Wednesday, December 06, 2006

Girls with the greenest eyes, first time you have kissed…

1. Dreams…this is really gross, so skip this if you have ever eaten pancakes. I had a dream nightmare a few weeks back that has been haunting me. It was one of those nightmares where you are happily hitting Roseanne Barr doggystyle. It isn’t until you wake up and remember the dream that it becomes a nightmare and makes you question your sexuality/sanity/gender. This was the dream: I made a big plate of fluffy pancakes and went out to my front lawn to eat them. In the street, there were several car wrecks and I excitedly rushed around to each vehicle dipping my pancakes in open gashes, soaking them in blood and devouring them. What does that even mean?? How fucked up does that make me??

2. Christmas is around the corner. I remember getting my first Cabbage Patch Kid. I was so excited to open it up and look at her birth certificate and see what her name was. Would it be Marie or Becky or Jennifer?! I ripped open the package to see the name Olive Guinevere. I remember looking at my mother with an expression that said, What the fuck is this??? Olive???. I promptly changed her name to Karen and filled her pacifier hole with food. I think there is still some moldy cookie in her head.

10 Comments:

Blogger Sean said...

you know. SOMETIMES i start to feel a little sad about not dreaming or remembering my dreams, whichever it is. then i hear/read about someone dreaming of happily hitting roseanne barr doggy style or the pancakes thing and i'm quite content in my blank screens.

8:40 AM  
Blogger The Grunt said...

Let's see, other people's suffering sustains you? It is either that or your brain assembles the information of the day into a script so that it has something to do with that information. Usually, that is what dreams are, just your brain trying to make sense of all this left over information.

9:43 AM  
Blogger Jerk Of All Trades 2.0 said...

THIS is why I eat waffles.

You're not right in the head.
I like that about you.

Even though you totally pussed out with the "I'm not gonna write about my boyfriend. What if he finds out he's boring!" crap.

*Cough*wussy*cough*

10:02 AM  
Blogger bronxbt said...

well, i may be alone here, but i respect your decision to yank the angst posts about yer guy.

of course, that also says you don't have yer fans as possible advisors which i would hope you've found helpful in the past.

choices are yours tho, and i at the least hope you make the right decisions that are, well.. right for you only...

'cuz in the end, you only have yourself sweetie.

Regarding the dream, HOLY FRAKKIN GROSS... but i've had some pretty morbid and nasty ones too, so i can't judge.

ms butterworth's thick consistancy always reminds me of drying blood, so don't get me started there...
(seen a lot of blood in my stoopid life, so don't ask)

B

10:10 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

holy shit that's one fucked up dream....

SarahReznor

11:51 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Pancakes are the nector of life for you?

3:51 PM  
Blogger kari said...

oh man, i totally remember the mad dash for cabbage patch dolls in '84. people were TRAMPLED for the damn things! trampled!

6:17 PM  
Blogger Scott said...

I got a cabbage patch kid when I was a little one as well. His name was Otis and was an African American. I got to learn all about different cultures at a very very young age.

Odd dream dude.

Scott

7:54 PM  
Blogger jules said...

You are so fucked up. But you knew that, right?

8:12 PM  
Blogger Dave Morris said...

I would join the rest of your commenters and tell you how weird the dream was, and how you are eaten up with rottenness or insanity from the core of your very being. But no.

I remember when the whole cabbage patch frenzy took place. A friend of mine got her daughter one named Aleece Tilda. WTF? What ever happened to Sally or Debbie dolls?

8:53 AM  

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