"IGNORE ALL THE CODES OF THE DAY"

You know what I wish? I wish I could find one of those bodyforms for sewing, but not the new flimsy fuzzy-plastic ones, but the old stuffed fabric ones. In my size. You know what else I wish? I wish a dentist would stop me on the street and say "Your smile is pretty good, but I can make it better! If you'll be my guinea pig/model/before-and-after person, I'll do your dental work for free." I don't give too big a shit about cosmetic procedures, but MAN, I would love to flash a big ol' Miss America grin. My teeth are pretty good, but a little oomph would be nice.

With this post, and the previous, I think it's obvious I've been sitting around feeling under the weather for the last few days, getting stir crazy and doing weird shit like scrutinizing my hair roots and teeth and feeling the void in my sewing area. So it goes.

How was the weekend? Mine was pretty good. I found out the hard way (mostly via experience, unfortunately) that what I thought was all sinus pressure was partly a weird allergy that I had as a kid that's come back. But, I suspected it was returning, so whatever. Unfortunately, the reaction grew up, too, so, you know, being sick plus that little tidbit equals fuggetaboutit.

But, I say my weekend was "pretty good" because, well, that's good to know, and because I feel a whole hell of a lot better and I checked in on some kittens whose people were out of town and did low-key stuff and actually fucking held still and rested instead of pretending not to be under the weather.

And, just in time, too. I have stuff to do this week! But right now, I think I want a nap.

"THE STORY OF MY LIFE"

Oh my, I have a lot to tell all of youse.

So, I fainted yesterday, twice. I think the unforch sniffley-sinusey thing reached my ears or something. It happens. I'm a fainter. I've fainted before and always when I have a good head cold. Anyway. It wasn't a big deal-- I was awake about a second after hitting the ground both times, but still. Fainting. How Victorian! The first episode was on the sidewalk in front of a bunch of construction workers. I felt it coming and started to bend and reach for a stoop, so my head wasn't far from the ground, at least, and I opened my eyes right as I heard, Damn, that hot bitch just fell the fuck out. Uh, thank you...?

The second faintyroo was leaving the Mac store. What was I doing int the Mac store? Well getting a new laptop, of course. Long story, but my harddrive was dead as a overdosing coke whore yesterday. One minute in full action, the next kaput. Luckily, I back up my work and had my ass covered for the most part, so I left with a new MacBook, only slightly awesomer than the MacBook I watched die moments before.

Anyway, I got that taken care of and bonk. And, again, I came to a second after I hit the ground. I felt kind of brain-freezey for a few minutes after, but fine the rest of the night. Today, on the mend. Just sniffley today. No throatey hurty or nothin'.

Anyway. What else? Yesterday I got a sweet invite to do The Nod-- a cool show men-about-town Joe Janes and Done Hall put up where bloggers read some of their favorite-est, fun-est posts before an audience. That'll be Wednesday the 19th at the Uptown Writer's Space and it's a kickass deal for only a $5 suggested donation. (Fear not, I'll remind you.) But, that's not until I get back from the (Downtown) Omaha Lit Fest. Which will be awesome. Just as it was last year. In fact, I think this year will be way bettah.

Speaking of good, we're over halfway to my fundraising goal for the Making Strides Against Breast Cancer event. And guess what? Because of all of youse and your support, I'm in the top ten fundraisers for this event in Chicago. How cool is that? Got a buck or two burning a hole in your pocket you want to fork over to the cause? Click here!

"STRETCH OUT AND WAIT"

I'm taking applications for a houseboy. No, that's not true, of course. I'm still sick, and don't want to go to the store. But, I need Pepsi, Spaghettios and a grilled cheese to go another round with these germs and so I must. It's just as well. Youse know how a Type-A aspiring to be a Type-B like me does. I'm trying to rest and feel better, but I'm laying around going rest, type, rest, type, email, gather, move, file, organize, find, look at clock, rest, type, cmon feel better... nnnnow.. Okay nnnnnow! and not really resting.

I get up early but when Ma Guth called today and said, at like nine in the morning, Oh shit, did I wake you up? I sounded like a cross between a two-pack-a-day octogenarian and a squeaky door. Now, post steamy shower to clear the nose, maybe just the squeaky door. Plus Minnie Mouse. Bleh. Today is the worst of it, but maybe that means I'll start perking up tomorrow. In the meantime, my brain is in a fog. Bloop, blee, blee, bloop, bloop bloop. If anyone wants to run a crazy idea by me, today is a good day to do it.

But, I do have sense enough to recognize three positive haps today. One, Mermaidhead's baby is being born as we speak. Two, The Prosecutor's birthday is today, too. Three, you guys-- we've already raised almost half of my fundraising goal for the walk, and I haven't even been taking donations for a solid 24-hours yet. Good, Good, Good.

Wait, what's that you say? What walk? Where can you donate? Oh, well click here, of course, for everything you need to know.

"GOLDEN LIGHTS, DISPLAYING YOUR NAME"

So, it's beena while since we've had a nice vanterie sans scruple over here. Here's this, check this out. I got quoted a few times in this article Beth Morrissey wrote over on Women on Writing about promoting your writing through your blog. I'm so flattered she asked to interview me for it. How cool!

Oh, shit my throat hurts. No! Nonono! I'll just ignore it. Yeah, that's the ticket. I'll just ignore it and it'll go away. The vague fever, too. If I don't acknowledge, none of it will exist.

(Who are you kidding, Guthieroo?)

I'll be snorting lines of Emergen-C and crushed up Airborne if any of youse need me. I shouldda known something was off when I didn't feel like going to the gym this afternoon and when Spaghettios, grilled cheese and soda on ice sounded spectacular for dinner. That's always what I jones for when I'm getting sicky. Spaghettios or tomato soup, either one. Dead giveaways. Damnit.

Must! Keep! Writing! Manuscript! Humming! Along so! Well!

"ACCEPT YOURSELF"

So, I went to the Body Worlds 2 exhibit last night. Because it's the final weekend, the museum is open 24 hours until Sunday, which I think is spectacular. So, my ticket was for 1am, as that seemed like a perfectly reasonable hour to see corpses.

As I have blogged before, I don't do too well with veins and needles. Drawing blood is an act of involuntary self-humiliation I avoid whenever possible. Just typing that make the tops of my feet and my hands feel weak. It's not pretty. It's terrible. I actually hurts my feelings and make this sob come from deep in my chest and I'm pretty shot for the day. So, I went to this exhibit as a gesture of stimuli confrontation therapy, I suppose. That and I, well, muscles and organs are really interesting to me. If I could have only gotten past the veins and arteries, an anatomy class would have been a field day. But, alas....

Anyway.

Aside from my screwed-up knee sympathetically aching as it remembered it's own ordeal as I walked through the knee injuries section, I did wonderfully. I had a moment when confronted with an entire arm of veins suspended in epoxy. I felt my feet go, felt my face flush, but took a breath and reminded myself, these are okay this is in my mind these are keeping me alive.

I had one of those strange teary moments, the ones that you never see coming but suddenly your breath catches and this gasp sort of comes from someplace else, when I saw a cadaver-segment representation of an ailment that threatened my father and that my grandfather succumbed to. I knew I'd see something like that, I was prepared to see something like that, but to turn into a room and actually see something like that is quite another matter.

Sure, research on cadavers like that one probably saved his life. It wasn't that. It was just seeing it there in front of me. Someone else's Dad. What my own Dad would have or could have been reduced to himself. Just one of those things you know the details of, but to see the details of, well, it's jarring.

"I WILL SEE YOU IN FAR OFF PLACES"

I'm not dead! Thank you to all of you dahlinks who've emailed and called to check on me. I'm on the mend, for sure. More later. I have a ton to tell you guys about. You're simply not going to believe what all I have to say!

"REEL AROUND THE FOUNTAIN CHARRED FLESH"

I could injure myself looking at a paper towel, for crying out loud.

I don't even know what just happened, but it involved an iron, an ironing board that I really ought to just replace (it's wonky), the haze of a head cold and a burst of energy from my cat. Whatever happened, I just got hit on the back of the head/neck with an iron then hit my cheekbone on my kitchen table. BONK! Ugh.

It's like that today, is it?

I'm frustrating myself today. I have plenty buzzing around my head to write down, but with this cold or allergy or whatever is going on, I have the focus of a gnat. I picked up a book I need to finish, read a page, got up to make coffee, took a shower, turned the iron on, took the cat food out of the cupboard but walked away, read a page of the book, wrote a sentence, checked email, blah blah blah.

Oh, Wen-Ti, Chinese g-d of literature, whose task it is to keep a log of writers to best assign reward and punishment to each according to his/her merit! Maintain me on your register of titles and honors and bestow upon me literary favor! C'mon, Wen-Ti, I'm talking a few pages today. That's it. Ten, tops. C'mon. Seriously.

Uh, Wen-Ti?

Hello?

Helloooooo?

"STRETCH OUT AND WAIT"

I love post-dated blog posts. Write it up, set the date ahead and one can be sound asleep while a post pops up. I love it. And, although I rearely do this, I did last night with the "crack ain't kosher" post below. And, I was out like a light when it posted. I slept so much last night. I guess I just really needed sleep, but damn, I slept forever. Forevah.

So, let's see, I have a little free time as I wrap up my morning work, before I launch into a busy afternoon. What can I tell you with this free time? Well, my left ear and the very back of the left side of my throat still are a bit sore, which I find very weird, but ignorable.

It is zero degrees in Chicago, with a windchill of fifteen below or something.

I still have a frozen shower so I have managed to continue the pioneer bath experience nicely. I now have a space heater pointed at the wall in my bedroom the bathtub backs up against and am seeing marked improvement in the temperature of the porcelain of the tub. The drain is still not draining, but I am dumping a huge stockpot of boiling water into the tub every hour or so to at least keep the temperature up in the hopes of melting something, just a little, just enough to get some water moving. This morning, desperate to feel water running everywhere, I did dump said large stockpot full of water over myself and while it was perhaps a bit too hot, I was glad to feel moving, as opposed to still, water. I am investigating options of shower-borrowing this evening. I am a trooper and all, but I am getting a little desperate for a real shower.

In the meantime, question of the day, who would like to give me some really cracker jack advice for thawing a shower. Oh, and the hot water on my bathroom sink is all frozen up, too. To avoid repeats, here is a list of everything I've tried so far. I have:

(a) filled tub with pots of boiling water
(b) poined space heater at various points of tub, walls and tile
(c) rubbed a very hot iron over all shower tiles
(d) begged with faucet in desperation to thaw itself
(e) filled tub with hot water, lined bottom of tub with baking sheets right out of the oven the increase temperature
(f) added salt to hot water before pouring it into the tub

Really, if you have any wisdom, feel free to help a sister out.

Oh will you look at that. The temperature has moved up to one degree! The high today is going to be five. Look at that. Spring just around the corner. Whimper. Speaking of which, I need to make a reservation today to go visit my folks, who live in a considerably warmer climate.

My stack of work is getting smaller.

An eBay purchase arrived Saturday that I neglected to mention! I found a favorite book from my childhood. The Great Blueness and Other Predicaments by Arnold Lobel (1968, Harper & Row) and it made me so happy that I read it with welled-up eyes.

See, lately, I've wanted to gather books that I loved as a kid. The Great Blueness was a big favorite, as were the Dorrie, the little witch series by Patricia Coombs. I've only found two, which sit proudly on my bookshelf near the little blue typewriter.

That's all I have for now. Back to the salt mines.

"REEL AROUND THE SHOWER, VOLUME II & MIXED UP 17"

Morning, sunshines. I spoke to my landlady last night, as there was still no sign of water. She's swinging by this afternoon to give things a look, as this morning I had a dome of water pushing up through my bathtub drain. I did the teakettle-and-pots-of-boiling-water-pioneer-bath again, and although it got me nice and clean, it did little to melt the ice. Oh, and my bathroom sink only has cold water available. A plumber is coming in the morning, because, as I'm sure you can imagine, scaring up a plumber on any Sunday, much less Superbowl Sunday is just not terribly easy. Ah well. I am well-scrubbed for today. I'll be cool until tomorrow morning.

Anyway...

I wrote this great post for you last night, then lost it and was on my way out the door so I didn't get a chance to rewrite it. Then, I came in from the windchill of twenty-five below evening and was too cold and tired to do much of anything but crawl under my covers and go right to sleep.

So, let's start over. That post must not have been meant to see the light of day, anyway. So, let me again welcome you to another edition of "If It Could Only Still Be Socially Acceptable To Make A Mix Tape, This Is What I Would Put On One This Week" Saturday, only a day late. No big deal. This week, since my city, heck, my region, is so consumed with sports fever, I decided to make this week's playlist a list of songs I would want played in sporting venue twer I a pro athlete.

1. Pio Mentirosa/Afro-Cuban All-Stars
2. Rock Lobster/B52's
3. Sunday Bloody Sunday/U2
4. Sabotage/The Beastie Boys
5. ANA NG/They Might Be Giants
6. First It Giveth/Queens of The Stone Age
7. The Druken Jew/Firewater
8. Nothing Achieving/The Police**
9. Machete/Moby
10. There Goes my Gun/Pixies
11. Trip Away/Jane's Addiction
12. Heights/Matisyahu
13. Black Friday Rule/Flogging Molly
14. Amy/Elton John
15. Bigmouth Strikes Again/Morrissey

(**The Police have announced they are doing a reunion tour this summer. Be still my heart! I still have a little lapel pin that my aunt (Z"L, of blessed memory) brought me back from a Police show in the early 80s. How can I not go?)

So, I went to a wonderful Tu B'Shevat seder last night. The High Holidays are my favorite, but I must admit that I like Tu B'Shevat a lot when it's done up. It's all environmental warm-fuzzies. What's not to like?

Oh, and although I feel perfectly fine, I sound raspy today. WTF? What? Is my throat frozen too? Anyway, I have a bunch of stuff that must be done before tomorrow morning, so I'm out.

"AS I LIVE AND BREATHE"

I'm alive! Woohoo! Here's the thing. I have decided that maybe I need to spend a moment in a tanning bed from time to time. Not for tanning! I feel so lethargic in winter and feeling lethargic makes work go slow which makes me feel easily overwhelmed which makes me stress which makes me succeptible to colds which makes me catch colds which then makes colds linger forever. So, if I got a little sunlight all over, maybe I'd feel young and spry. Because I eat well, I exercise, I take care of myself and the only thing different is sunshine. So, maybe I will go talk a tanning salon into letting me into a tanning bed for 5 minutes every couple of weeks. I've been in one before (I wasn't going to show up in the Yuccatan this pale. Hello?) and it takes more like twelve minutes for me to get any color, so, eh, maybe just a shot of UV would be enough to perk me up. It's like season affective disorder, only physically not emotionally. (Shrugs)

I Zicam'd it and Vitamin C'd it and ate lots of spinach and drank lots of green tea and water and fought my way through, though. I got really desperate and took a cold & sinus pill yesterday and pulled the hives/swelling throat/spike in body temperature routine on myself. Oops. Dumbass. I never have done well with Tylenol anything. But, I feel good today. Fucking finally.

But, I thrive. Amy Guth is always okay. I read a lot and painted. My two new canvasses are primed and on my kitchen walls so I can stare at them and figure out what the paint on them. I did laundry. I watched the Pesidential address two nights ago and now worry about the possibility of my friend, ArmyGrrl, being deployed.

For those keeping score: He said "terror" or "terrorist" (pronounced "tear" and "tearist") only ten times. "Sectarian" seven times. "Nuke-u-lawr" only once. "Nine-Eleven" only once. "Al Kite-uh" eight times. But, he said "Merica" a whopping twenty-two times.

How have all of you been? I feel like I'm out of the bloggy loop.

"DISPLAYING YOUR NAME"

Still sick, but on the upswing.

I got motivated and went to the supermarket a yesterday afternoon. I walked in and was met with a most unusual scene. The upperclassmen of a fraternity had descended upon the store for a scavenger hunt and were playing produce football, launging with the manager, shouting things to each other like, "Big fag Slovieski on aisle four!"

Good times. I rallied for a bit and went to dinner with Partridge and Waterflicker and strangely, was approached by a woman with a tiny notebook, asking us to write a few things about purple. I jotted her a little story about purple a guy, whom the narrator hated and was saddened by, though she kept his goldfish. Waterflicker wrote her a haiku and Partridge gave her a list of sorts. Anyway, I wasn't able to rally for long, as I haven't had much sleep in the past week or so, so I started to fade and went home and right to bed.

Anyhoot, if you will again pardon me for a vanterie sans scrupule, three reviews I wrote are up on Bookslut. Swing by. Give them a look. Click around.

Because I haven't been terribly productive in the last few days because I haven't been feeling too spiffy, I woke up with that vague panic this morning that I get when I feel behind. Back to work.

"REEL AROUND THE, UH, BATHROOM"

If I am supposed to call you today, I'm sorry. I woke up with a sore throat and then the fever came. I'm hitting the Zicam so I'll kick it out of my system soon. As per usual, I get stressed out, then get a little under the weather. Anyway, if I owe you an email or a call or something, bear with me.

Ah, but I do have some super news! My friend has finally launched a most excellent blog and I'm here to invite you to contribute to it. Check it out right here. Yep, it's really called The Bathroom Blog. Yep, it's really photos of interesting bathrooms. And, I have alrady given her a couple of photos from an interesting bathroom I stumbled across in my recent travels.

Back to the couch. Sigh.

"PRETTY GIRLS MAKE GRAVES"

So, on the tail of fighting off a cold, I stopped to get some tricked-out juice with all the extras to zap the health back into me. Before me stood a beautiful, polished blonde woman, complaining to her equally beautiful, polished blonde friend. She complained that her three karat wedding ring made the one karat right-hand ring birthday gift look unbalanced. She goes on and on about what a source of stress this is to her and I listen, bored, yet enthralled in the genuine pain in her voice. I wait for my tricked-out juice with the blonde women. The fellow in line behind me orders and moves to the side, near us, to wait for his tricked-out juice as well. I felt eyes on me and turned to see this fellow scratching his balls and taking in the three women standing near him. Aw, Sparky, you really put the ass in class, don'tcha?

Now, here's a little tidbit about me. (You'll see the connection in a minute.) I don't shave my armpits. No, sometimes I do, I mean, I have shaved them before, but most of the time I think it's a big waste of time. Why should I shave them? Who cares, really? Who gives a dirty shit about my underarms? Well, as anyone who tries to live outside the box will tell you, it would surprise you. The people you'd think would be creeped by armpit hair absolutely love it. The people you'd think wouldn't give a shit about armpit hair, especially mine, are not only sicked out, but some are downright angry. Isn't that weird?

It was the first warm day we've had and I took full advantage of the opportunity to wear a t-shirt on its own. So, standing there, waiting for my tricked-out juice with the fellow and the beautiful blonde women, I scratched my earlobe. The horror, I know. And, as you might have guessed, in order to scratch my ear, I shamelessly lifted my arm. As I did this, the fellow waiting for his tricked-out juice let out a loud gasp. I turned to look at him, to make sure he wasn't choking to death, and was met with a look of disgust. He scoffed, pointed to my half-exposed armpit and said, "Pssh. You're misleading." Are you joking? I laughed at the sheer absurdity of this and replied, "Don't worry. I'm not trying to lead you anyplace." He could have joined my laugh. He could have just shut the fuck up and not concerned himself with my armpits in the first place. Instead, he came back by taking a step towards me, shaking an angry finger in my face and saying, "And you know what? You're never going to lead me anyplace with those, either!"... before grabbing the wrong juice (In his haste, he grabbed the juice the blonde woman ordered. Imagine, a dude like him not understanding the concept of waiting his turn!) and storming out as he muttered I was "unnatural". Hey, Broahm? Actually, I don't think "unnatural" is the word you want.

So, am I supposed to be upset? Oh, boo-hoo the frat boy doesn't approve of me! I'd better run to the GAP and get myself outfitted right away in something feminine and flirty so boys will like me! Wait! Gimmie my little pink Daisy razor or I might not get my piece of Corporate Dude, Inc. Stop, fratboy! I'll shave for you! Please don't reject me! Pssh. Is that what he wanted? Seriously, what a fucknut thing to say.

Twenty bucks says:
(a) his name is Brett, Brock, Brody or Brandon
(b) he phoned a friend later and called me a "dyke"
(c) while on with friend, he also managed to slip in something about one or both of the beautiful blonde women "totally" wanting him, "you could totally tell"...
(d) he skips seats when going to the movies with male friends

"Totally"

"STRETCH OUT AND WAIT"

Having grown up in a house where illness (not mine) was a constant, I fight cold and allergies, terrified to admit defeat at all costs. It's a downfall of mine, I know. I should stop everything at the first sign of sniffles and chill the fuck out, but I don't. Anyway, needless to say, I blew off today for some unspecified downtime.

Even so, the first order of business were some odds and ends on my desk, followed by a housecleaning. I'm the only asshole I know who has to have a clean house in order to fight a cold. I'm that anal.