Dream Weaver...

Thursday Night
A work dream. Sort of. I'm currently carless, so a friend/coworker picks me up on the way into the office in the morning since I'm lucky enough to live just down the street.
In my dream, I wake up for work only to find I've overslept, and Kate's supposed to be at my house to snag me any minute. It's still dark outside (which doesn't ever happen since I don't have to be at work until 9am). My house is not My House; AKA it looks nothing like Childs Street where I actually live. I have this big kitchen, and I use the back door instead of the front, apparently, because I never see any other room of my house. I have a GIANT backyard with a fence running around it and some floodlights lighting it up. It's pretty reminiscent of the field at Terrapin. When I look out the back, there are a bunch of people out there hang gliding. In my backyard. In the dark. (WTF?) I'm frantically running around trying to be ready before Kate gets there and I make us late for work. I try to call her to warn her that I just woke up but she doesn't answer. Then she is knocking on my door, I'm still in my PJs, since this whole time I guess I've been doing nothing but trying to figure out what is going on behind my house. I let her in and apologize for running late, and then say that maybe she should text Tammy (our other coworker/department head) and let her know we're running behind and that we'll be in shortly. Kate says that Tammy already knows we're going to be late because Kate had planned on us doing some hang gliding before we went in and Tammy had said that that was fine. But then Kate says that she doesn't know if we'll have time for hang gliding because she forgot to do her experiment the night before and the results are due today. She asks to use my kitchen, which I let her do, and she proceeds to dig through all these clear beakers and tubes and stuff on this wire rack in my kitchen, asking if I have a really long graduated cylinder. (Most of the stuff there actually looks like the clear plastic pieces you can use to make a hamster/gerbil habitat...) She finds something that will work, and puts together this big thing connecting all the pieces, and pours this thick yellow solution into one end and starts heating it up with a Bunsen burner. I ask her which experiment this is, and she says "It's my Lemon Yeast experiment". The stuff starts boiling and running through the contraption. What I guess is the yeast itself sticks to a bend in the tubing, and the liquid runs out the other end, clear now. Then Kate says she doesn't know what this means since she doesn't know too much about yeast and says we're going to have to wait for Spike to get there and help her figure it out. And that now we really won't have time for hang gliding. Which is still going on in my backyard. Then Spike shows up, says some crap I don't remember about the yeast and Kate writes it down, and says she might have to do the experiment again because she might have missed a step. Spike goes out to join the hang gliding, and while cleaning up the experiment pieces Kate calls Tammy and tells her we are going to come in to work now. Tammy says she's decided to come over and go hang gliding too, so it's cool if we just stay at my house for now. It's still dark. I go to get dressed so we can hang glide, and then I wake up.

Saturday Night
I've made plans to go visit my dad in Cincinnati. Of course, being a dream, time and space are irrelevant, so I go to sleep after announcing my intentions to visit the Queen City, and wake up in my dad's house. Only it's not the house he lives in now. It's the house I grew up in. 11128 Mulligan Street, Sharonville, OH 45241. (513) 554-0378. It's a lovely warm spring morning. The place looks pretty much the same; the Grippo truck is still there, the two maple trees in the front yard, the floor plan is dead-on.  Differences are the lack of cats or dogs (my dad always claimed to be 'done' with pets, but until he left that house he always had at least one and I know he cried when he had to have our samoyed Kodi euthanized). The crabapple tree that was in the backyard when I was little is still there, but it's much larger than it ever got before my dad cut it down. Also, there is some huge building being built directly behind the property. When I ask Dad what it is, he doesn't know. When I ask what they did with the houses that used to be there, he says they are still there, including the residents, inside the new cinderblock walls, that he guesses they will eventually be torn down. Hanging from the eave on the back of the house are a bunch of baskets with almost full-size pumpkins growing in them. I ask if those are Mom's hanging baskets, he says yes. I ask if he knew she planted pumpkins in them, he says he hasn't looked at them since she left. (In this dream, I'm an adult. My mom moved out in 1987). So we go out to look at the pumpkins. Then he decides to show me his current garden. There is half of it on the side of the house (the neighbor's house- Ray and Joan Peltzel, or maybe it was Pelzel; Ray died years ago, I can't imagine Joan is still alive- is now 10 feet further from our house and on a higher plot of land so there is a little embankment) with flowers and something weird I have forgotten growing already. He had planted stuff all the way up the little hill, so there wasn't anywhere to walk. He just walked over the garden to show me stuff. Then he showed me the garden in the backyard. It was in the same spot his garden always was. He thought it was doing pretty well, but didn't want to get closer than 5 feet away or so because he thought his peppers were a little weak and didn't want to scare them away. (?) His garden was packed with plants; hardly any spacing. All different colors of peppers, and big plants that I guess were his tomatoes. Big heads of lettuce. He said he was concerned that when they finished building the giant building (seriously; this thing went for blocks) it would block his sunlight and he'd have to find another place for the garden. How odd that this dream focused on his garden? Then, like every morning, I am awakened by a cat that thinks he's absolutely wasting away because there were fewer than 14 pieces of food on his plate, the equivalent of a Feline Famine.

Island Of The Alive

Well then. Sure has been a while. I didn't actually forget about this blog, but for a while it's not exactly been at the forefront of my thoughts.

Damn, I used to have all sorts of crap to say. Most was just drivel, but still I had no issues with opening the old brain-spigot fully and letting the word diarrhea commence. So how is it that I finally return after more than three months, sign in, and....

nothing.

There is currently not one single smart-ass comment waiting in the wings. No rants against my fellow humanoids. No bad puns or horribly offensive stories or jokes which would allow me to use obscene amounts of profanity. There was stuff in mind before, I promise. Stuff I had planned on writing about. This and that and the other. Where the hell did those bastards go off to??

Have I lost it? My knack for the real,  for my no-added-sugar commentary on my surroundings, my ability to spout off whilst simultaneously boring the ever-living shit out of 50% of you and making 30% of you giggle at least once? (You other 20%... get your hand out of your pants. This is not the blog for that). Or do I just need to drink more beer?

You be the judge.

'Cause I'm back. And by {insert choice of higher power here}, I'm gonna write some shit.

Look out, people.

This may be odd, but based on your writing alone, I wish there was some way I could grant you three of your birthday wishes. I think I would only be able to honor three out of the seven because I only have one car and I can't guarantee that it's tick free

I would never take your only car. Which three? A single tick-infested car eliminates one, but leave six to choose from!

Ask me anything

They say that 30 is the new 20...

This Saturday is my 30th birthday. I didn't think I'd care, but now that it looms less than 5 days away, I realize I do. I'm freaking out a little. A lot. I don't know. Not about being old or anything like that, but about the fact that at this point it's entirely possible I may never get a few of the things I wanted in my life. Some things have time limits. I guess it's the beginning of coming to terms with dreams lost. And trying not to wonder why others somehow 'deserve' those things more than I, since that is how I often feel. It's stupid and unfounded, I know. But that's how it is. You see things drift out of touch, and wonder what you did wrong. What you did to deserve losing out. And what the hell those people did to be better than you and deserve it more. Blah. Anyway.

My mom called today while I was at work. Left a message. She thought I called her last night... Nope. I did leave her a message about a month ago, so I guess it was that message she just got. In the message she said she went and visited my grandmother out in Arizona recently; my grandmother moved there this past springtime. That's cool. But part of me wonders how she found the time to go to Arizona (from McDonough) when she's been too busy the past 4 years to make it to Athens for one day... such is life, though.

WHAT I WANT FOR MY BIRTHDAY

• A car. My requirements are few. Decent running condition. Heat/air. A radio. No missing windows. And no parasitic infestations. Being filled with ticks is totally a deal-breaker.
•  A massage. My muscles hate me.
• Someone else to throw me a birthday party. I've had one party/gathering my entire life (no exaggeration- never had a kid's party), and I organized it. For my 27th. And at the end of the night, a number of people skipped out on their open tabs, and I ended up shelling out an extra hundred bucks to buy their dinner and drinks. Not cool. Happy birthday to me.
• People to just actually commit to coming to a birthday gathering I try to put together so I don't just stay home and get hammered alone. Which is very tempting.
• A new wardrobe. I've been wearing the same shit for 6 years. Some things longer. I need someone with some style to help me out, too. I got fashion-issues.
• To not owe anyone money.
• Finding a super-awesome man-friend wouldn't be too shabby, either. Notice I didn't say boyfriend. I'm sick to death of 25-35 year old boys. 

WHAT I WILL NOT GET FOR MY BIRTHDAY

• All of the above.

WHAT I CAN EXPECT TO GET FOR MY BIRTHDAY 

• BLOTTO. Yes, sir. Whether it be out with some folks, or home with my cats. It will happen.
• Bills in my mailbox. Those come every day. Except Sunday. Good Christian bills, they are.
• Cat puke somewhere in my house. Another absolute given.
• A phone call from at least one family member. Quite possibly a parent, much less possibly both parents. 
• A year older. No shit, Shirlock, but which leads to...
• More grey hair.
• A raging kill-me-now hangover. It'll be a belated gift, but the magnitude will make up for the tardiness.

Mandatory Once-Monthly Post.

Seems that that's the way it is now... I have been most slack in updating. Just haven't felt like there is a whole lot to say that means anything, at least not to anyone but me. Though hell, I'm the one that reads this thing most often! So I guess it doesn't matter. Maybe I should act like this is Twitter and just post each and every single mundane moment of my life; "Just ate some cereal! Frosted Chocolate Mini-Wheats!!", "Haha! My cat just puked on the floor. Again!", "Man, I just took an immensely satisfying dump. Feel ten pounds lighter! Aahh!". Ok, so maybe not.

More randomness to follow since my creative/sarcastic muses have apparently jumped ship...


Dear Facebook Friends Who (1) Are Engaged or (2) Have Children:

(1) Yes, I know you're excited about your wedding... I'm happy for you and your soulmate! I know you can't wait to not have sex anymore and can't wait to argue about money all the time and are ready to begin the next Chapter of your life that may or may not lead to becoming another statistic and the next Chapter (13) after that... but some of us are single and bitter and jaded and not your besties nor invited to said wedding. So please. Five updates a day about your impending nuptuals are enough. We know. You posted about it yesterday. Congrats and Good Luck! Hopefully it will last forever, with only one visit to marriage counseling. Please stop flooding my newsfeed. It's no longer news.

(2) Yes, your child is the most adorable thing on Earth... I'm so happy you figured out how to procreate! I know you don't have sex anymore and are worried about money because kids are expensive and now you can't afford to ever leave the house and do anything else to occupy your attention and that those cute-ass (disclosure of opinion: usually not) babies are the next Chapter (13?) in your life... but some of us are childless and awkward with babies and not really interested in them at this stage of our lives. So please. Ten posts plus new photos a day about your kid and what it did six minutes ago are enough. We know. You posted about it yesterday. Congrats and Good Luck! Hopefully they'll turn out fairly normally and only have to see a therapist once or twice. Please stop flooding my newsfeed. It's no longer news.

Ok. Now that I've gotten that out of the way and proven myself to be the Town Grump, moving on...

Just added a Portishead station to my Pandora. Was about to go back to Quickmix, but damn I love me some Portishead...

I am in love with my new job. And I really like the folks I work with. For once I feel like I fit in somewhere. Maybe it's because we're all just a little off. But it works. And a mutual love of beer doesn't hurt either!

Halloween is soon! Am I dressing up? What am I going to be? No, really. I have no idea. I suppose I could recycle an old costume... but that's just lazy. Better than nothing at all?

I spent 3 hours today scrubbing the everliving shit out of my stove. It gets dirty really easily, but on top of that it came with some completely cooked-on grease/food/crap when I moved it. It's REALLY old. It honestly could probably use a serious going-over by someone who specializes in older (50+ years...) gas appliances. Sometimes I'm a little worried it might just blow up one morning while I'm frying up some pig. Anyway. Right now it is cleaner and whiter than it has ever been since I've lived here. And now I don't want to cook on it ever again. But I will. And I've decided to give the built-in griddle a try too.

A few weeks ago, I killed an inchworm. It was an accident, but I felt horrible. I had just arrived at work for a closing shift at the Big Box. As I turned off The Trukk, I felt something on my leg. Oh! A cute little green inchworm! Well, I got him on my finger... but this is where things went terribly wrong. I should have taken him over to one of the islands in the parking lot that have a tree and shrubs and whatnot in them. But my dumb ass didn't do that. Instead I thought "I'll put him down right here in the parking lot! Oh, I'll put him under the truck in the shade so he's not in direct sunlight!"
Yeah. Well. Bad idea. See... asphalt that has been in the summer sun is hot. And the shade of a truck that's been parked for a total of one minute doesn't make it much... well, any cooler. So I set him down under the truck and he immediately starts to thrash around, as much as an inchworm can. So then I realize that the asphalt is hot and he's thrashing because he's being cooked alive, so I freak and try to pick him back up.  But he won't crawl back onto my hand, and I can't just pick him up normally because I'll squish him, so I try to roll him into my hand. But he keeps gettting in the damn little crevices and pits in the asphalt, and is still thrashing, and then the wind blows, and he gets blown further under the truck and I can't reach him. So I think I should just squish him now, but can't get to him, and the wind doesn't blow him closer, and so I watch him stop thrashing about a minute later. And I feel like the biggest piece of shit in the world, and am actually tearing up as I walk into work. Bah... craptastic.

One other insect story, since that's turned into today's topic: I accidentally microwaved a fruit fly on my lunch break at the Big Box. I guess he was already in there, and I put in my food and microwaved it on high for 1:45. When I opened it to take out my tupperware, I saw it underneath the clear glass turntable. Walking towards the edge. Then he found the opening and freaking flew away. I thought living things exploded when microwaved. Fruit flies must be like cockroaches... when the Apocalypse and/or Nuclear Holocaust happens and we are all irradicated and incinerated and mutated and whatever else might happen when Four Horsemen and/or Four Warheads show up; mere seconds after impact and before the dust has settled the cockroaches and fruit flies will look at each other and say "Hey! Did you feel that??".

hey....i've had the biggest crush on you for awhile! i don't go on here a lot. but please message me on www.dateanswer.com under the username "wishfulthinker". please don't get all weird. =)

Hmmm.... smells a little spammy, don't you think?

That website leads to some Christian dating website. Yeah. No Christians to be found on this blog. Sorry to disappoint.

Ask me anything

Writer's Block.

 I started this post a week ago. Then forgot about it. Let's finish it, and see what happens...

Seems lately that's what I have. Shit. Not like I generally write anything profound or intensely creative. Usually just bitching and random thoughts. Apparently I haven't even had any of those for the past month-and-a-half. So here I am, writing a post out of necessity.

Oh, ha! Did I say 'necessity'??? None of you need this blog. I thought I did, but evidence is pointing in the opposite direction. Somehow I've become too preoccupied for bitching and moaning and making fun of things. WTF, yo? What is happening to me? There have been no life-changing events; no sudden fairy-tale love or lottery winnings. Just sheer laziness. So you get what follows! Aren't you excited?

A couple weeks ago I was driving on the loop. And I passed a severed deer head. Yeah. What the hell? It wasn't like the head had just gotten whacked loose from a body being nailed by a Ford F-150. It hadn't become maggot feed yet. The skin was almost perfectly intact, and the neck was cleanly cut. This was an actual severed deer head. As in purposefully severed. Someone physically cut the head off a deer, and tossed it onto the side of the loop. What? Really?

It's getting close to Halloween. Well, sort of. In Retail-Land, 'getting close' means the two months (or more)  prior to any holiday. We've had Halloween stuff since Labor Day. Christmas starts showing up next week. Deck The Halls, dude. At work the other day, I had a sudden memory. We have these really obnoxious motion-activated full-size Halloween characters. There is a witch whose eyes blink red and she moves around and says "Welcome to my Hooooommme!' and something else I can't understand. I want to punch it every day. The only fun thing about it is that it has a wireless microphone, and can be set to act as the amplifier- you can hide somewhere and talk through it. And scare the shit out of customers. There is also a 6'5" skeleton dressed in a black frock that laughs or something- I tend to ignore them as best I can. Last year I was working at the return desk one day, and they had the skeleton guy outside on display. I guess the wind kicked up a bit, and it fell over, face down. This woman came running in all frantic telling me to call 911 because there was someone passed out in front of the store!! So I go out there and she's freaking and saying 'He's not moving!", and it's that damn skeleton thing. How the hell she thought it was a real person is beyond me. Either way, I got a good laugh out of it.

When I started this post last week there was something really fun and I'm sure full of smartassery and wit that  I was going to write. Of course I got here and totally forgot. And I have yet to remember...

In current news (actually current, not from the previous draft I'd saved of this posting), I got a part-time job. So I will be cutting my hours back to part time at the Big Box. It came at the perfect time, because I was reaching a point where I was quite possibly going to just lose it one day and storm out in some sort of blaze of glory or embarrassment. So I've averted that crisis. I'm excited about the new place; I think I'll be much happier and fit in better. If only it were full-time!

Gah!! Where did all my little ideas go?? Poopy.