May 3rd, 2008 Riley
I would love to be writing this to brag about the dream I had last night. I mean, look at that post title. It sounds good, doesn’t it?
Laura Pausini has invaded my dreams.
Sounds good.
Andrea Corr has invaded my dreams.
Sounds good.
The Angie Harmon/Aubrey Dollar double-stack has invaded my dreams.
Sounds reeeeaaaaalllll good.
But do I get a Friday night of lust-inducing, fantasy-filled dream fare? Oh no. I get to go to work again.
You see, I’ve noticed a frightening thing in the comments on here. A lot of people are coming home from bad days. Is everyone really as stressed out and unsatisfied as I am? How can that even be?
So, here is a healthy does of schadenfreude to make you all feel better.
Last night, I dreamed that I showed up at work, bad enough in itself, but there was more. In an effort to curtail my unfortunate work behavior, they had moved furniture around so that my desk and that of my cubicle neighbor set side-by-side. We literally were sitting right next to each other, about a foot apart. Close… too close. Close enough that she could reach out and touch me if she was feeling particularly pervy. Close enough that she would be able to hear whether or not there was actually sound coming from my headphones, making obsolete my method of avoiding small talk by wearing my headphones at all times even when I’m not listening to anything.
The worst part? This dream lasted, like, a long damn time. I went to work twice yesterday! Twice! And the second time it was worse than usual.
This is a seriously disconcerting turn of events. I can barely go to work once in a day. If I start going nightly as well, it’s not going to be pretty. There might be arsenic involved… and old lace. And booze. And repetitive viewing of the scene in Better Off Dead when John Cusack is in the garbage truck and the guy says, “Somebody threw away a perfectly good white boy.”
And now I have to go off and get cracked. By the chiropractor. Quit thinking dirty.
Well, hope this little snippet of the suckfest that was my Friday night dreaming makes you chuckle and be glad that you didn’t dream about work. Unless you did, and, in that case, I empathize.
Posted in Honest Absolute Proof that I am Crazy for Real | 7 Comments »
April 21st, 2008 Riley
Actually a comparison to coffee might make this a better homily, because that’s what we drink in my family. I spent a day with them over the weekend and when that occurs I always come away with something of comedic value. Seventy-five percent of the time it comes from my Great Aunt Mary. She’ll be 88 next month and when she isn’t being racist, she really is a fount of amusement.
We were talking about height, a conversation that always starts with a mention of one of my nephews and how tall he will be. I swear to God, if Aunt Mary knows growth, my nephews are going to be seven-foot-five and have biceps the size of small mountains. So, anyway, after the discussion regarding what it’s like to have such giants in the family, the conversation turned to Aunt Mary’s height and how she probably won’t be getting much taller. There wasn’t much I could say, as I am only an inch taller than her, and I’m afraid I’ve reached my limit as well. But I was still messing with her, because that’s what I do. I wasn’t wearing any shoes, so I said to her -
“I’m taller than you and you’ve got shoes.”
She looks down and, without missing a beat, responds -
“You’ve got toes.”
Then she chuckled at herself.
I totally get it honest.
Posted in Honest Absolute Proof that I am Crazy for Real | 1 Comment »
April 15th, 2008 Riley
What if you had a Tourettes-like condition where, whenever you sneezed, instead of it coming out “hachoo” you loudly sneezed “hasidic jew”.
Super unfortunate or a special kind of awesome?
I can’t decide.
Posted in Honest Absolute Proof that I am Crazy for Real | 1 Comment »
January 8th, 2008 Riley
I know what you’re wondering. Has this bitch always been crazy, or is it the unending string of failures that have put her on the invisible choo-choo to crazy town?
Well, I’m not going to lie to you. While I would like to blame the injustice in the world, my inability to make a living at what I love to do, and adulthood on my just this side of certifiable insanity, there have been signs from almost the very beginning that there is something just not right here. By here, I mean, of course, inside my head. And by not right, I mean, of course, disturbed.
Seriously, seriously disturbed.
And remember…
I’m not just a citizen of crazy town. I’m also the mayor.
Posted in Honest Absolute Proof that I am Crazy for Real | 6 Comments »
