Bonus Post: Happy Place
Clicky for happy thought of the day
(nsfw...if you don't feel tingly watching this, you're a corpse)
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Weird Dreams from the Couch
Got home from work yesterday morning, changed into my beloved red and blue plaid pajama pants and plopped down on the couch with a big 'ol cup of Today Show on NBC. I didn't even get to blink twice and I was down for the count, aware of the world around me only briefly, around 6:00 before going back to my semi-comatose state until 9-something. But I was aware of the string of odd and vivid dreams that occupied my sleepy time.
First, I was at some old place that was in or around Decatur and staying in one of those old fashioned motels - the kind that are one level and you park right outside of your door. Don't get me wrong, my lodging was nice enough, but it was most certainly old. I dined at an old diner, surrounded by old people, and then went to a really, really old building for some sort of meeting, no doubt with old people. And once I was at this meeting with old people in an old place, we went to this room in the middle of the building where there was this large, foam pyramid that was surrounded by a ball pit. We (the royal we - me and fellow old people) stripped down to spandex unitards and raced to the top of the pyramid. That was the end of that dream...
Next, I was a little boy in a house that was filling with lava - but this was a Pixar cartoon and I was a cartoon boy imperiled by cartoon lava. I stacked my toys in the corner and when the lava came near, I tossed them out the window to save them. I was barely able to save my xbox and lost a controller to the cartoon lava. I jumped out of the window to escape the cartoon lava and met my cartoon father and cartoon dog in the front yard. My cartoon mother was out there and this little lava demon arose from the cartoon lava. In my dream, my cartoon mother used to be some sort of an ice goddess that was married to the little lava demon. For reasons my cartoon little boy brain did not fully grasp, my cartoon mother left my cartoon mother and I to go be with the little lava demon. This was done somehow to save the world...or at least our little cartoon family.
(I swear there was no crack ingested prior to napping on the couch - only 2 cinnamon raisin biscuits from Hardees)
Next dream - I'm in WalMart and there are professional wrestlers in lucha libre masks jumping out of dark colored wooden drunks and changing all of the tv channels in the electronics department to...wrestling.
Final dream - I'm an ingenue in a high necked halter dress...it's black. I have long, straight black hair with bangs and large, green, black rimmed eyes and red lips. I am admittedly hot. And I am being chased by a crazed killer in a car. The dream screams of "Death Proof" but it's not exactly...better dialog and not as much over-talked build up to the action. Everything ends in a swamp and I end up in the lake (meow!). The dream ends with credits rolling and I was, in fact, the ingenue in peril in a Quentin Tarantino film. Things leave an opening for a sequel.
...And after the credits ended, I saw one of the fellows on my softball team remove the dvd of the movie that I just starred in from the dvd player, place it in the container and take it downstairs and put it in a picnic basket, walk outside, and join me and the other team-members for a backyard bbq.
I slept so hard that I didn't go "WTF!?!" until almost a half hour later, while stepping out of the shower. Oh well, they were fun dreams.
Got home from work yesterday morning, changed into my beloved red and blue plaid pajama pants and plopped down on the couch with a big 'ol cup of Today Show on NBC. I didn't even get to blink twice and I was down for the count, aware of the world around me only briefly, around 6:00 before going back to my semi-comatose state until 9-something. But I was aware of the string of odd and vivid dreams that occupied my sleepy time.
First, I was at some old place that was in or around Decatur and staying in one of those old fashioned motels - the kind that are one level and you park right outside of your door. Don't get me wrong, my lodging was nice enough, but it was most certainly old. I dined at an old diner, surrounded by old people, and then went to a really, really old building for some sort of meeting, no doubt with old people. And once I was at this meeting with old people in an old place, we went to this room in the middle of the building where there was this large, foam pyramid that was surrounded by a ball pit. We (the royal we - me and fellow old people) stripped down to spandex unitards and raced to the top of the pyramid. That was the end of that dream...
Next, I was a little boy in a house that was filling with lava - but this was a Pixar cartoon and I was a cartoon boy imperiled by cartoon lava. I stacked my toys in the corner and when the lava came near, I tossed them out the window to save them. I was barely able to save my xbox and lost a controller to the cartoon lava. I jumped out of the window to escape the cartoon lava and met my cartoon father and cartoon dog in the front yard. My cartoon mother was out there and this little lava demon arose from the cartoon lava. In my dream, my cartoon mother used to be some sort of an ice goddess that was married to the little lava demon. For reasons my cartoon little boy brain did not fully grasp, my cartoon mother left my cartoon mother and I to go be with the little lava demon. This was done somehow to save the world...or at least our little cartoon family.
(I swear there was no crack ingested prior to napping on the couch - only 2 cinnamon raisin biscuits from Hardees)
Next dream - I'm in WalMart and there are professional wrestlers in lucha libre masks jumping out of dark colored wooden drunks and changing all of the tv channels in the electronics department to...wrestling.
Final dream - I'm an ingenue in a high necked halter dress...it's black. I have long, straight black hair with bangs and large, green, black rimmed eyes and red lips. I am admittedly hot. And I am being chased by a crazed killer in a car. The dream screams of "Death Proof" but it's not exactly...better dialog and not as much over-talked build up to the action. Everything ends in a swamp and I end up in the lake (meow!). The dream ends with credits rolling and I was, in fact, the ingenue in peril in a Quentin Tarantino film. Things leave an opening for a sequel.
...And after the credits ended, I saw one of the fellows on my softball team remove the dvd of the movie that I just starred in from the dvd player, place it in the container and take it downstairs and put it in a picnic basket, walk outside, and join me and the other team-members for a backyard bbq.
I slept so hard that I didn't go "WTF!?!" until almost a half hour later, while stepping out of the shower. Oh well, they were fun dreams.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Happenin' Tune
"Carmensita" by Devendra Banhart ... heard this a while back and didn't know what it was or who did it, but I'm lovin' it
Other Stuff I Love Today
Biore Pore Strips - 1/3 grooming, 1/3 science experiment, 1/3 S&M potential ... count me in
Fresh Peaches - no explanation necessary
Watchmen movie trailer - ++props for remixing SP's TEITBITE - finally this song is used to promote a worthwhile superhero movie
White 300 count sheets - they have to be white or they just don't count. I won't lie on anything less while updating my blog
Meronoa mens' socks - the kind that are supposedly made of bamboo - they wick foot sweat like a thirsty sponge...one that craves foot juice
73 degrees, 40% humidity, Light breeze from the southwest at 15 mph - these atmospheric conditions work for me
-BTW-
RIP Estelle 'Sophia Patrillo' Getty - hope you're living it up at the big Shady Pines in the Sky
"Carmensita" by Devendra Banhart ... heard this a while back and didn't know what it was or who did it, but I'm lovin' it
Other Stuff I Love Today
Biore Pore Strips - 1/3 grooming, 1/3 science experiment, 1/3 S&M potential ... count me in
Fresh Peaches - no explanation necessary
Watchmen movie trailer - ++props for remixing SP's TEITBITE - finally this song is used to promote a worthwhile superhero movie
White 300 count sheets - they have to be white or they just don't count. I won't lie on anything less while updating my blog
Meronoa mens' socks - the kind that are supposedly made of bamboo - they wick foot sweat like a thirsty sponge...one that craves foot juice
73 degrees, 40% humidity, Light breeze from the southwest at 15 mph - these atmospheric conditions work for me
-BTW-
RIP Estelle 'Sophia Patrillo' Getty - hope you're living it up at the big Shady Pines in the Sky
Monday, July 21, 2008
Oh nos! Tornadoes!
So about 5:40 this morning, I'm puttering past heat treat in my scooter when the take cover (aka tornado) sirens go off. After herding my folks into the bathroom (aka the storm shelter) we proceed to just hang out in there for about 25 minutes. It was very uncomfortable - 15 people jammed into a single stall bathroom, sweaty...it was very humid and at least 100 degrees in the space. By the time we poured out a bit after 6, most of us looked like freshly boiled lobsters. On the bright side, the shop was about 15 degrees cooler after the storm and wave two of the front that came rolling through wasn't nearly as bad. At least we weren't hit by a tornado and thankfully, no one had to poop!
So about 5:40 this morning, I'm puttering past heat treat in my scooter when the take cover (aka tornado) sirens go off. After herding my folks into the bathroom (aka the storm shelter) we proceed to just hang out in there for about 25 minutes. It was very uncomfortable - 15 people jammed into a single stall bathroom, sweaty...it was very humid and at least 100 degrees in the space. By the time we poured out a bit after 6, most of us looked like freshly boiled lobsters. On the bright side, the shop was about 15 degrees cooler after the storm and wave two of the front that came rolling through wasn't nearly as bad. At least we weren't hit by a tornado and thankfully, no one had to poop!
Friday, July 18, 2008
Rock Gods are Human Too
I rarely blog about current events, much less, celebrities. Much, much, much less, celebrities that aren't even really celebrities to the masses or the general American public. However, my inner 19-year old is presently way bummed to hear that one of the lead singers of one of my all time favorite bands is facing drug charges. No, I'm not talking about Scott Weiland of STP/Velvet Revolver...again...I'm refering to Steven Page of the Barenaked Ladies.
Those of you who knew me back in the day know that I loved (still do) this band. I sing the praises of their live shows, filled with humorous banter and masterful musicianship. I really dig this band not for their catchy tunes, like "One Week," but for the fact that the band is 5 true musicians and showmen who make some damn good songs.
Aside from having an absolutely beautiful and operatic tenor, Page has mad song writing skills. He writes songs that are absolutely bouncy morsels of pop perfection peppered with wry social commentary and sprinkled with the bits of cynicism yet hopefulness - anthems for the bitter, yet motivated if you will. A lot of his songs are about the duality of the psyche - singing about having a whimsical day while at the same time lamenting about the horrors of the everyday.
But personally, I love his stuff because a lot of it contains themes that I deeply identify with - and I'm not talking about all the pipe dreams of what I'd do "If I Had a Million Dollars." Having to live up to the pressure of being the person you're expected to in "What a Good Boy." Absolutely loathing where you live and hoping it crumbles into the ground like in "Hello City." Becoming a passive aggressive asshole trying to be kind in "Break Your Heart." Afraid of people finding out that you don't have it all together after all in "This is Where it Ends." Of course, there's the funny stuff too, like "Alcohol," "In the Car," "It's Only Me (The Wizard of Magicland," about getting drunk and falling down, high school groping, and masturbation. I guess a lot of us can identify with those as well too.
So, fandom aside, I think the most disturbing thing about this is that this guy isn't your average rockstar and BNL isn't your average band. They've always had a more average joe and clean cut image than most any other band out there, save for the Osmonds. Yet this is a group that's never really gone out of its way to profess they are a squeaky clean family act. I guess in the age of drunken benders involving being pronounced dead, head shaving, biting the heads off bats, snorting your father's ashes, crotch flashing, and shark sandwiches, all it takes to be branded squeaky clean is well...not doing any of the aforementioned, which really takes no effort at all. Page was always better known for promoting literacy, recycling, and being somewhat active in social reform. And in all of that is the disturbing fact that there's little relished more these days than watching someone like that be burned at the stake for doing something that's, well, rock and roll. And cocaine is pretty rock and roll. (We're such hypocrites and prudes.)
So my inner 19-year old is bummed because this may mean no new albums, no tours, no performances for sometime. But this also means that if I think the uncommon rockstar is susceptible to common rockstar problems, that I had hero worship and I don't care who you are, it sucks to watch a hero fall from grace.
I rarely blog about current events, much less, celebrities. Much, much, much less, celebrities that aren't even really celebrities to the masses or the general American public. However, my inner 19-year old is presently way bummed to hear that one of the lead singers of one of my all time favorite bands is facing drug charges. No, I'm not talking about Scott Weiland of STP/Velvet Revolver...again...I'm refering to Steven Page of the Barenaked Ladies.
Those of you who knew me back in the day know that I loved (still do) this band. I sing the praises of their live shows, filled with humorous banter and masterful musicianship. I really dig this band not for their catchy tunes, like "One Week," but for the fact that the band is 5 true musicians and showmen who make some damn good songs.
Aside from having an absolutely beautiful and operatic tenor, Page has mad song writing skills. He writes songs that are absolutely bouncy morsels of pop perfection peppered with wry social commentary and sprinkled with the bits of cynicism yet hopefulness - anthems for the bitter, yet motivated if you will. A lot of his songs are about the duality of the psyche - singing about having a whimsical day while at the same time lamenting about the horrors of the everyday.
But personally, I love his stuff because a lot of it contains themes that I deeply identify with - and I'm not talking about all the pipe dreams of what I'd do "If I Had a Million Dollars." Having to live up to the pressure of being the person you're expected to in "What a Good Boy." Absolutely loathing where you live and hoping it crumbles into the ground like in "Hello City." Becoming a passive aggressive asshole trying to be kind in "Break Your Heart." Afraid of people finding out that you don't have it all together after all in "This is Where it Ends." Of course, there's the funny stuff too, like "Alcohol," "In the Car," "It's Only Me (The Wizard of Magicland," about getting drunk and falling down, high school groping, and masturbation. I guess a lot of us can identify with those as well too.
So, fandom aside, I think the most disturbing thing about this is that this guy isn't your average rockstar and BNL isn't your average band. They've always had a more average joe and clean cut image than most any other band out there, save for the Osmonds. Yet this is a group that's never really gone out of its way to profess they are a squeaky clean family act. I guess in the age of drunken benders involving being pronounced dead, head shaving, biting the heads off bats, snorting your father's ashes, crotch flashing, and shark sandwiches, all it takes to be branded squeaky clean is well...not doing any of the aforementioned, which really takes no effort at all. Page was always better known for promoting literacy, recycling, and being somewhat active in social reform. And in all of that is the disturbing fact that there's little relished more these days than watching someone like that be burned at the stake for doing something that's, well, rock and roll. And cocaine is pretty rock and roll. (We're such hypocrites and prudes.)
So my inner 19-year old is bummed because this may mean no new albums, no tours, no performances for sometime. But this also means that if I think the uncommon rockstar is susceptible to common rockstar problems, that I had hero worship and I don't care who you are, it sucks to watch a hero fall from grace.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Question of the Day
Is a fast food breakfast as special when it's possible for you to have it just about every day? Without having to rush to make it there before it becomes lunch time? Debate.
Got Caught in a Tornado on I-55 Friday
Whilst headed downstate on Friday evening, Mama and I were caught in some gnarly straight-line winds on I-55 south of Springfield. The big rigs came to a halt on I-55; we (and everyone else) were pulled over on the side of the road because the rain and hail was too insane to proceed onward. At one point, all the precipitation stopped and then we were bombarded by straightline winds coming from the west. I could see the grass and crops on the side of the road bend over, almost to the ground, and feel the car rocking. It felt pretty freaky!
Is a fast food breakfast as special when it's possible for you to have it just about every day? Without having to rush to make it there before it becomes lunch time? Debate.
Got Caught in a Tornado on I-55 Friday
Whilst headed downstate on Friday evening, Mama and I were caught in some gnarly straight-line winds on I-55 south of Springfield. The big rigs came to a halt on I-55; we (and everyone else) were pulled over on the side of the road because the rain and hail was too insane to proceed onward. At one point, all the precipitation stopped and then we were bombarded by straightline winds coming from the west. I could see the grass and crops on the side of the road bend over, almost to the ground, and feel the car rocking. It felt pretty freaky!
Thursday, July 10, 2008
6.02214179 x 10-23 ^ malignant!!!
I'm having a mole cut off my arm 2 weeks from today. Here's how it went down: Saturday - smooth, flat, freckle-looking spot on my arm. Kind of cute, right? Sunday - mole itches, i scratch it and it hurts, it's a raised bump. Oh, a pimple, right? Ney - it starts bleeding on me. So not a pimple. Monday - it's still there. Tuesday - same story. Today, it hurts when I press on it. And, at the bottom of the raised skin is an elongated, demonic version of the cute, little freckle it used to be.
I'm getting this bad boy chopped off in 2 weeks. Something changes that fast, it's gotta be some skin cancer baby!
I'm having a mole cut off my arm 2 weeks from today. Here's how it went down: Saturday - smooth, flat, freckle-looking spot on my arm. Kind of cute, right? Sunday - mole itches, i scratch it and it hurts, it's a raised bump. Oh, a pimple, right? Ney - it starts bleeding on me. So not a pimple. Monday - it's still there. Tuesday - same story. Today, it hurts when I press on it. And, at the bottom of the raised skin is an elongated, demonic version of the cute, little freckle it used to be.
I'm getting this bad boy chopped off in 2 weeks. Something changes that fast, it's gotta be some skin cancer baby!
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
I Love the Night Life
I've been at the new job a month now and this week marked my start on 3rd shift. Let me say for the record: I love 3rd shift. This, of course, makes me what a lot of people would call "not right." I could have told you a long time ago that I've never not been "not right." Actually, even when I'm "right," it's just a very mild version of being "not right." But, aside from that, here are my top 5 reasons why I love working 3rd:
1. No meetings
2. Riding around on a Cushman scooter is super fun
3. Everyone just wants to work and be left alone (therefore I just get to work and be left alone)
4. It's now socially acceptable to eat bbq for breakfast and drink beer at 8am
5. More sleep (seriously, I slept 10 hours yesterday and still had time to goof around 3 hours before work)
I've been at the new job a month now and this week marked my start on 3rd shift. Let me say for the record: I love 3rd shift. This, of course, makes me what a lot of people would call "not right." I could have told you a long time ago that I've never not been "not right." Actually, even when I'm "right," it's just a very mild version of being "not right." But, aside from that, here are my top 5 reasons why I love working 3rd:
1. No meetings
2. Riding around on a Cushman scooter is super fun
3. Everyone just wants to work and be left alone (therefore I just get to work and be left alone)
4. It's now socially acceptable to eat bbq for breakfast and drink beer at 8am
5. More sleep (seriously, I slept 10 hours yesterday and still had time to goof around 3 hours before work)
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