My son comes into the kitchen the other day, dancing and clapping his hands. He stops, squints at me and asks "What's good?". Entertained, but slightly distracted, I replied "Not much bro-ski". It was an honest answer, given that this is the season of the bitch.
I work in a business that has a pretty well defined busy season and for whatever reason, that busy season lands right around the holidays. I also work in the type of job where you have to work in large teams of people. Working with a large group of people, increases your chances for working with people that have personalities that have more in common with a festering bunghole than a decent human being. The upside of this is that for every difficult person, there are twenty awesome people that are committed to offering their skills and expertise, without the side order of bitterness,hate and childishnes that bungholio contributes.
This is nothing that I can't handle, because I feel that people who behave like this, offer self-fulfilling punishment by way of their own embarrassing behavior. There is nothing that I could do or say that is more humiliating than to let these people flaunt their bad attitudes and lack of cooperation. Score! Unfortunately, they become an inconvenience when fighting the clock, as their foot dragging petulance can occasionally slow progress.
HEY WAIT DIARY! WHAT ABOUT THE ANUS OF A CAT?
OK, chill. I'm not about to steal anybodies good time.
Owing to my OWN childishness. . .
There is a person that I work with that is so foul and so bitter that I want to name them Marie. Why Marie? Because as my daughter informed me, the meaning of the name Marie in some cultures is "Sea of Bitterness", and there couldn't be a more perfect description for this person than that. " But what about the anus, Diary?", you might ask.
OK, OK, I'm getting to it.
When we were in Italy, we went to this Tuscan hillside restaurant where no one spoke English. We were greeted in the outdoor courtyard by a brown, curly haired dog at our feet and a black and white cat, sitting on the roof of the restaurant. The owner came out and thanks to the one (in 17) Italian speaking member of our party, it was agreed that we would eat outside.
We assembled around a long, L shaped table and with the help of our Italian speaking friend, we ordered a metric crap-ton of food and wine. As I have mentioned in prior trip reports about Italy, dinner is an all night affair, with course after course of deliciousness, stretched out over several hours.
Just around the time that our entrees came out, the sun was just going down and the festive patio lights and candles on the table were lit. This was also about the time that the cat came down off the roof and started to prowl around the guests, looking for scraps. Seeing the cat on the ground, close up, it was evident that he was either not well, very old or both. He was skinny and rickety and he moved a little slowly. It wasn't until he walked away from our table that I saw what was really going on. His rear end area was bulging out and it had a strange green hue. It looked like he was smuggling grapes in his ass and someone had spray painted the area for emphasis. It was at that moment that my son exclaimed "Look at that cat! He has a knotted anus!".
It was such a astute observation, that it became the unofficial battle cry of our week in Tuscany. Every cat that we saw after that, we would simply point and say "knotted anus". So now, when I look across the conference table at a particularly bitter and uncooperative coworker, with their lips pursed in pruney discontent, I am reminded of that unfortunate cat's backside and I giggle, on the inside. Hey, I'm a professional here. A professional child, but a professional, none the less.
And there's your anus. Have a fabulous weekend and be sure to let me know about anyone that you know whose face reminds you of a diseased cat butt.