Walt Motherfucking Disney

"I know that look."

"What look?"

"The one you just gave that girl in there."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're twitterpated."

"Twitterpated?"

"Yes. Twitterpated. You're walking along, minding your own business. You're looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of a sudden you run smack into a pretty face. Woo-woo! You begin to get weak in the knees. Your head's in a whirl. And then you feel light as a feather, and before you know it, you're walking on air. And then you know what? You're knocked for a loop, and you completely lose your head! Twitterpated."

"Wait a minute, are you quoting Bambi?"

"Sure am. Doesn't change a thing though. I'm still right, and you're still twitterpated."

"Alright. I admit it, I'm twitterpated. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"No sir it does not indeed."

"Stop talking like that."

"Like what?"

"Like the friendly goddamn owl."
~

Thursday went remarkably well. I was up early to go to work, stopped in for my morning hot chocolate, and headed over to my mom's house where I played games with the kids for something like five hours. I actually had some turkey there before heading down to Bayonne. As always I was a little cautious about spending time with my dad's side of the family. I think I mentioned here that it would be the first holiday I'd ever spent with them, but my mother corrected me and said it was the first holiday I remember. Apparently when I was real little we used to all spend the holidays together. It's actually sort of sad I was too young to remember that. It took me a few minutes to get square on exactly who everyone was, but after that it was a pretty good time. We had run of the bar and though my Uncle Junior kept trying us to run the top shelf stuff I stuck to a single glass of the moderately priced Oban. I also skipped desert and didn't take second of anything, so I did sort of well for the day. After the restaurant we stopped in at my Aunt's house. It's their first holiday without my cousin James I believe, and my cousin Bridget had gone out to California to see James so they had a half empty house, but they seemed to be handling it well. It was good to see them too.
~

"If smelling like Scotch at seven in the morning is wrong, I don't want to be right."

~
Yesterday quickly turned into a complete waste of a day. I was too tired to really do anything productive, and too ambitious to really do nothing all day. So I picked up some plumbing supplies so I could do some work today and then picked up some new quills and ink so I could do some writing last night. I went through several stages of madness, but nothing as bad as I have in other recent days. It was good to get some stuff down on the page, made me feel a little better to tell the truth. I also avoided doing something I didn't really want to do. It's tough sometimes, when no one's around, nothing is going on, and you just need to get out of the house. You get a little cabin fever. You get a little twitchy. But I locked my shit down, and dealt with it. I didn't go as deep as I felt like I could. If that makes any sense to anyone.

So today I've just about finished up my office obligations, going to go home and do some work on the basement, then maybe clean up and stop by the comic shop to pick up the rest of Preacher. Maybe stop at Best Buy and pick up a few DVD's and then after that, who knows?
~

"Twitterpated?"

"Jesus Christ."

"You actually opened a post using the word twitterpated. That's embarrassing."

"You know I've quoted Nietzsche, Proust, Poe, Pessoa, Socrates, Plato, Descartes, The Bible, and about a million other poets, writers, and philosophers and nobody says a goddamn word. I quote Walt motherfucking Disney one time and it's like the whole world's gone to shit. Why exactly is that?"

"You said twitterpated."

"Shut-up."