Advice

Well dearies, it's been an interesting few weeks. It seems like the last thing that I remember is 4/20. Which for those of you that don't know is a horrid little holiday celebrated by the less desirable members of society. I usually require a few days off after 4/20, because my arm is so sore from slapping those odd little cigarettes out of hippie-hands. Just say nope to dope, Dear Ones!
Where was I? Oh yes. This year, however has been a little bit different. After that, you see, a gentleman offered to make me his fifth wife! I know, how exciting, you say! I must say I was left speechless by the offer. I think that he had already divorced wives one through four, although you can never be quite sure about these things.
Now, what can I say? I was flattered. To think, this gentleman wanted me to watch him, and I quote "drink myself to death like my Father and Grandfather". After telling me that he had only 7 DUI's (that's when adults drive after they have too many Happy Adult Drinks, just like Paris Hilton!) I could hardly see how I could refuse. Yet something held me back. I don't know if it is that on a scale of one to alcoholic he seemed to surpass even my own dear "You'd do anything for a beer except get off the couch to get it your own damn-self" ex, or the fact that I suspect his next pick-up line might be "You know, CSI can't really match Duct-Tape tears as well as they say on TV".
Seriously, though, the gentleman was very persistent in his advances! So persistent, in fact, that I have been incommunicado for several weeks. Keeping the old phone lines clear to call the local constabulary, doncha know! So if you wondered what took me out of pocket THIS time, well, what can I say? But I was traveling around, avoiding a person who was just, umm, what can I say? Oh yes, STALKING Me!
Here are some notes for you sweet children to remember:

• Two of the three pick-up lines I mentioned were actually used by this person. Please don't use them; they weren't as effective as they sounded.


• if a woman (or even a man) doesn't answer the fifth time in an evening you bang on their door and ask them to service you, consider packing it in for the night.


• calling someone a "Freak" as part of a sexual proposition is not as effective as you might think. Oh that's right! I almost forgot about your abstinence pledges!


• Listen carefully for the sound of a pistol cocking when you are peering through the peephole to determine if the person you are "courting" is home. If you hear that, chances are the "special someone" whom you've been following might not be in an entertaining mood!

The most awkward part is this: this has never happened to me before. I was taken aback, flabbergasted and speechless because of the joy I felt at such attention. I realize that other women have had the pleasure of this type of attention, but let's just say I'm not used to someone trying to jump to the head of the "Uncle" line, especially considering my widely-known penchant for meting out physical discipline. I guess slapping a man until he cries just doesn't have quite the deterrent effect that it used to. I blame Hollywood for that.
So who does your Sweet Auntie turn to in times of confusing existential crises? Why my Highland Spiritual Advisor, of course!
By Highland Spiritual Advisor, I of course refer to a large man of Scots-American descent who has on several occasions ripped bathroom fixtures out of pub walls when it was discovered that the drink-specials had ended for the evening. A man who is truly in touch with his inner Scotsman. My very own Darling Roommate (who's really not in the same city I am, since I moved. Otherwise there would be one stalker in a Bodycast right now!)
So I approached the Holy-Man of the Heather with my humble request: O beefy-one, how should I repay the unexpected kindness of this stranger?
His granite brow furrowed in thought. I wondered what the reply would be: "A fusillade of gunfire" or perhaps "two pit-bulls wouldn't leave much of a body to dispose of" or even "Once you cuff him to the bed, you can pretty much do what you want."
But although those answers are certainly useful, and applicable, they are too simple for such an enlightened soul. His only relply: "Fire the fields and steal the sheep."
Hmmmmm. I immediately began pondering this reply (the first thought, I hate to admit, was "I gave you a fifth of scotch for THIS BS?").
Are the fields the metaphysical fields of our struggles against others unrealistic expectations? The bitter harvest of millennia of misogyny? Or did he mean the actual grass border in front of my apartment? And what sheep am I taking? The sheep of fear that would herd through my brain? The woolly harvest of hate brought on by rap videos? Or should I just shear my head and become a Buddhist nun?
Angered, I raised my hand to strike the inebriated Brahmin. As I rained blows upon his pointy (and I must say concrete) head, a smile played upon his lips. "Now you have taken your power back; now you will prevail." Of course, at about that point, he lost consciousness.
Realization slowly dawned on me. He was talking about empowering myself to deal with the problem! He wanted ME to arm myself spiritually and physically to resist: to call the police and if necessary physically defend myself. To keep some random drunken jackass who thinks I have a nice ass from stealing my life!
So, today I begin looking for self-defense classes in my area. I'm turning on my lights and TV when I get home. If the man who thinks he's my future ex-husband shows up tonight to bang on my door, then all he will hear is the speed-dial of my telephone calling the police. And maybe the sound of wooden ruler being hauled from my drawer, ready for a beating that he won't soon forget.
And I'm buying a fifth of scotch for one slightly-bruised spiritual adviser.

Or at least I think that I did.
Since I don't really remember what I did last night, I thought I would take this opportunity to tell you Dearies about the evils of Drinking Too Much.
Since obviously I didn't do anything that I would regret, I will share with you a cautionary tale about a man that we'll call "George B."
See kids, when he was younger, George B. lived a very wild life. He even got (and got hushed up) at least one, possibly more DWI's (that's when an adult gets too happy at a bar or a meeting of the Skull and Bones Society, then goes for a drive and mows down a couple of pedestrians.)
Fortunately, George was ok, and his father, who was also named George, was able to call some friends, and through a combination of hard work and impassioned pleading (don't let a cynic tell you that it was bribery and intimidation) was able to get the nice officers to forget about the incident until after the 2000 elections. This goes with George W. Bush's longstanding policy of ignoring youthful indiscretions, where 30 is youthful. Unless you're an evil pothead, that is. Actually, unless you're an evil pothead not named "George W. Bush".
Now some of you may say that at least Uncle Dick's never had any problems with that sort of thing. I'm sorry to tell you, Dearies, that Uncle Dick did have a couple of problems with it, but that is back when he was 21 and 22. Now we know what those "Other Priorities" were that kept him from serving in Vietnam.
But take a page from their playbooks, Dearies. George no longer drinks, and he's happier for it. How happy? Just look at this video of him at a wedding, 6 years AFTER he stopped drinking. See how relaxed and happy he is? And Dear Ones, that is a NATURAL high!
So remember kids, don't drink. Or you might wind up like poor George B!

I know Dear Ones. During my absence you all had the same question: Auntie Willow, What about your plans for World Domination?
So I thought I would spend a few moments to help you catch up.
Ok, first off, I want to apologize: I already promised Rhode Island to somebody. I know a lot of you really wanted it, especially after that show Providence, but somebody asked me on a good day, and well, it's gone. Sorry. Have you considered Akron, OH?
Well, as you know, I have a constantly updated list of things that I need for world domination. Some of the "items" have already been acquired. They're not all physical things; some are conditions that need to be met for the plan to work.
Now please, Dear Ones, I know that my plan will be painfully transparent once I show you what's on my "shopping list", but don't spread it around! I'm tired of Super-Agents dropping down from the trees when I'm having my morning Latte on my back porch. There are few things I hate more than having to change out of my favorite skirt because I got some British Super-Spy's blood on it!
Anyway, let's take a look at what I have on my list.

• One Wooden Ruler

Ok, this one is self-explanatory. I don't really "need" this per se, but what good is running the world if you can't carry your favorite Ruler along? Note to self Should it be one foot long? Maybe I should redo both English Standard and Metric systems when I take over. Something more, I don't know, Willowcentric perhaps. You know, that's not a bad idea. I like the sound of "Jawohl, Munchen is 174 Willowmeters from here."


• MoonBased Laser Death Array

Right, have the Laser Death Array, but still don't have the Moon Base. Been talking with those hippies over at Virgin Galactic, getting tired of washing the stench of patchouli off my clothes after every meeting. Really, do I HAVE to pay to ship the damned thing to New Mexico? Can't you just pick it up at my island lair? I mean, COME ON, It's a SPACESHIP! It can get there, you know?


• Artist

Now this one I had crossed off of my list on Wednesday night. I'm not totally sure why, I was out late having a "one year" wake for somebody. Long and the short of it is that I don't really remember who the artist is supposed to be, there's something scrawled in my notebook…Is that a name? A number? Did I invent an artificial intelligence artist while drinking? Oh well, when I'm in the system wiping the security tapes of the places that I think that I went too, then I'll review them first and see if I can't figure it out. But if I can truly cross this one off, then cool. You can't rule the world without truly inspired graphics and a mega-neat logo.


• Island Lair

And


• Worshipped as a Goddess in the South Pacific

Ok, I kind of mentioned the Island Lair above, and the Goddess part really just dovetails with this. So there's this place, right, called Wapa-Wui. It's really nice, no, I don't want to give you the GPS coordinates. The only problem is that instead of being worshipped as the Goddess of Beauty and Sunrise, they started calling me the "Mother of Lies" (it was really just a big misunderstanding). Anyway, I got sick of them not accepting my apologies, so I caused their Volcano to explode, infested the island with chiggers (a small biting insect) and signed them up to one of those "Collectible Plate of the Month" clubs. If you see an ashy, itchy islander holding a "Spock" limited edition plate, you have my permission to smile at my handiwork.
Now on the décor of the hideaway, I have decided to not carve my face on the volcanic hideaway. For one thing, the islanders need some time to recover, and another thing, if I decide to get a nose job they tell me it's harder to work the stone without accidentally knocking off the nose. OOOOHHH! If that happened, those Islanders would PAY!!!


• Learn to play Baccarat

Hey, Auntie is hip! I know that I will be obliged to hang out at Monte Carlo Casinos. But let's face it: those British Agents will clean your CLOCK at that game if you're not careful!

Well, that's really all of the settled part of the list. There are other things that I put on it and take off of it, depending on my whims. For example, I've contemplated learning Tantric Sex, but, no offense to my dear friends; for the most part they just aren't attractive enough. The army of genetically modified Super-soldiers gets taken off every time I watch that fashion designer show on Bravo. I mean I can't have them running around naked (against library policy, doncha know), and I'm NOT going to deal with one of those prima donnas on designing just the right uniform. At least on Wapa Wui the grass skirt was settled on long before I got there.

Dear Ones,
I hope that you still love your Auntie Willow!
I know that I promised you more time after finishing my magnum opus, Put Word On Your Resume Quick!. But there is a second book in the works. One that isn't just about stupid old Computer products.
And it is almost done!
It a lot shorter than the first one, and will feature my fine artwork. I will have it finished by the end of this week, and post-production will be completed by the middle of next week.
I promise.
And then I will spend more time with you, I promise!
I don't want you to think that I break promises to you, like that lush of a mother or that worthless father of yours (not strangling him when we were children is yet another testament to my enduring saintliness).
I don't want to think of your little eyes filling with tears. You know that I live a complicated life, Dearies. I really WAS having dinner that night with the Sultan of that Country that I can't remember how to spell. I promise that I'll tell you about it someday when we can have some "Adult Conversation". Right now it would just lead to too many questions that would take too long to explain; you're much too young, Dear Ones!
You see, I do think of you often. Many times when I'm providing corrective discipline to a Republican (why do they always beg me for it) I think instead of you. That's why I'm smiling when I'm spanking, Sweet Ones, not because I enjoy doing it.
Every time I see your Uncle Dick attempting to smile at the camera, the chill I feel is fear for you, not for me. Especially after what he did to your Cousin Timmy. You didn’t know you had a Cousin Timmy? Well, technically, you don't anymore. No, no, I don't want to give you nightmares. That's more conversation we'll have when you get older. Let's just say I'm sure that Uncle Dick needed all six quarts of blood to perform his important duties in that dreadful un-disclosed location, but I digress.
I just wanted to let you know that I haven't forgotten about you, and that great times are on the way sooner than you know, and that if you see Uncle Dick walking to your front door, run!

Dearies, I don't want you to be scared.
But I too share the President's fears. I'm not sure how I can discuss this with you without alarming you, and you know Auntie Willow doesn't want to give you nightmares (I mean I have a big bed, but I'm not sure we'd all fit in it if you couldn't sleep), but I HAVE to discuss this with you.
That's right, the danger of Human/Animal Hybrids.
As our Beloved President stated last night, this menace is out there. No wonder they have been forced to secretly eavesdrop on us. No wonder they need to see what we've checked out of the Library ("Well, Special Agent Nosebody, it appears he's checked out 'Gene Splicing for Dummies' and 'Curious George'." "Good God, Woman, it might be the end of us all!").
But although I support the President fully in this matter, and agree it should be one of the TOP PRIORITIES (well, top 5000 priorities), I'm scared that it is already too late.
You see, sources have told me that there is already at least one Human/Animal Hybrid walking among us. He could be standing behind you even now.
According to an Anonymous Source (shout out to Cletus at the NIH), There were several experiments with this after the end of WWII (that's World War II, or "Not the Big One, but the other Big One"). Given the natural Soviet edge in the hirsute women category, American Scientists dreamed of creating an Esther Williams clone that would be able to also keep up with Tarzan in the prehensile toe department.
For their first experiment, they crossed a Congressman with a Howler Monkey. The project was considered a massive failure; the result had the brains of a Congressman and the gravitas of a Howler Monkey. Since the offspring was deficient in both intelligence and charisma, the project was abandoned. Unfortunately the resultant creature escaped into the wilds of Midwest Texas.
I should point out that although this unholy offspring still roams free, apparently all parties went on to lead happy lives. The Congressman was later elected to the highest office in the land. The Howler Monkey became, I am told, an Undersecretary at the Bureau for Indian Affairs.
The fate of the product of their unholy union is still a mystery. According to my sources it went on to be a cheerleader at Andover and a member of the Skull and Bones Society at Yale University (admitted as a legacy student, although my sources didn't divulge if it was a legacy of the Father or the Monkey). After that, the trail grows cold.
I am fairly sure that it is still alive, however. All I have been able to ascertain is the first name and middle initial it was given at birth. The first name is George, after its father the Congressman, and W, after its mother, Wahoo the Howler Monkey.
If you come across this mysterious "GW" somewhere in the wild, please do not approach it. Immediately contact your local animal control. Just tell them that the President's worst nightmare has come true.
May the big G (that's George Bush, silly, not God) help us all.

Dear Ones,
Just a brief little sharing for today, I'm still tuckered out with fixing Canadian Parliamentary Democracy over the last two days.
I'm not sure if it was the research, the computers, the nicotine patch or all that cough syrup, but I had the oddest dream last night.
An elderly gentleman in ecclesiatical robes with a booming voice was bellowing accusations at me:
"Auntie Willow, you stand accused of wanton, salacious, lewd, lascivious, libertine, licentious, depraved, debauched, prurient, debased and immoral acts of every stripe. Do you really think when you stand before the THRONE on Judgement Day that your lifestyle will be justified?"

Me:(pause)Uhhhh. Yeah. Totally!

Anyway, back tomorrow with some updates on what is going on in Kuwait. Remember them? They just lost an Emir, if that brief snippet that got through the Katie Holmes' pregnancy buzz was any indication.
XXOO
Auntie

My Lovely Dear Ones,
It is so good to hear from you again.
One day I'm going to go to wherever KWTIA is and dispense largesse that would be worthy of Jack Abramoff!
Not to mention sweet Gary sweltering in Canada (don't worry Dearie, if it is too cold, GW Bush will help to make sure that it warms up for you. If not, then my 2 small kids, 3 cars and an SUV neighbors will!).
You really missed me! (sniffff) No, I'm fine, I'm just, touched.
I'm also, as they say in the south, "Tetched" (note to our international readers: "Tetched" is supposed to sound almost like touched. It means "Touched in the Head". And not in a good way. In a way that leaves you , shall we say, with impaired faculties. An example in a sentence is "Ahh think that Paris Hilton's Tetched". This sentence would be followed by other people nodding seriously and saying things like "Bless his heart" and "God love him", which is what people in the South say when they can't say anything else nice about somebody).
So, I will now proceed with my New Year's Resolutions. I know I made resolutions for my Birthday, but everyone else was making them, so I couldn't resist.

• Be meaner to most Republicans.


• Randomly throw Sombrero's (a type of Mexican Hat) on the roofs of prominent local conservative politicians. No threats, no nothing, just 6 or 7 cheap straw hats on their roof. I don't think that constitutes any kind of threat.


• Volunteer for the Democrats. Goodness knows they need it, otherwise they might choke again this year, and we can't ALL move to Canada!


• Follow (and write about) Canadian Politics More. When I found out they were throwing out the liberals for 1.2 million (Canadian!), I got upset. DeLay didn't get out of bed for only 1.2 million Canadian! Geez, they're about to elect their own brand of authoritarian free-traders up there for an amount of money that the RNC steals just to buy paper plates! Besides, if I do have to flee the country, it would behoove me to at least pretend to know something about the country I'm begging asylum from. I know that learning about foreign lands is un-American, but if a country inflicts us with Jim Carrey AND Alan Thicke, then we need to know more about them!


• Learn to ride a Unicycle. I don't get what good they are, but I might need the skill if I'm penniless in Europe after two more years of GW Bush. I understand that you can make at least SOME money in Amsterdam if you can juggle chainsaws while topless on a unicycle. Ummm. Actually, I'm thinking I might delete this from the list. On second thought, it might not only be injurious to my figure, but it might constitute legal proof that I'm "Tetched".

Woops! Gotta run! I'll post more as I remember more about my New Year's Eve!

Well,
First off I'd like to thank KWTIA for the nice birthday wishes.
I'd also like to thank Gary and the other Canadians for being, well, so darned nice!
I always treat my birthdays as a combination Thanksgiving and New Year's Day rolled into one. It is a day for reflection on the year that I had, giving thanks for the good, and thinking about what I need to do in the coming year, in a positive light.
The final count for the period starting with my last birthday: One Bankruptcy, one Divorce (filed for, not finalized), 2 family deaths, and One in-law death.
But that isn't necessarily bad, this was a chance for tremendous growth, and I do feel like I've grown.
For the good things, I've lost 30 pounds, enjoyed the company of great friends, learned to appreciate my remaining family (we're getting smaller, but we're also getting better!), and, this sounds odd, but I appreciate my finances. Don't get me wrong, I'm broke (Librarians aren't necessarily "overcompensated"), but this time last year, I was broke AND in debt, this year I'm just broke! That might sound like scant comfort, but you have to understand that this is actually a huge step forward. A tremendous step forward, it means that I don't wake up with the same anxiety that I used to feel everyday. All in all, a year to be thankful for. The support and love of friends and family cannot be overvalued, it makes the difference between a good year and a bad year.
And after today at work, I start 6 days off. It has been years since your Dear Auntie hasn't spent all of her vacation visiting or caring for sick relatives (actually, Spring of 1998). The next few posts from me are likely to be a cross between Hunter S. Thompson (we were at the edge of the reference stacks when the drugs took hold. I heard a voice shouting "where did all these bats come from?") and Lord Byron ("Ode to Dissipation and Debauchery").
I plan to enjoy myself. I think that a wide variety of intoxicants (of varying legality) will put the perfect spin on this holiday season.
As for resolutions, I'm still working on quitting smoking. I resolve to post more mean-spirited political diatribes. I promise to make the Infinite Lattes Graphics Department work more. I promise to provide vital "Correction" to more Republicans. I have more weight to lose (not too much, but it is physically impossible for a woman of my weight to die of anorexia. This I swear to you!)
So right now I need to get cleaned up for my Birthday Workday (contrary to my resolution to lose weight, I hope there is cake involved). Tonight I begin celebrating, and then I'm going to find a Republican or two to, umm, have "Special Playtime" with. I hope there is a College Republican convention in town, you know they can't resist a tall woman with nice cheekbones abusing them.
For the record, I am (what did I say before, 21?) 22 (or something). Some of you would point out that means that I was 12 when I embarked on my soon-to-be-officially-terminated Marriage, but your Auntie was always mature for her age.
Enjoy your day, and you have Auntie's express permission to celebrate today like it was your own Birthday!

Well, Sweet Ones, Auntie Willow is going to give you some advice today.
You see, Auntie has several relatives who are have birthdays during this time of year, and it is always a chance to review any words of wisdom to pass on.

• Always have dry socks on hand. It is impossible to "look cool" when you are catching a chill. Wet socks can also lead to blisters, which can be painful. Your Auntie is very conscious of foot health now that it is too late for her. Wearing Stiletto Heels for so long (usually only during "Special Playtime") has left my feet in terrible shape. Which is why I am saving money to have a team of strong, bare-chested young men carry me around in a Sedan Chair when I am older.


• Always tell the Judge if your attorney is drunk. Take it from your Auntie Willow, it is easy to get an immediate mistrial than it is to use it as a grounds for appeal. Especially if you have to beat another "rap" for shanking your cell-mate Teeny because the bitch gets into your cigarettes.


• Always tie up loose ends when involved in a Land War in Asia. Your Auntie has been after Uncle Scooter and Uncle Karl to do just this. She keeps telling them but they don't listen. They never ask for directions when we are lost, either, so it should come as no surprise.


• Men never carry condoms. I'm not talking about when they are in High School and they carry one "Just In Case". I'm talking about when they know there is to be a tryst, and they show up empty-handed. There is no counting the number of men I've had to perform "Extra Discipline" because of this one simple thing (actually there is counting, but I refuse to reveal the number. It is not germane to the discussion). Young Ladies, you will just have to carry your own. Young men, you should be ashamed.

Well, hopefully these words of wisdom will help you all in the coming days. Some of them are a bit too "mature" for the young man who's birthday party Auntie is attending tonight, but they might help you, and that would make me very happy, Dear Ones.