Friday, November 20, 2009


I have confirmed a lingering inkling in the past 24 hours and surprisingly, I find it amusing and embarrassing at the same time. My boss works on the west coast, so 90% of our communication is over the phone. Her five year old daughter is a little fireball and managed to help mommy hang up on me 3 or 4 different times yesterday because ::quote:: "I want to do [insert current idea] nooooow!" I love this kid.
1. She's is enabling me to continue tweeting, blogging, facebooking, etc. 2 points! you get a lolly next time I see you.
2. Reminds me of willy wonka and the chocolate factory.
3. She has confirmed that I, Courtney, am in fact a 5 year old stuck in a 24 year old's body.

Now, this has been a long standing joke in my family.
I tend to turn into a real pain in the ass when I am tired or hungry.
I pout, get irritated by nearly everything, and then annoyingly shoot down every idea everyone proposes. The following could be a real-life synopsis:
[Courtney sits in chair pouting as Mom blows candles out]
Mooooom, stop blowing out candles and let's just GO. I'm staaaarving.
Courtney, it takes 2 seconds. Do you want the house to burn down?
Well, it won't really matter if my stomach eats my small intestine and I DIE, now will it? Are you trying to kill your oldest child? My body is EATING itself. Is Dad ready yet?
I don't know, why don't you have a snack.
I don't WANT a fucking snack. I want REAL FOOD. It's 7:30!!! 
(as if this is far past an acceptable dinner time)
[Dad enters, jolly as ever]
Well, I'm ready where do you want to go? How about Mexican?
Ugh, NO! I had Mexican the past two nights.

Okay, well what do you want?
Anything but Mexican, I don't caaaaare let's just GO! Gahhhh;lskdjdjfdkjf!!
Coal Vines?
Whatever. Fine. I don't even care.
(I love pizza. I could eat it for weeks straight. But I will not let on that I am keen on the idea. No, siree. I'm in 'torture everyone that actually loves me' mode).
Do you want to go somewhere else?
NO! Drive!
Enter restaurant. 
Dad politely asks what wine Mom & I would like and heads to the bar.
I'm a lightweight. 5 minutes later I have done a 180 and am buzzed and happily chatting with them and smiling at the waitress as I ask for my caesar salad.
Later, my mom will probably recap to my grandmother.
Her response, "Oh, you know courty, she was probably just hungry or tired."
Mom: "SHE'S 24!!!"

When I was little, my mom would just let me continue to throw a fit on the floor, I believe my record was an hour and 45 minutes or something like that.
Now I guess it's embarrassing to have a child in her mid twenties throwing a tantrum, so in a reversed role, I now am rewarded for my fits. Positive reinforcement at its finest.

Five year old attribute no. 2: I seem to have a problem going to the bathroom like a normal adult. I drink a lot of water. and coffee. I drink a lot of whatever I drink. You know how when there's a plate of cookies in front of you, you just can't stop, even though you are painfully full? Yeah I have that problem with liquids. 
I'm not thirsty, I have a water baby, but I just can't stop!
The coffee is burning a dangerous amount of skin off my tongue, roof of my mouth, and esophagus, but I just can't stop!
Oooh, look! A shot of rumplemintz in front of me. Totes going to black out, but I just can't stop! 

  So, naturally, I pee a lot. But peeing is one of those things I find highly annoying in the office. First of all, my office is consistently frigid, and I am usually wrapped in my snuggie mustering up as much body heat as I can. To unwrap myself from a tight cocoon seems like such a chore. Especially when I could probably just pee my pants and no one would notice.
It would probably freeze anyway. Easy clean up: I could just throw the block of piss in the basura.
Don't worry, I haven't actually tried this.
To make matters worse, if I go to the bathroom, I will need to wash my hands.
Washing your hands 5,000 times a day can get them pretty chapped.
So I have to put lotion on them.
Then my keyboard gets all greasy and I'm slippin' and slidin' all over the place, messing up emails, dropping my phone, spilling water and coffee all over myself, getting lotion in my hair (or is that from last night?), the list goes on and on.....
So, I tend to sit at my desk and do the potty dance.
Squirming, switching positions, attempting to will my bladder into emptying itself.
The whole process buys me 5 minutes on a good day, and I may as well stand up, grab my crotch and yell "I NEED TO GO TEE TEE!!"
The whole charade will start in another hour or so.
The office probably thinks I have overactive bladder syndrome.
Nope, just a "drinking" problem.
I'm thinking a depends investment my benefit my time efficiency.
By the way, I'm doing it right now. I took the day off work before I leave for Austin later this afternoon. So I am sitting in bed, and it's warm and I'm comfy, and it's raining outside, and now I have to fucking urinate. Damnit! So I am going to try to finish the blog before I have to pee. Would it matter? No. But now I have decided to have a contest with myself, so be it.

5 year old similarity tres: I really like "kid food." There may or may not be a direct correlation between the fact that this food is cheap, but currently, my pantry is filled with easy mac, peanut butter, and gushers. Oh, and honey nut cheerios, but no milk. I like to spread this variety of food onto my adult high chair tray and go to town.
Sometimes I ask my roommate to cut up grapes and bananas for me.
Then I throw them at her.
Yeah, that doesn't happen.
But I would like for it to become a reality.

Oh, don't forget my sleep.
If I don't get enough sleep, I am worthless.
I like to completely overreact and droop my eyes, look miserable, and make everyone believe that I really cannot stay awake another second.
Could I? probably.
Do I want to? no.
And therefore, you will be better off sending me to bed than trying to get me to "rally" or "act my age." When I get tired, I'm done. I'm a morning person in general, so staying up late isn't really on my agenda. In fact, if I'm not going out, I tend to take of my makeup, put on sweats and glasses, and but out wine, ice cream, or both. If you call me after 8pm with no prior warning, I will immediately inform you that I am not going out and that you are an idiot for not calling earlier. Call me "unspontaneous."
Or bitchy. That works, too.
Day parties are really my forte, capiche? Why do you think I love football season? Drunken daytime debauchery, sports, and cookouts? I've died and gone to heaven.

Wrapping things up here, please note that sharing is not really on my list of things "to do" either. Of course, if I want something you have, it's a different story. But don't try to touch my shit. That includes but is not limited to: alcohol, fries that you did not order but somehow think I won't want even though I am eating them in between every bite of my sandwich, any sort of attention from any on-looker, and my chair.
Yeah you heard me, my chair.
Just because I'm not that big doesn't mean we can "share" and you can eventually slide your ass over so far that I am falling off. Small butts need room too. And contrary to popular belief, I DO have a tailbone, and shoving me in every middle seat, tight space, or cranny possible does not mean I am not in pain. I'm just a trooper. Because no one likes whiners.
Unless of course the whiner has an excuse: such as hunger, thirst, exhaustion, or general disdain for his or her surroundings.

Does that cover me for everything?
Oh, intoxication.
If I don't remember, or even if I do, it doesn't count.
Happy Friday!

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