Cootersnap!

and then float that shit down the river.

Evidently, I need to... mellow. out. Then agin, I'm 'watching' a movie with Crispin Glover in it (what the HELL happened to his nose?!!) and if ever there was a human who personifies the exact opposite of mellow, it'd be him. What the hoo IS this picture, anyway?

Hmm... started this last night, but oddly enough I was more interested in that personal train wreck of an actor, ol' crazy Crispin. Now there is one fella who really DOES need to chill. I still don't know what the movie was, but had to watch it. It sucked.

But back to the main gist of what I started on...

It has come to my attention that perhaps I'm not as mellow and easy-going as I think I am. Damn. Sure, there are things that'll get my panties in a bunch each and every time, but are they things that I can deal with on daily basis? It's a little late in the game to come up with a list of resolutions, but one seems necessary that I try to follow: do not let emotions rule my actions. Easier said than done, eh? Because, quite frankly, how exactly does one go about accomplishing this?

Do I just smile and be polite?
Do I not speak unless spoken to? (Yeah... like that's going to happen!)
Do I cut myself off emotionally from those who contribute to the way I feel?
Do I not let myself feel?
Do I simply become an inert hunk o' Ang?

Hey, if anyone has a pat answer, please don't keep me in the dark.

***

My boss is gone today. I think I got more work done the first two hours today than I have for the last week. It's a great feeling to have accomplished so much is such a little amount of time. Mayhaps I should suggest to him that it would be great if he worked at home once a week.

***

Could someone out there let me know how put links in the body of a post? I'm a complete dunderhead when it comes to this kind of thing. Heck, it's hit or miss for me to even post pictures. Sometimes I hit the correct sequence of buttons, and sometimes I don't. Maddening, that.

***

My friend Chuck is on his way back to Ireland today. I must say I'm going to miss him. Mr. Wiley, you brightened Iowa City for the few months you were here.

***

Anyway, time to get back to the Appreciation Factory. (Why can't lunch last for two hours?) Here's hoping you are all having a great Monday! I've been slacking in Bloggyville, but hey... maybe it's time for a post dedicated to Dickie the Killer Cock.

Anon!

It's Friday. Cake day. And I'm actually happy to be sitting at my desk. The sun is shining, the SueBee honey bear jar is smiling at me and my green tea is steeping. The addenda are done, gone, outta here. John is in a good mood.

A few days ago it was overcast and dreary. John and I were running around 'herding cats' and being rudely curt to one another. I was feeling really low all day. Not depressed exactly... but not entirely grateful to be sucking air, either. Today is different. I am superlatively, extraordinarily HAPPY.

Tomorrow morning my friend, Sue, and I start our volunteering gig at a local organization that procures food from a variety of local businesses and distributes it throughout the community to other organizations. We went through the orientation yesterday over our lunch hours, and by the time we left, I was feeling... (??how you say??)... PLEASED with myself.

Now, lest anyone think what selfless creatures we are for volunteering our time to a good cause, let me set you straight. We are getting something out of doing this. Yes, yes... I know we're helping people, contributing to the community, etc. etc. But the true motivation is to get free tickets to see Guster play in April. Yes, we are that shallow. However, I'm hoping to find that I like volunteering for this organization and will continue to do so even after I have put in enough time for that free ticket. What's one or two times a month, after all?

This is a good time for me to sit back and proselytize about the joys of volunteering (yes, I have done it before), but y'know what? How rude would that be? It's a beautiful sunny Friday, and I'm going to kick back, listen to an NPR 'Fresh Air' interview Terry Gross conducted with Stephen Colbert last month, drink my tea and revel in the fact that life. is. good. Hope everyone has a fantabulous weekend!

I would go to jail, I would. So it's not a feasible plan, really. I don't want to go to jail. But how can I make my boss **GO AWAY AND LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE SO I CAN GET THIS THING DONE BEFORE I GO APESHIT ON HIS ASS**?

Most of the time, we get along just fine (no laughing amongst my friends who actually know more about my working relationship with my boss). But today? Today we are decidedly not. And we're both trying to achieve the same thing... which is get this fucking five page addendum done by 4 pm. Now, in comparison, this addendum is a piece of cake compared to the 63 page addendum we sent out on Tuesday (which, as of Monday night when I left the office, was a mere nine pages long...) See the difference little Johnny? And, as an aside, as of yesterday we have LITERALLY shipped out over a TON of plans and specifications for this project (which is for the construction of a new county law enforcement center).

Why am I bitching about this all? Well, I'll tell ya: my blogging life has taken a direct blow because of work. When I get off work and get the hell outta my office, the last thing I want to do is go home and sit in front of my computer and think. And write. And type. What I want is to go to George's, have a few beers and decompress OR go home, prepare a fabulous dinner and drink half a bottle of wine.

Ah well... at some point some of the madness on this project will cease. Other maddening things will take the place of the first madness, but at least it will be a unique kind of insanity that will create different knots of stress in different parts of my body. It's all good...

And the good leads me to: I AM GOING ON VACATION MARCH 9TH THROUGH THE 14TH.

Yes, dear hearts, yours truly is taking a much-needed break to the Big Easy with my pals Mark and Victor. Last night, as I was sitting with Mark, we were discussing our plans and he made the comment "I have no agenda." I concurred that neither did I, really. Victor, however, has plans for dinner at Antoine's. So I amended my statement with:

"Ok, I don't really have an agenda other than (**here we go**):
1. Going to Antoine's for dinner one night.
2. Meeting Seven at some point.
3. Oh, we HAVE to go to Rita's one night for dinner.
4. Don't forget Brennan's for brunch...
5. One night I just HAVE TO suck down four hand grenades, just 'cuz.
6. I need to take you guys to my favorite bar, the Chart Room.
7. Of course we can't NOT have a Pimm's Cup at the Old Absinthe House.
8. Then there's...

and it sort of just went on from there. Nope. I have no agenda. Well, the only agenda I have on my mind right now is to make it through this day. Soon, I'll tell you all about my friend Sue's grand scheme to get 'free' tickets to go see Guster in April. Until then, buckle up, dress down, get dirty and swear out loud. If you have time, strap on the ol' beer skirt and have one for me.

Five inanimate things I love...
1. My laptop (not my dog... my computer)
2. My Calphalon cookware
3. Anthills that look like castles
4. Books, books and more books
5. Cameras and their lovely by-products

Five living things I love...
1. Weeping willows (and most other trees)
2. Female cardinals (I think they're prettier than their male counterpart)
3. TURTLES, of course!
4. Flowers: sunflowers, gladiolas, violets and dandelions
5. Did you really think I'd forget Gus da poog?

Five sounds I love....
1. Rain... more specifically, the sound tires make when driving over a wet brick street
2. Thunder
3. Cicadas, crickets, bullfrogs... all those lovely dusk/nighttime noises I hear when I'm in the country
4. Nighthawks when they're feeding... I like falling asleep to them in the summertime
5. A sincere "Thank you"

Five smells I love...
1. Cut grass
2. Soil... especially that really silty loam you can curl between your index finger and thumb
3. Cows and horses... no, not their shit necessarily, but that sweet smell you get when passing by
4. Garlic cooked in anything
5. If you could gather up a bouquet of violets... but one smells just as sweet

Five words I love...
1. Serendipity
2. Contemplative... but I like to pronounce it with the stress on 'temp'
3. Cootersnap (hey, it's a word now!)
4. Mellifluous
5. Derriere.

Five places I love...
1. New Orleans (who doesn't, really?)
2. The dock on my mom's pond at sunset and beyond
3. My bed
4. This little spot on Camelback Mountain in AZ where you walk through the rock
5. NYC

I s'pose this could go on forever. 'Specially if I start thinking about things I DON'T love, like grasshoppers. But to finish off in a James Lipton (supercilious twit that he is) sort of way... my favorite swear word is, and always will be, COCKSUCKER. Ta!

I wrote this on my friend Mush's blog a few days ago:

I haven't had a vacation in almost two years. I want to go to New Orleans for Jazz Fest at the end of April... first weekend (heck, the first NIGHT) Wilco AND Zap Mama are playing. I want to be there swilling beer and hiding out at the Gospel Tent when the big stages are setting up or tearing down. I want to stay at the Place D'Armes in the French Quarter, but skip their shitty coffee in the morning and walk half a block to the Cafe du Monde. I will eat brunch at Brennan's only because they have the best turtle soup in the world. And I will eat at Rita's at least twice. I will drink at least three hand grenades in one night (fuck hurricanes... those are for pussies) and resolve to have the lower alcohol content drink known as a Pimm's Cup at the Old Absinthe House before I stumble the two blocks down the street to my favorite bar, the Chart Room. And I WILL hunt down and find the guy that plays classical music on his water goblets in Pirates' Alley and request a song.

So, that being said, Cooter is planning a little get away. I need one before I go insane AND I have to take it before one of our projects takes off... it's in bidding now, but it's only a matter of time before it explodes into a full-fledged pain in the neck. In other words, Jazz Fest is out.

Plane tickets could be had for cheap. And rooms at the Place d'Armes start at $159. I'm in. Who seriously wants to go? I'm hopin' that March 21-25 might work out, but I'm not entirely sure if that might be too late for me depending on my work load here. Anyways, here're my feelers.... **tickle, tickle**

Ah yes.... those oh-so pleasurable sick days...

Got up this morning, played with the poog, showered, dressed, went to work. Normal hump day. But after about an hour or so at work, my stomach started to feel as if it was eating itself, not unlike those lovely Sunday mornings when I take the little, white, bullshit pill that likes to kick me. Damn Fossilmax, anyhoo.

So there I was at the Appreciation Factory, diligently working on a presentation, when I realized my stomach was in distress. My boss walked in, took one look at me, and said, "Are you okay?!" Musta been a little green around the gills. He kindly said I could leave for the day after we finished the presentation (that's due on the 8th). Two hours later, I was out the door.

Once home, the first thing I did was turn on the space heater and swathe myself in my most comfy sweat suit. Hey, life is mighty purty at Chez Cooter. All afternoon, I made one with the sofa, watched tv, and worked on the New York Times Sunday crossword, all the while trying to keep Gus from jumping on my tender belly.

Now, the one thing I hate about being home sick (or belly achin' or whatever) is that unless I have a life-threatening fever, I feel like I should be cleaning or organizing something. Did I do this? Hell no. But I got in an hour and a half of 'King of the Hill', an hour of 'The Simpsons', and an hour of 'Sixty Minutes: Hump Day'. Now the Dub is on and my stomach ache is coming back.

And dammit, this is after I made a good comfort meal: my fried chicken (which involves white wine, chicken broth, shallots, course-ground mustard and fresh dill), mashed potatoes with sour cream and garlic, and green beans with a little lemon butter. It was damn good. And now here it is about half past eight, and I'm ready for bed.

Why am I writing about this? Good question. Must be a testamonial to how frikkin' bored I get with my own company at times. Hmmm. I think I'll go wash the dishes now... g'night.

WHITE RABBIT, everyone!! I said it enough for all of us... see, if you say "White Rabbit" on the first of a month before you say anything else, then you get good luck for the entire month. Usually, I yell something like "Rufus, I am sooo gonna kick your kitty ass if you don't stop clawing at the door!" But this month, Rufus was good and I had my wits about me when the alarm went off at 5:40 a.m. So yippee kye-ay, kye-oh, I'm gonna have a good month. Even if Satan's holiday falls on the 14th.
**~~**

Heads up, please: The Roundtable Confessional (link to the right under 'linkertons') is experiencing a lack of reader participation. If there's ANYone out there who would like to join in our little online bookclub, we recently started Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates by Tom Robbins. As always, anyone can post a comment, but if you'd like administrative access to write posts, etc., then shoot me an e-mail at abellew@gmail.com and I'll pop ya an invite. Oh, and I have some g-mail accounts to gift away, so iffen thar's anybody out there who doesn't already have one, e-mail me at the above address.
~~**~~

Ok, so last Sunday my sis came over for a little while with the kids. As always, the cats scattered to the scampering winds, and Gus was His High Holy Roller licking up every ounce of attention the Did and the Goat would give him. Which was. a. lot. At one point, the Goat had to take a wee, so I took him to the bathroom. He learily eyed the terlet, then said "Andy Antchy, I need my pee-pee seat. I wiwl faw in." Hmm... so I held him in place. Glancing down, I realized his little package was pointed straight out the bowl aimed at my knees. Thank God the little bugger didn't actually have to go. Once down from his perilous perch, the kid just stood there. So I told him to pull up his pants. My sister yells down the hall, "Give him just a little toilet paper! Even if he didn't go, he likes to wipe his penis!" O-kay... Square in hand, the Goat got busy with 'clean-up'. At this point, Gus came barreling in and, and... yeah, you know what happened... he licked the Goat's penis. The Goat went barreling down the hall to tell "Mooommy, Gussie just licked my peenits!" Barring future counseling the kid might need, I thought it was funnier than hell. I suppose he'll think twice about trying to take a leak at Andy Antchy's again...
**~~**

Aw geez... morning news. Gotta love it. Michael Jackson is guilty. Hang him already and be done with it.
~~**~~

Well, kids, I s'pose that's all for now. I need to get ready for another fun-filled eight hours at the Appreciation Factory. Play nice, and remember to share your toys.