthought. I admit it -  I was offended. It hurt that I had invested so much energy into their future and they didn’t even bother to ask for my opinion.

I know, it’s creepy. I am a creep. I didn’t realize there was anything THAT wrong with it until I admitted I had creeped around on a friend of a friend’s page and that friend unfriended me!!

But, like, I really do have an adorable boyfriend. And just look at that handsome dog!

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P.S. here is a link to my Pinterest if you want to revenge stalk me. Good LUCK finding anything juicy. 

My problem with Tumblr is that I don’t know who almost any of you guys are. Your clever handles and lack of bios really confuse me.
Jan 3, 2014 / 9 notes