Friday Flashback - Hanging On

I once started a post at my old blog PoliTits with the following sentence: It's no coincidence that the same day I pay bills, I'm later seen vacuuming the garage.

So last night, after a busy day with an odd emotional twang to it, I found myself standing in the laundry closet holding several kid-sized hangers in my hands. I was sorting them by color. All the sudden, it was excruciatingly important that the pink go with the pink, the dark blue with the dark blue, the light blue with the light blue.....you get the picture.

I won't go into how I also wiped down the washer and dryer because they'd accumulated a bit of dust and effluvium, but I will tell you that the cat who has been conducting the furtive pooping campaign around the basement was caught in the act. My bellowed accusation of "So it is you!!!!!" sent him skittering through the basement and clomping up the stairs. Now he'll probably shift his pooping to the backs of closets. Oh, well.

I wasn't particularly grateful for something else to clean since I'd just gotten the OCD out of my system. And cat poo is never my OCD medium of choice. My OCD is only self-diagnosed and it only seems to come out when things seem incredibly out of control. I do these stupid little things so I can feel like things aren't flying apart. It's not the funny light switch licking of David Sedaris, nor is it the twitchy habit of an old dorm mate who would sit in a sink in the community restroom and pluck her eye lashes out one by one. Although, I suppose I could see the fun in that.....

There's stuff to deal with. And I guess I'm going to have to stop rearranging hangers and get to it.

I'm away from my computer today, staffing a seminar in Macon. I know that some of you are just grinding your teeth with envy over my obviously glamorous, jet-setting life. Envy not - it's not all gold-threaded linen wrapped soaps and fancy chocolate covered strawberries. This is one is what do you mean you thought I was bringing the LCD projector? and Why isn't the print on my name badge the same point as his?

Hooooooo boy! (Since I'm putting this up to post early, let's just hope that I remember the projector. And my emergency Reddi-Wip, just in case I forget.)

For willis.

Oh, the other day I said ennuinnie - a combo of ennui and me just plain old being a weenie, whining about this and that, which is my signature sound lately.....

Wow, willis, being in Vietnam, dropping acid and listening to this music? I'm thinking you have some incredibly interesting stories to tell......I'm wondering if you've considered writing about your different experiences? Nag, nag, nag....

And, willis, this song is a good one. I watched the video twice and wished that I could have been one of those go go dancers. The song itself is perfect for right now.

An administrative note: I'm going to give myself a little vacation from the blog. A couple of days. I need a break. In the meantime, please check out the blog roll. Read some archives. Take a break yourself. I'm going to be lying around bemoaning the fact that I still don't have a staff to carry out the hard labor. Or I might don my superhero outfit and go fight some injustice. I might even take up the banjo. It's just going to be a couple of wild, free and easy days where I wake up in the morning and consider clothes? No clothes?

You know what they say, this blog may be monitored for quality control purposes, but in the end, it's meaningless. I've just outsourced it to some far flung place where the lovely person on the telephone only sounds like she understands English.

See you soon........for now, set me free, why don't you, babe.........

A Mild Warning Because I'm NOT Willing to Stop Showing Off

Too busy with work today, blah, blah, blah........MathMan and The Dancer are away for a very cool audition/trip back to the Midwest. I'm home playing catch up for work and playing Rock Band with The Actor and Garbo.

I might even have more videos for you shortly. Dang, though, that camera doesn't add ten pounds, it adds thirty. If I didn't have a ton of work to do today, I'd be fiddling around with video editing, trying to keep things at this angle or that so you don't catch a glimpse of an extra chin or that oh-so-delightfully squishy muffin top of mine. Oh well. Work calls.

Oh - and before I forget (willis, I got your email, thank you, you're right - I do need to careful and aware) I have a warning for anyone who might consider using any information I give about myself for buggering purposes (if you want to locate me to hand me stacks of unmarked twenty dollar bills, well, okay then). I know how to use a gun. I can fart at will - and my farts smell hellaciously bad. I have raging cases of several diagnosed and undiagnosed venereal diseases. If I'm raped, I just kinda lie there like I've been drugged or something. I have the worst halitosis you've ever smelled in your life. Five out of five dentists agree - I could use some Dentyne. Imagine, if you will, you take an egg, put it in an old shoe, and bury it under a chicken coop......

You get my point. It would be folly to bother me or my family. Don't forget the attack cats. The scary hillbilly neighbors who are just itchin for a fight. Wanna squeal like a pig? Then there's the guy who lives in the trailer across the way. He is the neighborhood watch. That's what he uses his good eye for. The missing one? Well, that's an interesting story. We also have the electronic security system and the low tech, too - Garbo is posted at random times to kabonk you on the head with golf clubs from her upstairs window and, if I feel threatened, I will unleash The Actor, who is actually a feral child, but I've kept that off the blog because of pending lawsuits.

Of course, if anyone would ever fuck with my kids? Well, you know how you read this stuff and wonder if I am, in fact, certifiably insane? Well, we'd have that well and truly confirmed, I tell you what. And dudes? I'm not even this side of crazy compared to MathMan. He just plays a sane person on this blog. I mean, seriously. What sane person would (a) stay tethered to a lunatic like me and (b) voluntarily work with teenagers?

Enough said. That work isn't going to get itself done, the uncooperative bastard......here's a happy song for this rather gloomy Friday.