Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Whenever I Want You, All I Have To Do Is Dreeeeeeeeammm….

1) Yesterday I had waaay more spam comments than real. So Sergei, in his wisdom, got me hooked up to Haloscan last night. So the bottom comment links (including ‘Speak!’) are Haloscan now. Ooh, and eXTReMe Tracking, which I’m finding endlessly fascinating (‘cause it looks like work-related information) and Sergei warned me not to get too obsessed with it.

2) The Boy-Child had a great idea last night for a new product. Butt-Mints. For when yer butt has that not-so-fresh feeling. Great idea! I suppose an Altoid would fit up there, but I’m thinking a ‘special butt-formula’ would be better. I’m also thinking these products would be good:

a) Expando-Legs. I’m 5’6”, and Sergei is 6’3”. He can reach way more stuff than I can. I think it would be great to strap on some bionic legs in the morning, sort of like drywallers use but collapsible, and walk around at my normal height until I need to be taller for just a minute or two. Flip a switch…brrrr…up I go!...the Expando-Legs make me 8 feet tall!...and I flip another switch and…bzzzzz…go back down.

b) X-Ray Contacts. Looks like regular contacts but lets me see through walls. And college boys jeans.

c) Period Power-Flush. Okay, the Angry Red Aunt stays for 7 days. It’s just TOO long. I want a machine, like a power-washer, to gently slide inside my snoopy and with all care and concern, flush that period out in a few hours. It’s okay if I have to be drunk first to dull the irritation.

3) I had a plethora (a plethora!) of dreams last night which I actually remembered in great detail. That’s weird for me.

Sergei and the kids and I volunteered to be on one of those PBS shows where you go back in time and live like the Pilgrims or Prairie folk, only we had to go live with the Amish, but just for a couple days. The kids liked the clothes, but not the chores. The camera guys followed us everywhere, and I tried to give them as many butt-shots as possible. Sergei worked behind a plow the whole time, so the kids and I went out lookin’ around, with some Amish tour-guide woman, and went into a shop that sold various kinds of sausages. Thing is, they cooked the sausages for you and then you bought it and took it home and ate it. We bought two pounds of two different sausages, and the lady selling it to us thought we were crazy to ‘mix our sausages’…hmmm?? Then we went back to the Amish house and the kids were bored (“Do we have to be Amish?”), and the PBS guys decided to switch the cast, so they cast Orange and her Ben as my family (Ben was a baby, about 2 months old). And then WE went and bought sausages at the same place. Then I noticed that beside the sausage place was a 7-11…in Amish country?

Then the dream changed and I was driving Pepa (or was it Salt?) from Salt-N-Pepa around in Amish country, looking for burritos. So where did we go? The 7-11 behind the sausage place. Then Salt (or was it Pepa?) turned into Pisser, and we ate burritos.

Then the dream changed again and I was driving Chris Rock around Amish country. We were going on a date. (Why Chris Rock? The last time I saw him in anything was ‘Elmopalooza’. It’s Sesame Street. Go with me, here.) Chris and I had a date, and I picked him up in this Hummer Limo. I drove. He wanted to take me to a play and to dinner. Instinctively, I drove him to the 7-11 place for burritos, but he thought a sit-down place would be nicer. So we drove to a restaurant where fancy-schmancy folks could drive their vehicles inside. Which I did. Chris got a table and we sat down and started drinking wine and chatting. I looked up and Sergei was there with the kids, just makin’ sure I was okay with Chris. I smiled and waved and got back to my date.

Then the dream started winding down, and Rob Helpy-Chalk and I were guys doing our Fantasy Football Picks. Doin’ that guy razzing thing, that ‘you fucking bastard’ thing that guys do, sort of like when my friend V and I call each other ‘slut’ when we see each other. We got all up in each other’s faces and wrangled and haggled and drank lots of IPA and watched some sporting thing, not football, something with bloodshed and riots…rugby…soccer…something.

Then the alarm went off.

Sausage, anyone?


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