Defining Dreams (Chasing Rainbows)

The title of this post has a lie in it.  It has nothing to do with chasing rainbows. I’m not sorry I lied.

Most mornings, anymore, I haul myself out of bed after the alarm has sufficiently pissed me off and not a moment before.  I stand up against the will of morning gravity and immediately start processing all the things that I have to start doing and how long it will be before I can lay back down.  This morning was different, though.  This morning I woke up before my alarm and felt rested.

Why?  Because I had a great dream.  Al Gore was in it.  Now get your mind out of the gutter.

In my dream, I was fighting Al Gore in a toy store.  We weren’t really fighting, necessarily, but sort-of wrestling about without any real punching or kicking.  After I’d whale on him like an older sibling would do, I’d run the aisles and collect a toy or two before he could catch up to me.  I stock-piled them in one area, waiting to collect them at the end of the fight.

While I do love toys, I don’t feel any need to beat up Al Gore.  Maybe that’s the game though, because for a shopping spree, I’d definitely fight him.  That’s the obnoxious kid in me, I guess.

Speaking of toys, have you seen these Zhu Zhu Pets?  What the hell are they trying to push on us now?  From what I’ve experienced, a Zhu Zhu Pet is basically a toy car from the 80s (the kind that would drive around all crazy, run into walls, turn and go another direction) wrapped in a hamster suit that is sometimes made to look like another animal and all sharing the same electronics so they make the same varied animal noises when they bump into something.  I don’t get it.

Beyond being a very simple toy, they’re $10 freakin’ dollhairs each!  Of course this was the only thing my oldest daughter was asking for, so we bought two, but that seemed like such a lame offering that I bought some “track” for them as well.  They are a lot more fun in the track, but need constant supervision or they’ll fall over and get stuck, or escape and roll off the table.

I guess chasing toy hamsters around the room makes my dream about wrestling Al Gore sound like a decent alternative.

What’s your weirdest recent dream?

Commentpalooza

I think when you present anything, you generally have an idea of how it’s going to go. You at least have an idea of how you’d like it to go.  Well, I posted a partial project I’ve been working on, and instead of getting feedback from 2 or 3 people, as I expected…  Something different happened.

It all started with Elly Lou (blog) having some sort of confusion with the comment box having some sort of a minimum, which it apparently doesn’t.  Innocent enough, right? Seemingly.

Before I know what’s going on, the post has become a public forum with questions about caring for a new cat, the legitmacy of transexual mates and time machines.  A comment sandwich began and, my friends, it grew.  It grew like an unholy sandwich from sandwich-hell.

Somewhere in the midst of the tornado of comments, I believe, but cannot prove, that VapidBlonde (blog) got my cat pregnant, PattyPunker (blog)  stole all my lightbulbs and Dufmanno (blog) defended, again, that she does not have a condition referred to as “fur boobs”.   Oh and WickedShawn (blog) promised me pictures of boobies.  Man boobies…  I hope she forgets.

We laughed, we loved and we learned from each other.  VapidBlonde, for example, shared with us the gift that is the muffburger:

She then tried to shield us from the dangers of searching for “sexburger” at work, but when I did, I learned even more!  Go ahead and assume that all of my settings are modified to allow as much “accidental” porn to come up in my search results as possible.  Still, I learned of the “SEX BURGER” restaurant:

As it turns out, the SEX BURGER is a bit of Engrish (engrish.com) but I call this a happy accident.  Two things I love more than almost anything, barring comment sandwiches like this, are sex and burgers.  I want to fly there and eat them out

of business!

With this comment section rolling forward with the fury of 10,000 Mack trucks, I found it hard to stop it.  I wanted to do an update more of the guide to wishing – but…  My dog ate my Wacom pen.  This is because he is a bastard.  Until I order a new pen, I can’t do much more with that.

Furthermore, I’ve gone viral. I don’t mean that in the way that I’m all popular and stuff, although that’s clearly the case for you guys/girls who deserve big free beers and sloppy kisses, respectively.  Hell, depending on where the night goes, those might switch… Well, maybe just the beer part.

Being virally ill for several days made me think I was dying, because I’m really really bad at being sick.  Coming out of that, and ordering a new pen tomorrow, I will have additions to the guide for wishing AND I want to hear your suggestions.  Were there parts that you thought were confusing?

(during the writing of this post, Subwow (blog) tweeted, asking yet more people to be the condiments on this comment sandwich.  Hilarious.)

And now, my question to spark comments…  Uh…  Well, this is hardly necessary here, so let’s just start with sexburger.

Your Butt Stinks

Everyone says the “three special words” in their own way.  Some people send flowers, some buy a mindful card, and some put an extra piece of cheese in your lunchbox.  Some people, however, show it a little differently.

When you were growing up and your parents were always telling you to be home early and stay away from “those kids”, they were telling you they loved you.  Or they were just trying to keep you unpopular so you could take better care of them in their increasing age.  It was probably love though.

When you’re significant other gets up earlier than you, but steps quietly around the house so that you may sleep uninterrupted, that’s a display of caring/love.  It could also mean they are keeping their actions secret.  It could also mean they are actually a ninja, except then you’d probably be dead.  Maybe they’re a ninja, but they love you, so their a considerate ninja.  I’m sure that’s it.

In Mrs’ family, it’s customary for she and her dad to insult each other in fun to express their love for each other.  When we first dated, she had several saved voicemails on her phone and she played one for me without any explanation.

The message was from her nephew, who she treated like a son, and it said “Hey!  You’re dumb and your butt stinks like horse poop! *laughing hysterically* *click*”

I didn’t get it at first, but this is just how they do it.  I’ll hear a conversation on the phone start out with “What do you want, loser” or “No, you’re dumb” and I know who she’s talking to.  It’s nice.

We’ve adopted the same sort of technique, because we pick on each other in fun constantly.  If you took these conversations literally you’d expect a lot of domestic disputes from two people who labelled each other “retards” and constantly threatened to kick each others asses.  It’s exactly what you’d expect from a happy & functional household.

Two years ago, at the Indiana State Fair, we stopped at the booth where they sell trinkety necklaces and shit with whatever you want etched into them. Mrs bought me a heart keychain with a cow charm and the words in cursive “Your butt stinks” (There is no back story to this regarding my butt, but I do not disagree with it’s validity).  Without my own family insults to interject, I chose a star keychain with the words “I’m pokin’ ya”.  You know, because the star is going to be pocking her in the leg when she keeps it in her pocket.

Do you have an unusual way of expressing your love in your family?

My Robot Penis

Earlier today, on the Twitter, I said:

Do you ever just feel like we’re all part of something bigger than we are? Like a giant robot? Because if so, I want to be his wang.

That led to some friends labeling me Robowang, which could be the best nickname I’ve ever heard.  Conversation about that lingered for a moment until I was contacted by Empire Labs [website] (NSFW) about a kit to make a mold of your wang for a sex toy.

Whoa, that’s incredible. Talk about the perfect gift, right? Just consider the possibilities here, would you?

• Merry Christmas, honey. I knew you’d like this because you’ve told me before how much you like mine.
• Congratulations, you guys. I got you a gift that I think you can use on your honeymoon. I know you’ll recognize it, Susan.

Or even:

• Happy birthday, buddy. What’s that? Why its a replica dildo I made you from my own penis. I wanted my gift to really be meaningful *tear* *punch*

Well, I’m not in the dick mold biz, but it would be funny to make a robot penis. If you don’t think that’s funny, I can’t explain it. My sense of humor may not be the same as yours. I’m very seriously considering buying the kit and, through use of prosthetics and creativity, making a robot penis.

Am I twisted? Has my mind fallen apart during my month away? Maybe. More importantly, do you think there’s a market for robot penises?

Everybody Loves Ramen

When I first moved out on my own, and was not wealthy enough to have the chefs at Taco Bell cater my every meal, I ate a lot of not-good-for-you shit.  There were some basic staples that I had to have, and I’d just fancy them up as needed.  I mean, you have to be ready just in case the Queen arrives.  I can’t expect Ms. Latifa to eat plain PB & J now, can I?

The first problem was that I hated hate shopping.  I’ll buy the prettiest package every time.  If there’s a bigger jar, or larger box I’ll get it, because it keeps me from coming back soon.  I hate waiting around behind people who just can’t decide to get this box of cookies or that box of cookies.  Get them both, or either, because you’re probably never going to think back and want to change that decision either way.  I’m always afraid of going broke too, which I’ve done too many times.

I’ll grab something and if I’m not sure about it, I’ll end up putting it back before I’m done.  It could be toys, books or movies, food or medicine.  Anything.  The longer I deliberate, the less I buy.  If the store always had free samples I could just go and eat the free samples while I deliberated and eventually put everything back on the shelves one-by-one.

Ramen noodles are the common college staple.  Disregard the package, because you don’t need the instructions.  Here’s what you need hot water.  Really hot water.  Put it on the noodles.  Let them get soft.  Note: If they are a little hard and you strain them early, it’s called Al-Dente, which is French for “I’m a fucking master chef.”  Strain the noodles.  If you don’t have a strainer, don’t worry.  You can do any of the following to strain pasta without a strainer:

• Use a fork to punch an assload of holes in a disposable plate or bowl.
• Put a paper towel in the sink, then lift it by the corners to let the water out.
• Pour it into a microwave container and then crack the lid slightly and pour.

You know what else is great?  Those little seasoning packets.  If you completely screw up your Ramen, because you’re very drunk or severely handicapped, keep the packets and put them in a coffee cup full of hot water on a cold gloomy day.  Mmmmm.  Soup-like.

Speaking of packets, never throw away anything free that has a flavor (and is normally edible).  If you get condiment packets from a restaraunt get extras.  You’ll need them later.  Taco sauce is free at Taco Bell, take a handful when you buy  a$1 taco.   These can be used to make almost any meal a little bit nicer.

Speaking of soup, you can’t go wrong with soup.  Hmmm.. That reads funny, but it’s true.  Anything canned and ready to eat, really.  I don’t think it expires any time soon, and I’m sure there are all sorts of limitations and such, but honestly this isn’t a post on eating healthy.  Pop the can open, pour into a bowl and eat.  If you don’t have a microwave or stove handy, just open, then cook it in the can over an open fire.  (Go outside first)

Hot dogs are, by far, the most versatile food as you can see here.  I wasn’t able to get all of the secret recipes that were entered in the party/contest but here are some ideas:

• Cut up and add to a can of baked beans.  (Double Points!)
• Slit the center and add strips of cheese.
• Put them in your buns (Obviously)
• Cover them with bacon bits, cheese and barbecue sauce for a platter meal.
• CORN DOGS!
• Dog Treats

I inherited a freezer full of frozen hot dogs.  I’m fairly sure they don’t go bad, and when you thaw them they are pre-cooked and ready to eat.  Throw the package in a bowl of hot water to thaw, then heat a couple up at a time for an anytime snack.

Now don’t forget, if you’re entertaining guests, it’s expected that you’ll have multiple courses in your meal.  You need a side dish!  Fear not because Pasta-Roni is 5 minutes away.  I think the box says 10 minutes, so just turn the heat up much higher and serve it Al-Dente!!!  They’ll be awed by your amazing cooking skills, and probably ask you for the recipe.

Don’t give it to them though.  If you give up all your mystery, you’ll be boring AND poor, and that just sucks.

What’s your secret cheap/easy standby?