If you’re a follower of The Midnight Goose, you probably read a little story about yours truly getting hopped up on caffeine and going a little…crazy. When I’m working on hardly any sleep and I try to counteract that with coffee, I do some weird shit. And it’s all annoying as hell. The personality that comes out is one that I refer to as “Coot-Coot”. Why? ‘Cause I say it a lot when I’m wired and tired.
“Coot-Coot” is another way of saying “Cooter”. “Cooter” can be a man’s nickname, but it also refers to the vaginal area of a woman. Take that as you will. When I turn into “Coot-Coot”, I tend to proclaim things like “I AM THE LEPRECHAUN!” or “I AM THE KING OF THE SEA!” or “I KNOW WHERE THEY HID JIMMY HOFFA’S BODY!” No. It doesn’t make sense…but here we are. Proclaiming that you know where Jimmy Hoffa’s body is in the middle of a crowded Starbucks may get you a visit from the police, though, so keep that in mind. The worst thing is, you never know when “Coot-Coot” will show up when I’m over-caffeinated, or if he’ll even show up at all. Sometimes the caffeine does absolutely nothing for my weariness–and since I’m naturally sloth-like to begin with–caffeine can actually make me even more lethargic. I don’t really have a name for that personality, but I have a feeling that the name probably begins with an “F”. I don’t make the rules, this is just how things are. Besides, is there really any rhyme or reason for what happens when our bodies are under the influence of substances that can alter us?
It runs in my family.
One time, for absolutely no reason, while my sister, myself, and two of our friends were in a Walmart (in the middle of the night), my sister started doing human barrel rolls, somersaults and flips through the chip and dip aisle. Egged on by her complete nonsense, I ended up asking perfect strangers if they smelled something funny and when they said “no”, I’d make a weird face, wait for a second, and then say “How about now?” The whole thing culminated with the four of us with pylons from the automotive department performing a Madonna number. To no one’s enjoyment. Somehow, some way, we didn’t get thrown out. Fortunately for humanity, my sister is now a respectable woman with a child and doesn’t pull any such nonsense anymore. At least in public.
However, I may have gotten worse as I have gotten older. Maybe it’s because I’m too old to give an eff about anything. If I won the lottery, I still couldn’t afford to buy an eff. “Coot-Coot”, The Leprechaun, The King of the Seas–they’ve all been parts of my personality for so long that I just can’t shake them. And when you get older, your body reacts to things like caffeine in more severe ways, so it just exacerbates my assholicity. It’s a word. Don’t challenge me. I just added it to my Grammarly dictionary…so it is written, so shall it be.
So, without further ado–here are some of the things I’ve done that will show you that “Coot-Coot” is a valid expression of who I am as a person. When I’m on caffeine. Or drunk. Or tired. Or just plain bored.
I also have a tendency to send pictures of myself in bathtubs to friends–as if anyone wants to see that. Don’t worry, they’ve all been PG. Although, my body is gross, so most would probably say they’re R-Rated at best.
And, FYI – if you’re a guy on a road trip with me, and you fall asleep in the car, don’t get an erection in your sleep. I will take a picture–and 6 months later when I give you a scrapbook of the trip for Christmas–that picture will be included.*
So, feel free to share your own “Coot-Coot” moments with everyone in the comments section.
*I had actually drunk four 20oz. Sugar-Free Red Bull energy drinks when this event occurred. Why I saved it and put it in the scrapbook gift cannot be explained by caffeine overdose, however. And my lawyers** said to say that this event only “allegedly” happened and that I cannot share the “alleged” picture.
**I don’t have lawyers***.
***Don’t sue me.****
****It’ll be a waste of your resources. I live under a bridge. My only luxury is WiFi.
Until next time…