I'm behind a car with the license plate ANGLE and I can't help but to think they thought they were lucky to get their first choice: "ANGEL" 44 minutes ago
This post could have easily turned into a Drunken Recollection, considering the amount of beers downed over my time camping. As I explained to my sister, when I was on a cruise, I had documentation of how quickly I could finish a drink: every 15 minutes. She didn’t believe me, so she checked the clock on her phone and timed me. I didn’t rush. I casually chatted and played ladder golf. 11 minutes. I’m not proud. Well, maybe a little.
Anylowenbrau, both nights while in my tent, I was awakened with a start. Was it the booze? Was it the location? Who cares knows, but both dealt with unstoppable killers.
The first night’s dream started off okay. It featured the lovely Julie Bowen.
I tried. She changed her number.
Sure, she was breaking up with me, but I was keeping calm. I remember saying, “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t still love me.” And she couldn’t. So WIN!
Somebody was trying to interview me about my latest book, and we kept trying to move to quieter areas in the nightclub. Eventually, we were in the alley, where my car was parked. The trunk was open, and a sewer portal was running through it.
The interviewer spotted a mining cap and pick axe and reached for it. I warned him not too, and that’s when this guy appeared:
Pote Snitkin cleans up pretty nice.
At least that’s the closest approximation of the horror that chased me. And he would not stop. At one point, I was on a roof top, and as he darted at me, he ran into a wall and fell over the side of the building.
Feeling safe, I proceeded to climb down the ladder not far from his crushed face and distorted body. As I neared the ground, he smiled and started sitting up. I woke up immediately.
The next night, my cousin’s stepson was telling me about this video showing the ghost of Michael Jackson. People that know me and/or keep up on this site know how I feel about ghosts. But I was determined not to let a ten year old see my eyes well up. Luckily, upon returning home, I discovered this explanation of the “phenomenon”:
But it still didn’t help the fact that the second night, I had a dream I was driving around at night and saw a bunch of people running in the streets. Cars were hitting people and they were flying everywhere. I saw the UPS guy that brings PC deliveries to our office get struck, so I stopped my car to check on him. As I did, a big zombie burly guy in a jump suit appeared behind me and shanked me – another one of my greatest fears.
This dream woke me in the middle of the night. I had to pee, but I had no flashlight. I went anyway. It proves I’m a big boy. I can handle anything.
I know my co-workers found no joy in these videos. They succinctly and collectively proclaimed, “I don’t get it.”
Sure, the animated shorts might be a “little bit wrong” (I pretend the heroes have been in a few too many losing battles), but I find Baman and Piderman entertaining. (The latest video is below; the other videos are here.) I can’t say that I “get it” exactly either, and it might mean that I’m a “little bit wrong.”
Perhaps a little bit wrong can be all right.
If you found that distasteful or unfunny, maybe this is more your speed:
File this one under, “Are You Fucking Kidding Me?” This picture pretty much says it all (if you didn’t believe this post’s title):
Glass bottomed heels are optional.
So okay, high heels aren’t specifically “stripper shoes,” but they definitely are in poor taste and bad judgment when you put them on an infant. It’s as bad as putting writing on the back of actual baby shorts and sweatpants. Moms – little girls aren’t your living dolls, accessories, or Chihuahuas… they’re new people. New human beings. Full of life and potential. I’m not saying it’s a sure path to coke-whoring despair, but there are better options.
See how these moms react:
I could go on and on about how this idea may be the worst thing since:
Only a Dad would buy this shirt
But my explanations would sway no one and only come across as redundant to your reactions.
That’s why should I happen to have a daughter of my own, I’m going to raise her to trust no one. I’ll encourage her to be a little reporter and investigator, and she’ll come home and tell me all the things she’s uncovered. We’ll create journals and files and collect news clippings. That way my daughter will be a little more Veronica Mars than Gossip Girl.
Ah, true love. Does it really exist? Is it simply a term to describe a reaction of gurgling chemicals and snapping pheromones? Is it phenomenon that only occurs when soul mates find each other?
The governor of South Carolina, Mark Sanford, certainly believes in it. You know this guy… he disappeared for a few days and spent them with a woman other than his wife. Chemicals and pheromones? Soul mates reuniting?
His words:
This [relationship with Maria Chapur] was a whole lot more than a simple affair, this was a love story. A forbidden one, a tragic one, but a love story at the end of the day. (NYTimes.com 6/30/2009)
And:
I will be able to die knowing that I had met my soul mate [Chapur]. But it was one of those things, I knew the cost. (Associated Press 6/30/2009)
Hopefully these two videos can offer up some answers. The first video falls a little more in the chemicals/pheromones camp, and it captures the lust of that definition of true love. The second video is the greatest expression of what happens when two soul mates lose each other.
In all actuality, no they don’t. This is an AWFUL BATTLE… GO!
SIDE NOTE: The next video is a little long, but once you get the gist of the first five minutes (it’s a love story to himself… he smiles every time the song mentions it… hmm, I wonder why she left you?), skip to the 5:00 minute mark for the finale. Priceless!
I try not to pick on religion too much on this site, because I know a lot of people might see the url MonkeyBlogMonkeyDo and think, “Hey, they might have the answers I’m looking for!” And I’d be all like, “Yes, I do. It’s up in the Theory Sheet.”
So I’ll leave to the always wonderful Everything is Terrible to mock religion… particularly, a religious film starring none other than Kirk Cameron, Gary Busey, and the Lawnmower Man himself, Jeff Fahey (Jeff, you’ll always be The Marshal to me). Oh yeah. It’s about the rapture.
Some of my favorite quotes from the behind the scenes making of Left Behind:
It’s not a real movie until you blow something up!
You see a camel on sand… it says desert.
I think the success of this film really depends on a lotof people going to see it. [Producer's emphasis, not mine, unlike at the top of the post... that emphasis was all mine - Ed.]
Today is my half-birthday, and for those of you that drink milk through a straw, it means it’s six months since my birthday and six months until my birthday!
For heaped upon years, I’ve been trying to get family and friends alike to celebrate my half birthday by giving me presents. Their reply:
You didn’t get me anything for my half birthday.
My reply:
Because you didn’t get me anything for mine! I started the idea, and I’ll roll with it!
So for those of you reading this that know me, I will gladly accept one of the following three items. They are in no specific order. I have no preference. There are three to allow room for ‘a surprise,’ but the biggest surprise would be for everyone to work together on getting all three. And I will not go into any explanations other than “Me wanty!”
Known for being: poisonous, squishy, a fair-weather fan
Who’s says you can’t learn new things when you’re drinking? Time and again, when I make a point to remember the revelations experienced despite the buckets of booze in my system, chances are pretty decent I won’t forget.
For example: last night at trivia, a question we’ve had before reared it’s head.
Q: What type of bird is most commonly used as a state bird? It’s currently used by seven states. A: Cardinals.
I don’t know this. But I remembered it.
Just like I remember finding out that there’s a minor league baseball team in Albuquerque called the Isotopes. I did not previously know this, but I knew it had to be named after the team in The Simpsons. I did not remember that in one episode of the show, the home team was supposed to move to Albuquerque, but now I know via Wikipedia, and it makes their name choice that much less arbitrary and forgivable (sorry about the drunken tirade, Isotopes!)
Another thing I was forced to investigate after another drunken tirade was the notion of urinating on yourself after being stung by a jellyfish. Much debate was given on whether it had to be your pee, someone else’s pee, if it could be a beer piss, etc.
These are some facts things I discovered:
Urine can help.
Urine doesn’t do anything.
Urine can make things worse.
Soooo… hopefully I won’t encounter any jellyfish when I vacation in Mexico later this year. Now I know that I don’t know anything for sure, but I probably wouldn’t let someone pee on me, or me on myself, just in case. I just hope I remember that when I’m on the beach - and drunk.
I don’t even know if there’s an interest in the strange things I dream about, but it’s my blog and I can cry write about it if I want to. I look at it mostly as the catalog I always meant to keep, but um, now do.
Over all the years, and even the months of this site, I know many odd and wondrous things have slipped through the cracks. I collect here those that made it past the brain fade into oblivion, or the ones I care to share, which honestly are almost all… For example, I exclude those that are merely half ideas or lack narratives, like the dream where I had a motorcycle again (whoo hoo) or owned a gun that was combined with a bullhorn (a loudener, if you will).
For the sake of avoiding specifics on these dreams, I simply made montages. In one case, it’s a Montag.
DELIRIUM 1
INGREDIENTS: Penn & Teller, two elephants (one pictured), a giant spatula, and buckets of fake blood. It was one of their acts. It was initially horrifying, then not so much so.
DELIRIUM 2
INGREDIENTS: Well, more of an explanation is needed here… there was this baby that had oily (pre-acne) skin, and depending upon how you touched the infant’s back, the child would make musical note sounds like an ocarina. So as you held the baby in your arms, instead of crying, you heard elevator music, or the stylings of Kenny G.
DELIRIUM 3
INGREDIENTS: Spencer and Heidi Pratt and the cast of Kappa Mikey. Man, those two don’t know the meaning of the word overexposure… and yes, they were in this cartoon.
OVERALL INGREDIENTS FOR DELIRIUMS (OR DELERIA, IF YOU PREFER): Velveeta cheese after beer and Pizza Rolls before beer.
