Cootersnap!

Ok... Rufus is puking all over and Felix is watching in disgust as Gus cleans it all up with that gaping maw of his that houses a big ass flapper of a tongue. Rufus is fat. The vet yells at me each time I take him in for his shots. He's closin' in on 20 pounds, and that's a little big for a kitty. I think he's just bulking up so he can take on the dawg. Anyway, I generally don't get bothered by cat puke. It's all kibble. But just now, I came close to puking on my pets. Yes, I need a vacation.

The last 'vacation' I had was with Twit (his new girlfriend I refer to as Twat). We went to New Orleans a year ago March for a week. It was fun, but could have been more fun had I gotten, oh.. I don't know... LAID. Even if it was him. Like I said in an earlier post, I reallllly miss the viking. Sorry, I digress. This is not about Twit and Twat or even the viking. This is about the fact that I need a vacation.

Next weekend, Miz Meems and I are loadin' up the Mazda and headin' south to Missoura. We're takin' Ruby Jean, Mimi's wondrous sweet-tempered big ol' dawg. It's about a six hour road trip, and I'm lookin' forward to the drive as much as I am to arriving in Springfield and hangin' with Steve and Kerry. Anything that gets my ass out of this god-forsaken shithole of a town. I just wish it could last longer than a Friday to Monday gig...

Tonight I'll be hangin' with my friend, Nuclear Nick, who is in town from Minneapolis. He and his love, Kristen, are getting married October 2, and I'm looking forward to yet another mini-vacation at that time.

Now then, I need to start planning a REAL vacation. A week, two weeks... me, a pile of books, New York Times crossword puzzles sans Monday through Wednesday, warm sun, cool water, cold drinks. Me, alone or with someone. Me. Out. Of. Iowa. City. (Ok, leave off 'city'). I don't care where I go. Any suggestions? In fact, I kind of like the idea of going somewhere alone. I used to take myself out on 'dates' all the time. A nice dinner, great conversation (I have no qualms talking to myself), sometimes a movie, sometimes live music (should, say, the Honeydogs ever find their way back here... that was my last date with myself...). Man, I could get me in bed faster than any guy I've ever met (I don't lick my ears, y'know)... besides, I know the right things to say. But a vacation with me, myself and I sounds like a better heaven.

Vacation. Haiku.

I need to vacate
the pettiness of this hell.
Calgon. Go for it.

Ok, lame haiku. But I used to write a lot of it. Nota bene: on vacation, take a notebook, mechanical pencil, and GET IT OUT.

Well, folks, time to jump in the shower and get ready for yet another day wasted in the Appreciation Factory aka George's.

Oh, but one last thing. I want to mention that I got up this morning and drove half a block (in my jammies) to the local Amoco/BP to drop off Luna Azula (my Mazda) for an oil change. A man by the name of John Logan just bought the station from Rose (who's owned it for 34 years) and this guy bent over backwards to be helpful. When I called the other day to make the appointment, he got someone to come in special to do the oil change, because they don't do them on Saturdays anymore. They close at 6 and I don't get off work until 6:30. He's bringing the car to me. Now, that's service. So, kudos to John Logan.

Anon.