Cootersnap!

So so done. So done. Oh yeah.

Tomorrow, I start clearing my shit out of my office. Bit by little bit. By Christmas, there will be a cactus left. I don't claim to be the easiest person in the world to keep happy, but I'm sure as hell not someone's frikkin' doormat. Man, I despise my boss... (Oh, and I got the project done and turned in on time; GOOOOO meeeeee!!)

On the upside of life, I've had a five-gallon container of water in my car since Thursday and Roger brought it up the stairs for me tonight. Sound like nuthin'? To me, it's sparing at least two days of back pain. Somewhere along the way, I have become a wimp. Never thought I needed a man for anything more than what they're equipped for. Damn.

Anyhoo, peepages, many thanks for the good vibage! Now. I. Must. Sleep. 'Nitey nite.

It's the day before a four-day weekend. A lot of businesses have closed their doors for the day. Many people are sitting back ticking away the last half-hour of time before a gluttonous, hedonistic weekend begins. Not me. Of course, I'm quickly blogging, but in reality I'm taking a break from a project that will make me scream and ruin my weekend if I let it.

Less than two hours ago my boss handed off an RFP (Request for Proposal) to me. Usually, these are not that big of a deal to complete. A little research, a little language, and ta-DAH! You're done. Not this one. I've been in this situation before. It's an RFP for a federal job. This means hoops, hoops and more hoops. As I was perusing the nine page instruction manual (in very small print), I read "Public reporting burden for this collection of information is estimated to average a total of 29 hours per response... including the time for reviewing instructions, searching existing data sources, gathering and maintaining the data needed, and completing and reviewing the collection of information."

It's due at 5 p.m. on ***oh you guessed it** MONDAY. Even if it were to take me half the time generously allotted above, that would still make it a physically impossible for me to pull off. Unless, of course, I come in this weekend.

My boss is sometimes a complete and utter fucktard. However, this had better translate into one hell of a hefty year end bonus. Right now, I want a fucking beer.

Saturday night....

It's 58 frikkin' degrees in my apartment. My dog is wagging his tail to keep warm... 'cuz I know he's not that happy to see me. I'm drinkin' vodka lemonades and pretending it's hotter than fucking hell out and THIS is actually nice. There is absolutely nothing stopping me from curling up on my kitchen floor and freezing the fuck to death. Ok... that wouldn't really happen. The freezing to death part. But there's nothing keeping me from seeking solace on some cold hard linoleum. Marko, where are you when I need you to either join me on the floor, or pick me up and deposit my sorry ass in bed?

***

There's a picture I have that reminds me of a time when I was giddy happy (engaged at the time to a man I had not yet learned to hate). It's a shot of my sister and myself. My sister is in this bright orange turtleneck. We're at our mom's place... several trees line the driveway. Chris is photographed from a distance with her arms spread wide, popping out of the trees. My noggin' is barely poking out. And, though you can't even really see either one of our faces (my back is turned), it's my favorite picture ever of the two of us. Sisters.

Sunday night...

I started this last night, but decided to put it on ice. My apartment is much warmer, thank you.

Yesterday was a nightmare. Something right out of a Heironymus Bosch painting. I worked at the bar for the last Hawkeye football game of the season. At home. Against Wisconsin. It was... disgusting. I came pretty damn close to throwing in the bar towel a few different times.

My friend Mark came down when I got off work cartin' an incredible box of chocolates for me. They're from Berkeley... the place is called Scharffen Berger. I'm one of those strange women who doesn't crave chocolate ever, but placed in my little hands, I'll scarf it. And it came in handy last night.

Mark told me he had something to tell me. He asked for my hand. "Uh oh... this is going to make me feel like shit, isn't it?" Well, yes. It did. Jeff (aka Twitch) got married. To Sarah (aka Twatch). She's pregnant. Scharffen Berger makes a delicious bittersweet chocolate. Tonight, I'm going for the semisweet.

***

This morning I got up, head pounding. I dutifully took my Fosamax tablet (which my friend Charley refers to as 'Fossilmax') for this lovely condition called osteoporosis. I then went straight to bathroom and vomited. Five times in the space of an hour. So, I decided to go back to bed and got up at 3:30.

***

The upside of this day? I got to see Mimi. She's doing really well, by the way. And we're going together for pedicures on Friday.

***

Jason, thanks for keeping me off the kitchen floor last night and for being a good friend. Can't wait to hear the new CD when it comes out. And speaking of music, everyone reading this needs to go out and get Madeline Peyroux's new album, 'Careless Love'. Listen to track four and dance in your living room. I'll be over here in my very cool (literally) apartment doing the same.

What do these three things have in common?
a. Raccoon penis testimonies
b. The senator wore pantyhose
c. Bathtub deglazing

Give up? They're all phrases plugged into Google... and my blog was called up. Now, I understand having 'a' show up, since I did write about my lucky raccoon dick-bone. But 'b'? That's just silly (and actually the second pantyhose reference, as one search was for 'raccoon pantyhose'...). And 'c'... well, heck. That just sounds disgusting. It brings to mind something along the lines of Naked Cooking with Paul Prudhomme. "Deglaze the tub using a dry red wine, and be sure to scrape up all the browned bits..."

Eww (sorry about that)... I must be off to George's for a cocktail before heading to my sister's for another family dinner. It's actually going to be fun, but as I wondered earlier, am I more excited about seeing The Did and The Goat or about eating the surf and the turf (lobster tails and filet mignon... mmm)...? When in doubt, I err on the side of gluttony...

Bon apetit!

There aren’t many hours of lightness now.
The givers leave us with less.

When we look at each other,
we have to hide our wants.
My want cries and cries.
I hit it while I pretend no one can hear.

I catch someone looking eager
for me to damage my want
so I won’t have it.

But I feel rude.

Let me show you some things
so you won’t look at me.
This is the Hi-Liter I highlight with.
This is the telephone that my friend used
to scare me. She loves me
so much I don’t think
she’ll ever show me what she wants.
Oh how I speculate.

As though that’s the same.
When I speculate, the stars
that dangle from the ceiling like a reward
become reward and I have hope
one day all will come.

Sometimes the givers want
to see us. We let them
with their cold hands.
We don’t know how to get.

I like it here. I’m quiet.
I promise you I’m good.

What is going on? I'm stumped. If I didn't know any better, I'd think the universe was hurling spitballs at me. But the universe has bigger and better things to do.

It's only Tuesday and I'm wondering how in the hell I'm going to get through the rest of the week. The viking is in town for the night. But after tomorrow morning when we go our seperate merry ways, I don't know when I'll see him again. And this time it may be for a long time... not just a few weeks here or a week there. It might be months. And instead of trying to find words for how I feel about it, I am tied up a thousand different ways... all of which are not allowing me the uncluttered mind necessary for sorting through it all. Maybe it will all become 'unmuddy' tonight when we talk...

Tomorrow after work, Blake, Meg and I are hooking up for a vicious game of Scrabble. Love, love, LOVE that game. It will be a pleasant diversion from all the other needles of reality.

Lest you all think I'm in a deep depression, worry not. Funk, with me, is waaaay different. And the only way out of a funk is to THINK your way out... at least in my world. But I need to be the troglodyte I am at heart and burrow my way into Mother Earth for a little grounding. It's times like these I really really wish I had my own home. Come to think of it, that's part of the funk. I need quiet. My own space. Not a space shared with a bar full of loud, obnoxious fucktards who think the next shooter is the best damn idea they've had all night.

Last night, for instance, I was sitting with a few friends after work. One of these friends, bless her soul, just happens to have a rather loud voice at times. I was unequivocally rude to her at one point when I mentioned, in no uncertain terms, that I didn't appreciate her screeching into my ear. I feel like shit about that. It is possible to have quiet conversation, even in a bar, but there was no reason for me to snap at this poor woman.

I need silence. In my book, it is platinum.

Restless. Such a goofy word for an insomniac. Does it really mean anything in that context?

I'm watching a movie that's the insomniac's dream: 'Rear Window'. I could watch this over and over and over. Much like 'Rebecca' (of which I know most of the dialogue. In fact, I may just go to bed and watch that... it's in the VCR, y'know. I don't have it on DVD... which is in the Living Room).

Anyway, in the former afore-mentioned film, the little dog was just found dead as a doornail. Though the tears from the woman owner sound way too much like the lion in 'The Wizard of Oz', I still cry. Damn it. Good dog for lying so still-like. And can anyone NOT feel badly for Miss Lonelyhearts? And even though you know how it's going to end, don't you still think Thorwald is really going to kill Jeff? And aren't you happy when Miss Lonelyhearts goes to the piano player's apartment because you just KNOW they're going to get it on? And isn't Grace Kelly one of the most beautiful women in the world? And don't you just want to dress like that?

Why did I eat that stupid pot roast sandwich? In any case, my least favorite part of 'Rear Window' is the music during the final credits. 'That's Amore'... but it's all done down in that bad horrible muzak kinda way...

***

Still feeling restless. Yesterday at the grocery, I was filling up my 5-gallon water containter. This little soccer momma came crashing into my cart (which was empty... I just went for water, really), unloaded her three one-gallon containers and proceeded to RINSE THEM OUT. I must have had some pretty high eyebrows goin' on, because she looked absolutely befuddled that I would bother to make eye contact. Is it just me? I found this disturbing. And she would be the bitch at the recycling center yelling at someone "That's not a #2 plastic!!" God, I hope her minivan gets rear-ended.

***

I've spent way too much time in this chair. It's time to be kind to my body. Here's wishing everyone a wonderful Saturday. **wish-squinting eyes-wish wish wish**
'Night all.

Anybody ever have one of "those" days? (Yes, it's a rhetorical question). Well, I am in the midst of one... even though it's my favorite day of the week. Wassup with that?!

For whatever dumbshit reason, I've been sitting here listening to the same song by the Foundations (ad nauseum), and writing myself a personal ad (which I would never place). Am I having some strange sort of breakdown? Seriously... as much as I love 'Buttercup' I don't really feel that way (and I'll be good goddamned if I sit by the phone for any guy). And I'm way too much of a skeptic to even come close to thinking about placing a personal ad in the paper (or online... so what follows is me having fun, not an attempt to procure a date from the mists of cyberspace).

SWF seeking SM. Must be a master of puzzles in order to unravel the Gordian knot that is my life. Not necessary to be named Alexander, but it IS necessary that you be GREAT. No mediocre people need apply. Please call 555.OHMY.

See? I think I'm losing it. I'd best get back to work. Happy Veterans' Day (and Thursday) to all!!

...the fortunes in my cookies.
...things ever really change.
...in "I love you."
...in forever.
...anyone ever really changes their spots.
...I change either.
...in the Tooth Fairy.
...anyone really 'gets' me.
...things are EVER as bad as they seem.

I DO believe...
...in magic.
...that things change all the time.
...there is someone out 'there' for ME.
...in infinity.
...that people can change.
...that, in tandem, I change, too.
...in Santa Claus.
...I'm an open book.
...that things kinda suck.

"Thank you for calling Cootersnap. All Cooters are currently busy with other peeps... please stay online and your questions will be answered in the order in which they were received..."

"Hello, this is Cooter. How may I help you?"

Inanna asks: What flaw would you most want your significant other to overlook in you and what pet peeve would you be most likely to overlook in a significant other?
Cooter sez: I wasn't aware I had any flaws... but I s'pose if I had a significant other, I would want him to overlook how anal I can be (use a coaster, wipe off the countertop if you make a mess, etc.) but still do these leetle beety theengs that make me a happy, smiley Cooter. And what pet peeve (I assume you mean mine, not his) would I overlook... public displays of affection, such as going down on me in a bar, or some such thang...

Defiant Heart asks: If you could have any superpower which one would you choose and why?
Cooter sez: I already HAVE a superpower which is the ability to stick my finger (on the first try) into any man's (fully camouflaged by clothing... no small feat!) belly button. Yes, this is a superpower, because it makes them giggle like a little skewlgrrrl. But if I could choose another, it would be to fly. Why? 'Cuz I appreciate the birds' eye view of life... not to mention, flying dreams are so much fun that I would love to do it in 'real' life.

Local Jewish Ass asks: If you had a choice at being one of the following, which would it be: deaf & mute, blind, or a quadriplegic? And why?
Cooter sez: None of the above. But if I HAD to choose... I struggled with this one, but I'd choose deaf & mute. By process of elimination: I would NEVER want to be blind! I would much rather SEE the music of life, the eternal dance, than to hear it. To be plunged into total darkness would be death to me. It would be like being locked in a closet... too close for me. In short, I'm too damn claustrophobic to be blind. Who the hell would want to be stuck in MY head? As for being a quadriplegic, that'd be too much of a health issue. I'm good enough at sitting on my fat ass as it is... So deaf and mute by default. But at least I'd still be able to get to the library and lie in bed at night and read. Plus, if I was mute, I'd probably have a lot more friends...

3sth3r asks: Most embarrassing situation?
Cooter sez: Damn, Esther!! This is too hard. I suggest you read my archives and take your pick. It would have to be a toss-up between the time my bridesmaid dress split down the back or the time I went sprawling into a daisy bed while trying to impress a stoopid guy. If I knew how to link, I'd set you up with the stories... 'Course, I haven't written about all the embarrassing times in my life... However, one comes to mind: back in my early college days, I'd have to say it was damn embarrassing to FAIL (as in a big Fat EFFFF), one course: Human Sexuality. What can I say? There's a time and place for everything... and I took the final tripping my ass off. It was the greatest test I ever took, even though I scored something like 12% on it. (Lost my scholarship after that semester, too, and it took me until a year ago May to FINALLY get my degree in anthropology). There's a peeing story in here somewhere, too, but I'll save that for a future post.

Kristin asks: Most embarrassing thing you've ever done or had done to you.
Cooter sez: Automatic disqualification for not being in the form of a question. (Just kiddin'). Since I answered Esther regarding embarrassing things I've done, I'll use this to answer what was the most embarrassing thing I've had done to me.... also a hard one (**eeny meeny miny mo...**) Years ago I had messed up one of my knees while on the rowing team in college. My mom took me to the hospital to have it checked out. They had to shoot my knee full of novacaine, dye, and bunch of air. Then the nurse asked me to follow her down the hall for the x-rays. I hopped down from the table and, never having had novacaine before and not realizing what it does, my leg buckled and I landed on my face. That hurt. Wasn't much help that my knee 'farted' for three days, either...

80 asks: Best vacation you ever had.
Cooter sez: New Orleans 1995. Went with three friends for Jazz Fest. Saw Ray Charles. Drank. Ate. I got lost my first night there and wandered around until I ended up in the Chart Room, a bar on Chartre, two blocks south of the Old Absinthe House. Interestingly enough, I ran into another friend there who took me all over the place. I hopped in a cab at 4:30 in the morning to go back to the hotel, but couldn't remember the name, where it was, etc. That cabbie drove my ass all over town for about an hour and a half until I recognized some landmarks. It was most enjoyable cab ride I've ever had. And it was definitely the best weekend. I mean, geez... how can a person NOT have fun in New Orleans? I was there a year and a half ago with Twitch, and while it was fun, I was with his skanky ass. But, I had my free time while he was at a conference. Oh, and this last summer, Miz Meems and I went to Springfield, MO to visit some friends. That was damn hellacious, too. Ah heck, 80, all of my vacations are the best one I've ever had. I LIKE vacation... as long as there are friends, good food, good drink and good conversation, I could have fun in frikkin' Siberia...

Trashman asks: What color underwear are you wearing?
Cooter sez: Creeeeeam.

Catt asks: If you won a gazillion dollars in the lottery, what would you do with it?
Cooter sez: Treat everyone I love to something that would be inherently special to them. Then, I would get a giant headache and not want to deal with it. But at least I'd have that headache in Bora Bora. (Were you looking for the 'good' I'd do with said money?... Sure, I'd give to charities, but who would really benefit? The people who need it, or the people who run it? That's why I'd treat my friends and family to their wildest dreams...) One person at a time....

Meg asks: Did you see? (She's referring to the new Jarmusch film)
Cooter sez: No, but after I win the gazillion dollars, I'm going to buy it. And a theater. And have a Jim Jarmusch film fest, followed by a Coen Bros. film fest, followed by...

Michael asks: What celebrity should play you in the movie version of your life?
Cooter sez: Jamie Lee Curtis. I've heard we look somewhat similar. I still don't see it. But I love the fact she's a brassy bitch. However, nobody gonna be makin' a movie 'bout the Cooter.

Ed Sid asks: If you had 3 days to live, what would you do? And if you were still alive on the fourth day, would you have any regrets?
Cooter sez: I would have as much sex as I possibly could. And, um... NO. (Well, hopefully...) Seriously, Ella Seed, I think I would go camping (something I've always wanted to do and haven't... except for a brief stint with the fam in 1974; a yellow sleeping bag with smiley faces on it doesn't really prepare you for mountain cooooold) with as many people as I could get to go. I would want to see every sunset, every sunrise... of course, I'd probably have to be on speed. But for the overall end question... no. No regrets. I don't have them now, I won't have them when I prepare to die. As a friend says: I made this coat, and I will wear it.

Vadergrrrl asks: How do you define "misogyny"?
Cooter sez: You goofy bitch!! LMFAO!! Um... those bastards... and what's the alterno-gender word? Dyke doesn't cut it. But let's come up with something new, shall we?... I like miso soup. Gyn = woman. Y = ish. Misogyny - soupy womanish. Or soupish woman. Anyone we know?

Seth asks: Why did you pick a pug? If you had to rename Iowa, what would you rename it as? If you could remove 2 words from the English language, what would they be? If you had to eat the same thing for a week, what do you choose?
Cooter sez: He chose me. Heaven. I do. Sushi. (Boggling at the possibilities... but geez...)

Celti: Thanks. Feelin' a tad more humanish.

Kristen asks: Well, why don't you do like they do at the Actor's Studio and give yourself the Bernard Pivot questionnaire?
Cooter sez: 'Cuz I'm not an actress... but I'll answer the questions, even though I CANNOT STAND James Lipton.... Serendipity. Bigot. Water. Lies. Motherfuckertittysuckertwoballbitch OR cocksucker. Laughter. **queef**. Editor. Soldier. "You're fucking late again, Bellew!"

Jack asks: I'm not too late, am I?
Cooter sez: Day late, dollar short? But I'm not a punitive kinda gal. You want to know about a happy moment in my life? There are many Many MANY. But one (only one) of the happiest moments I ever experienced was when I found a person in my life that accepted me. Every single time he walked into a room, my stomach flipped, my heart turned over. And when he told me "I love you", the world stopped for just an instant. And I felt at home. But it didn't work out...

Catt asks: When are you coming to visit me?
Cooter sez: When you're done with school and I can afford it. So, say... a few years? Or what about meeting up in New Orleans? **chortle chortle**

Jay asks: What does "cootersnap" mean?
Cooter sez: Whatever you want it to mean, baby.... Actually, Michael partially answered by quoting my response to 'cooter' definition. My first few posts refer to how I came up with the title of said blog. Since then, I suppose it's taken on a life of its own, eh? But, to me, it sincerely does not mean a lot. I'm not a man-hater. I don't bite (anymore, mostly). But I love turtles. And I'm a snappy bitch.

Thomas asks: What was your favorite breakfast cereal growing up, and when was the last time you had a bowl of it?
Cooter sez: QUISP!! I loved Quisp!! I want a Quisp tee-shirt!! I want a pallet of Quisp!! They stopped selling it in the midwest years ago. Man, how I loved my martian bowl of goodness...

So, until such time another question may be asked, I'll hang this on the chalkboard.

Ok, just because I'm tired of the political brouhaha, it's time for a little fun. To take a page from Jack's blog: ask me questions. I'll answer them. Or I'll ignore them. But chances are I'll come up with something because I'm a big blabbermouth. So... ask away. Please. Because I honestly can't think of any material to write about just now. Answers will appear in a seperate post.

**Thanks to the Texas Narc for the idea. And if anyone can figure out what Jack and the Snuffleupagus have in common, I'd sure like to hear it.**

And fuck hatred, too, while you're at it.

I spent most of yesterday being a pathetic, weeping mess. I roamed Bloggyville reading others being pathetic, weeping messes. Well, that's ok... for yesterday. But for today, enough already. As long as I have a fire in my belly, I'll frikkin' say anything I feel strongly about. And while this isn't really about politics/the election (ok, maybe it is...), it was the catalyst.

What I want to say is: a lot of people showed their true colors yesterday. Some good, some not so good. It's what we do NOW as a country that is going to make any sort of difference, not what we SHOULD HAVE done. It's been decided. Get over it. Yes, registered Democrats who did not bother to vote can suck my left tit. Hell, let's include Republicans in that, too. I've no tolerance for non-voting, sitting-on-your-ass, gonna-bitch-about-it-all-anyway motherfuckers.

I've no tolerance for Democrat bashers.

I've no tolerance for Republican bashers. ('Course, I've no tolerance for GW, either...)

I've no tolerance for anyone who's going to sit back and whine about what ain't right with the United States. Crawl into your damn hole and stay there. The rest of us have work to do and you'll just get in the damn way.

I'm so fucking scared. And there's nothing I can do about it.
John better just let me go today. I can't work.
I woke up on my couch. CNN still on.
And I haven't stopped crying.

I must sleep. But for now, I must shower and pretend to go to work.

I can't stop crying...

I was #38 at my polling place this morning. There's something about going there and being nice to the volunteers, placing my ballot on the belt and sliding it gently forward into the mouth of the machine, getting the little 'I Voted' pin, and walking out, head held high for having done my civic duty of casting one vote to oust W.

Such was the very beginning of my day. And then I got to work. Ten minutes late. Ten minutes. And my boss rather indignantly berated me. I mean, for FUCK'S SAKE, Asshat, the fate of the free world lies in the balance and you're bitching about ten frikkin' minutes?! WTF?

And then he left to go drive folks to the polls. Nice to have a day off, eh, John?

Just kidding.

Ok, so the blogdrool is eating up more and more time. I feel *discombobulated* for spending so much time reading and not writing.

So here goes: an incomplete history of shit no one really needs (or wants) to know about me... subtitled "The Lazy Girl's Post to Appease the Lack of Masses":

1. I hate lima beans. And liver. But once a year, I like a little brauschweiger. Just keep that damn plakhi away from me.
2. My dad and I got into an argument on Christmas day last year. I'm not going home this year.
2a. Disclaimer: I love my dad. He's difficult, though...
3. I'm a bitch and everybody knows it. Yet I still manage to retain the friendships of some daaamn incredible people.
4. I'm a neatnik. But I hate to dust and won't do it until someone has an asthmatic attack whilst in my slovenly abode... where EVERYTHING HAS ITS OWN PLACE.
5. My dog is good. But he's so bad. My cats are bad. But they're so good.
6. My love life is pathetic. Except when it's not. Like this morning...
7. Politics piss me off.
8. I find humor and wisdom in cartoons.
9. Vodka is my friend and my enemy.
10. I have a stack (or three) of books on my nightstand that ALL clamor for attention. I'm fickle.
11. The "Christian Children's Fund" commercials make me retch... especially with that fat guy.
12. The Viking can pick me up and put me on his damn shoulders if he wants to... I'm impressed.
13. I'm not a small person. If I date a guy, his thighs have to be bigger than mine. And if your biceps are bigger than my thighs, that's just a bonus.
14. I don't like assholes, dumbshits or cunts. I've dated them all. (And, just to clarify, men can be cunts.)
15. I like being alone. A lot. But my greatest fear is being alone for the rest of my life.
16. I'm a freak for crossword puzzles. NYTimes Sundays and Thursdays are my favorites.
17. When in doubt, I cook. And then eat. It really sucks when that gets turned around.
18. My friend Mark is going to teach me how to bake. As much as I love to cook... I DO NOT know how to BAKE.
19. I can be... completely... UNforGIVING... Please don't ever anger me.
20. I'm fair. Except when you trample on my heart. Then, you might as well tuck tail and keep the fuck away from me.
21. I don't EVER get enough sleep. It's not as bad as Rob, but it's still not enough.
22. I wish everyone in Bloggyville would get along.
23. I've just told you 22 things about myself, but you still don't know me any better...

Good night.