Living the Dream

Since when did it become a good thing to live the dream?  This concept confuses the shit out of me because dreams are generally pretty bizarre and not always good.  Ok, some are good.  Some are really really good.  I haven’t had a dream like that in forever though.  I miss that.

If I were truly living the dream, I’d be walking through the park and I’d see someone I knew.  I wouldn’t remember how I knew them, but I’d feel pretty comfortable with them.  They’d suddenly turn into a maniac and, as they’re chasing me through the park I’d wind up in a high-tech research facility with no idea how I got in.  Of course I wouldn’t care about that.  I’m still trying to escape this maniac, you see…

So I’d be looking around and trying to find escape, when I saw my aunt on her porch and I’d stop to say hi.  I’d have a glass of Kool-Aid and help her fix the sink.  What’s wrong with the sink?  There’s a snake in it!  Except it’s not a snake, but one of many tentacle arms of a monster than unearths itself through the floor of her house.  That’s when you’d appear behind me.  I mean, you were probably there all along, anyway.  I didn’t really notice you before, but it doesn’t seem odd that you just appeared.  You were probably brought here by the allure of Kool-Aid as well.

We’d fight off the monster and I’d help you escape. We’d run down the hospital halls together and you’d stop to buy a kitten.  Next thing I know, it wasn’t you, but Burt Reynolds that was fighting with me (and kitten shopping).  I must have been mistaken.  That’s a simple mistake, after all I’ve got a lot on my mind.  You see, somewhere along the line here, I’ve learned that the Mrs wants to go to outer space with this guy I barely know and it’s completely unfair because I’ve never gotten to go to outer space, and this dude is douchebag anyway.  I’ll wake up pissed off that you picked the wrong kitten (there’s one wrong one) and that I’m not going to get to go to space.

Although this won’t make a good arguement to be irritated with everyone in the morning, I’ll hold on to it because I feel like I should have been asked my opinion on kittens and first choice to go to space.

Sure, sounds like an exciting life, but if you think about it, aren’t a lot of mental patients living the dream?

Could I have used more commas in that last sentence?  No.  Why? Because I’m living the dream.

What’s your dream?  (Feel free to ramble, I do.)

Let’s Write a Story!

I’ve got a crazy idea.  I should probably be commited.  I mean, I am commited, which is why I’m trying to entertain you with something new.  Either way, it’s still pretty crazy.

Have you ever written a story with someone? You write a few lines/paragraphs/pages and then pass it to a friend and they write some, lather, rinse and repeat?  It’s the coolest.  Well, not the coolest…  That’s a tough call to make, ranging from boobies to sharks.  Still, it’s pretty awesome.

Today, I installed a comment notification plugin so that you can get email updates on comments to a particular post.  I use it often, and got the idea from Elly Lou.  In celebration of what would normally be a complete non-event, I’ve hatched a plan to have some fun together.

I’d like to write a story together.  Maybe it’ll be ongoing, maybe it’ll last 5 comments.  I’m interested to see what happens.  You guys are all pretty funny, and have great imaginations to my best of knowledge.  I’ll start something out below to set the tone.  You just type something up in the comments, then hit refresh to make sure nobody else has posted before you and send your comment to add on to the story.

The beginning:

The room flashed with light of all colors.  The air filled with jabbering and jingles.  It was after midnight and the air was warm in this small downtown apartment.  Ruby’s paycheck didn’t place her in the social class that could allow air conditioning, so she made due.  In fact, there wasn’t much money to be made in the field of…

Ok – go.  Invent, change and combine.  Read all the previous story before you post, and try to post with an open ending, providing a good starting point for the next.

I Wish I Was a Bear

I say this for a number of reasons:

• I’d be a huge, virtually unstoppable force with giant claws.
• Although dangerous, I’d look cuddly as shit.
• Id’ eat fresh fish and camper’s food with the occasional hiker.
• Giant claws (worth a 2nd mention)
• I’d waste less time waiting for a bathroom.
• I could hibernate and skip all this Winter bullshit.

I wouldn’t necessarily say that I have seasonal depression, but I am always more (and more easily) depressed in the Winter.  I think everyone is.  Of course, I think that because I think it makes sense to be depressed about it.  If it makes sense to me, then of course I think it makes sense to you or else it wouldn’t make sense to me anymore and I’d spin out of control, causing more depression, and probably end up going to live with bears.  They’d have to have a cottage with heating though, like in Goldilocks.  I’m not sitting out in the cold, that just takes me back to the beginning…

If you find bears with central heating, tell them I’m looking for them.  In bear, I think that’s: “Raaaawr grr…  grunt grunt heavy-sigh”

I’m not going to bore you with a list of why I hate Winter, because that would be a really long list and you’ve got better stuff to do with your day.  Suffice to say the last entry on that list would be a personal fear of mine, that you could slip on ice, outside of public view, and freeze to death while you’re unconscious.  Extreme?  Yes.  Yes, my hatred for Winter is extreme.  Thank you for noticing.

Last week, Bugginword painted a picture (metaphorically) that reminded me of summer, so I’d like to do the same.

My vision is a warm summer evening, sitting outside in the country, admiring the vivid blue sky contrasted against the bright green corn fields.  There’s a slight breeze and the wind chime is playing a nature-made tune.  It’s just warm enough to kick off my flip-flops and close my eyes.  I could sleep here, or I could go climb a tree.  Everything else has drifted away.  Maybe I’ll light the fire-pit later and invite people over, or instead just take a nap for a bit and cook out for dinner.

Some people prefer Winter.  They prefer to be cold and snuggle than to be hot and naked.  Yes, that is a possible solution to cool off and I’m counting it.  So who’s with me?  Who wants to close their eyes, remember the warm seasons and skip all this wet cold mess, and who’d be happy to live on the North Pole?

I Don’t Worry About the Sex Tape

I’m not worried about a sex tape surfacing.  I mean, really, what’s the worst that could happen?  It seems to work out really well for celebrities, and I don’t plan to be a beauty queen.  I might consider it, but I’ve been told I don’t have the hips for it.  I also don’t have the boobs or vagina for it, but now I’m just being technical.

The video release that I’d fear most would be candid footage of me being an idiot.  I know you do it too, so don’t judge me.  If anything, we should probably hang out more.

What kind of candid footage?  Nothing illegal.  It probably should be illegal…  Footage like me singing in the car.  Nah…  That’s too light.  Everybody knows that one.

How about footage taken when you’re getting out of the shower?  Maybe footage in the shower?  Maybe it’s a solo-sex-tape?  Are you guys picking up what I’m laying down here?

That’s also very common.  You do it to.  If you’re claiming that you don’t know either of the above concepts, you’re a robot.  You’re possibly plotting world domination and must be stopped.

What kind of video could be more embarrassing than that?  How about video of you, just hanging out in your house.  Nobody’s home, so you make up a funny song.  You start to sing it and you get louder.  As you’re singing it, you decide to get a snack out of the refrigerator, so now you’re dancing across the kitchen floor, sliding  and spinning on your socks.  Maybe you fall, maybe you don’t. Either way, is this a video you want getting out there?  I don’t.  Shit.

I’m not saying there’s a video like that out there, but if there is and you see it.  I was really drunk that day, and it was my evil twin and if neither of those excuses work; there’s a slight chance that I have a similar video of you that I’m holding on to for such an occasion.  Or I don’t.  Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

What do you think?  Would you prefer a sex tape, or a stupidity tape?

I Care Way Too Much

I care way too much what some people think, but not all people.  The qualification is confusing too.  If I’m working with homeless/needy people I’m concerned to not act all proud of myself so they don’t think I’m some big douchebag.  If I go to a high-end retailer I walk around with a “fuck you” expression because I don’t care if anyone likes me.

It’s bizarre.  I was just talking to Kater about having a coffee pick-me-up.   I think the problem is really that I’m afraid I’ll get stink breath, and have to talk to someone up close and they’ll go on thinking I have stinky breath all the time, and I’ll think about how they might mention to someone else that I had stinky breath and that it was terrible.  Sure it’ll be in good humor, but the next thing you know I’m the guy at the office with stink breath and everyone started to avoid me and I don’t understand why there’s so much animosity so I always think I’m getting fired or something and I’m the only one who doesn’t know it and so I decide that if I have to have coffee, I would need to caution anyone within breath-shot with a disclaimer that I’ve had coffee and that my breath isn’t normally like this and, please God, don’t tell anybody because I really need this job.

It’s that bad.

When I walk down the street or mow the lawn, I feel like people are watching me from all over, which then leads me to act oddly, or at least I think it’s odd, which I then over-correct and become even more odd.  (Uh oh, here come the grammar police) For example, if I’m walking down the street and I stumble, I have to put on a show for everyone who may have seen it, often mouthing words  like “Oops.  Didn’t see that there.  Jeez”, but without saying them.  You see, the people who are watching me, they can’t tell because they wouldn’t hear me through the glass.

Sometimes I feel like I’m trying too hard to look human.  Breath just right, walk a normal speed, enjoy watching Seinfeld.

On the other hand, if I go to Wal-Mart, I don’t care if I have toilet paper hanging from my pants and a hat that says “My other hat is also a hat.”  (Actually…  I think I’d like that hat.)

So there you go, Internet.  I’m, once again, asking you to diagnose me and, if you’re capable, prescribe me some meds.  Is anyone else this weird?