whiski_sour: (Fishy people)
This afternoon I went into the bathroom and found one of my dad's gun books lying open on the floor in front of the toilet. It was opened to the beginning of the J's, so I did pause a moment to wonder just how long of a shit he'd taken. Then I realized this probably doesn't happen in most people's houses.

Then just a little bit ago, I walked into the kitchen to find Dad sitting at the computer with a rifle lying across a box sitting next to the desk. I figured he was either expecting some serious shit to go down or he didn't know how to use the pop-up blocker.

Turns out he was just searching for parts for the gun online.

You see why I don't ask about things? It's not as much fun as not knowing.

In other news, I had a dream last night that I was in school again (oh joy) with a bunch of my old classmates and some people I didn't know. My algebra teacher was teaching some kind of English/Art project that I wasn't paying attention to and neither were a lot of other people. But at one point, a guy I went to school, big, tall guy named Steve, got into the face of another big, tall guy that I vaguely recognized at the time and told the guy that if he left a mark on me (!!!) that he'd have his ass. I ended up separating the two of them.

It was a shocking dream because I've never had anyone in my waking life defend me like that.

Also, I have no idea what Steve was talking about. But still! It was nice that he defended my honor and whatnot.


Oct. 3rd, 2010 10:30 pm
whiski_sour: (marshmellow stupid)
Mom's birthday was yesterday. Because she doesn't like to be odd numbers, she's defaulting back to 50 instead of being 51.

This got me thinking about my impending birthday in January.

I don't mind turning 31 or being 31. Age has little influence on me to begin with. But I don't like the sound of 31. I don't like the way the word sounds. And if I don't like the way the word sounds, then I don't want to spend a whole year being it.

So come January, I've decided that instead of being 31 I'm going to be 30 Bonus Year.

That just sounds way cooler than being 31.

Ah, my issues with numbers. Both hereditary and bizarre.
whiski_sour: (Busted!)
My father, the one who thought we were overreacting with out interwebs withdrawl last month, is now an Internet addict.

He's usually on the computer at least once a day, searching random, random things. Or catalog shopping. Or looking at dating sites. Or mail order bride sites. I've requested a Samoan stepmother.

As far as I know, he hasn't found the porn, but I've already told him not to find the porn because I don't have the anti-virus software and whatnot for that.

He is checking his own email now. He is hilariously bad at it, asking me beginner questions while trying to look like he already knows the answer, and I don't know if he knows how to send an email, but I kinda doubt it.

At least he's checking it himself now so I don't have to.
whiski_sour: (wtfx4)
I had a great dream last night, one for the books. Or in this case, the LJ.

It started off with me being called in as a relief pitcher for the Cubs. We were losing 6-16 and for some reason Jeff Baker was my catcher (odd because Jeff Baker is an infielder, not a catcher). Except Jeff wasn't at the game (being held in some bizarre park behind a hotel) and I had to go find him before I could pitch. I'm guessing they just put the game on hold while I went roaming around, looking for my lost catcher.

I ended up going in the hotel, which was hosting a con of some kind, and I ran into a friend of mine as we both got on this bizarre glass elevator that seemed to have functioning issues. It wouldn't stop long enough on a floor to let you off safely and it descended way too fast. This was all fun and frustrating until a giant lizard of some kind appeared out of nowhere. I'm not normally bothered by lizards, but in this case I made an exception, and I bailed from that elevator as quickly as I could.

And I admit it: I left my friend. Hey, I'll remember her fondly, but when giant, obviously-going-to-eat-me lizards are involved, it's every able bodied person for themselves.

This move ended up being a frying pan to fire manuever as it turned out the whole hotel was infested by dinosaurs. Mostly of the meat eating kind, velociraptors and a T-Rex, and the lesser raved about allisaurus. After cowering in a corner to avoid the attentions of the T-Rex (man, I hoped Jurassic Park was right when they said that T-Rex responds to movement), I ended up running for the door with a group of people, but the only face I recognized was Nathan Fillion, for some odd reason.

And then I woke up.

Consequently, I've been pretty sore today, particularly by right shoulder. I guess I'm just not up to snuff when it comes to major league relief-pitching and running from dinosaurs.
whiski_sour: (Fishy people)
My brain is on one of it's bizarre jags again, and by that I of course mean more bizarre than usual.

Night before last, my dream was inspired by a mash-up of Adventures in Babysitting, Blair Witch 2, and SyFy's Mothman. The latter two I can understand since I watched them right before I went to bed (yeah, I have no fear of nightmares), but I haven't seen the former in years. Not a clue how it got into the mix.

Last night featured Uncle Jesse and Aunt Becky from Full House and [livejournal.com profile] luchalibrarian staying at my house and [livejournal.com profile] luchalibrarian unhappy with the prospect of leaving her car at my house because we weren't sure it'd make the drive back home; gargoyles falling from buildings on the square; and Harris, Wojo, and Dietrich from Barney Miller and me trying to blind velociraptors with these bizarre fire extinguisher things in this tiny room with no exit.

Yes, that was one continuous dream.

I'm anticipating more batshit goodness for tonight's sleep, but in the end, I probably won't dream at all.

My brain doesn't like it when I start having fun, too.

ETA: I'm disappointed that LJ's spellcheck doesn't recognize "Wojo", but amused that it wants to replace it with "Woo". Woo, indeed.
whiski_sour: (wtfx4)
Dear Erik Estrada:

I like you well enough, even if I do think your smile is scary in person, but I see no reason for your presence to invade my dreams. I don't want to do a scavenger hunt with you. Please, don't force me. It makes me uncomfortable.

Good luck with that,

Dear Subconsicous:

Erik Estrada? Really? I know we love the 70's more than is necessary, but Erik Estrada? What the fuck have you been smoking?

Continually perplexed by your choices,
whiski_sour: (not bad)
I did not spring ahead this year with much grace. I went to bed far too late, woke up far too early, stayed awake an hour, went back to sleep, and finally woke up far too late, which is probably going to cost me when I try to go to sleep at a decent time tonight.

I sacrificed my lost hour to watching Slither in the wee hours. I went to bed right after the credits started to roll.

You'd think that watching a gross horror comedy like that would give me nightmares about fast slugs and Michael Rooker turning into some kind of lumpy blob mutant. But no. I dreamed about Nathan Fillion and at some point, he turned into a cat.

Don't ask me to explain it because I'm not sure exactly how, when, or why it happened, but it did.

So, on one hand, no nightmares. On the other hand, no dream make-out session with Nathan Fillion. I guess I broke even.

At least he purred when I pet him.
whiski_sour: (wtf?)
So, I have problem skin. Honestly, I should probably go to a dermetologist about it, but I don't have the money and dermetologists don't take chickens in trade and even if they did, I don't have a chicken, so it really doesn't matter.

Anyway, I've tried various different lotions and whatnot to help ease my condition and some have worked pretty well, but I'm always on the lookout to try something better. The other day I decided to give cocoa butter lotion a try. It's supposed to be really good stuff. Women with stretchmarks swear by it and though that's not what I'm dealing with, it is supposed to be good for the skin problems I have.

What I didn't realize is that it would smell. It's not a bad smell or anything, but I'm used to using lotions that have no fragrance. This smells very sweet. And it doesn't really fade. I put it on yesterday morning and I could still smell it when I went to bed last night. And every time I got a whiff of it, it reminded me of something that I couldn't quite place.

Today it hit me.

I smell like a basket of Easter candy, minus the fake grass.

While that's not necessarily a bad thing, it does make me crave sweets more than usual.

And it's just kind of odd smelling like a holiday. At least for me.
whiski_sour: (wtf?)
I'm going through another stretch of having trouble sleeping. Falling asleep and staying asleep are just not of the good (it doesn't help when a cat assaults your door for an hour either). The best sleep I got was sometime after four and it lasted until about eight.

Unfortunately, this stretch of sleep featured a dream that included the following:

-my old elementary school playground
-a two person scooter
-a childhood friend
-my grandparents house
-killer bees
-Jeffrey Donovan
-Dom from NCIS: LA
-my garage
-Eric from NCIS: LA
-alien mutant squid
-an alien baby that would kill us all if her core temperature got too hot
-dancing with Beyonce
-a shopping center parking lot
-a sandstorm turned flood in Las Vegas
-disaster survivors holed up in a hotel
-a hotel room filled with stashes of cheetos and no dry towels

Yeah. I don't know either. My brain likes to keep it lively.
whiski_sour: (marshmellow stupid)
I got sucked into watching some awful Judd Nelson/Kristy Swanson SyFy movie. The badness and Judd Nelson's hair were truly mesmerizing.

It was like someone decided they wanted to make a movie about a black hole, but felt it wasn't enough for a two hour film, so he added in bits of an unfinished script about an electicity monster and set the whole thing in St. Louis.

Someone actually said, "The air is gusting."

If that doesn't put the badness into perspective, nothing I say will.

I kinda wish I taped it, though, because it is ripe for MiSTing. I had some great jokes going and I only watched an hour of it.

Speaking of badness, I taped Man with a Screaming Brain last night and I think I'm going to watch it tomorrow. I can't think of a better thing to do with my Sunday.

[livejournal.com profile] one_more_cherry and [livejournal.com profile] gypsyjr, sorry I couldn't make it on AIM to chat tonight. It took me an hour to post this entry because the Internet kept flaking out on me. Maybe next week.
whiski_sour: (Que?)
Me: They're dropping like flies today.
Carrie: Who?
Me: First Ted Kennedy, now Dominick Dunne.
Dad: And one at Weldon Springs.
Me: One at Weldon Springs?
Dad: Suicide by drowning.
Me: At Weldon Springs? I bet the algae got him.
Dad: That's been taken into consideration. It's in the report.
whiski_sour: (wtf?)
Please note: We had steak fajitas for dinner.

Me: I'm going to have to have popcorn later.
Carrie: There's still stir fry left.
Me: Bzuh?

I'm not sure if that's an insult to my cooking or a comment on Carrie's mental processes.

I'm leaning towards the latter, if only to save my own ego.
whiski_sour: (handy liquor)
I watched The Blair Witch 2: Book of Shadows. Well, most of it anyway.

Dad watched some old black and white movie about killer mold.

Guess who got the better deal on that one.

I'll give you a hint.

From the killer mold movie:

Doctor of Killer Mold: *looking at a pile of mold with a hand sticking out of it* I think the mold is carnivorous.
Dad: Really? Well, I see why you're the one with PhD.

From BW2:

Jeff (who oddly enough looked like he had some mold growing on his chin): This makes no sense!
Me: Yeah, I came to that conclusion about this movie a long time ago.

It's really hard to MiST a movie when you have no idea what's going on. And I had no idea what was going on. I don't think the writer did, either.

However, I get a bad movie reprieve because my favorite "we'll CGI your death later" movie, Pterodactyl, is on in a little bit. Now that's a movie you can MiST. Bonus David Nykl.

Hopefully, the killer mold movie will be on again soon, too. That's one I need to watch all the way through.
whiski_sour: (impure thoughts)
I've been watching Venture Bros. before bed every night for the past several weeks and I have to tell you, I'm hooked on their crack.

More disturbingly, I'm getting much too emotionally involved in this repeat storyline than anyone should get involved in a cartoon period.

Also, I think Brock Samson is kinda hot for a cartoon character.

That's not right, is it?
whiski_sour: (wtf?)
Last week I dreamed that I had a rocking makeout session with Nathan Fillion.

Last night I dreamed that I and three other people beat up and robbed a church deacon.

This was after the dream that started off with a wedding and ended with a search for a missing person at the Apple and Pork Festival and some point in between it rained and I changed clothes.

I'd give five dollars to know what was going on inside of my head.
whiski_sour: (seems inapproriate)
I had a dream last night in which cows had difficulty using Twitter because they had trouble with homonyms.

Yeah. Nothing about trying to type or text with their hooves. All about not being able to distinguish between "there", "their", and "they're", and the like.


Jealous of my brain, aren't you?
whiski_sour: (Busted!)
I woke up with morning to find a bloody tissue in my bed and a little blood on my face and only the fuzziest of memories that I dreamed about Jeffrey Donovan.

So, clearly, the logical explanation is that Jeffrey Donovan is an unscarred, living version of Freddy Kruger who invaded my dreams and busted me in the nose for endlessly mocking him for getting a DUI.

Had I known he possessed that power, I would have kept my mouth shut.

Now I know and knowing is half the battle.
whiski_sour: (*headdesk*)
I know several people were up at all hours last night to watch Harry Potter. I did not go see the movie, but I was up at all hours.

I probably fell asleep a little after two and I woke up at 4:30 to a storm. Nothing serious, but I decided to go to the bathroom.

It was the wrong decision.

My body treated the early morning pee break as the signal that my nap was over. Sometimes after a couple of hours, I'll fall back to sleep. This was not one of those times. I figured that out by about seven.

So, I officially started my day. The only good thing about getting up that early is that I got to watch Imagination Movers.

I like that show. I like the songs. Shut up.

I did get to take a three hour nap later in the afternoon, though. And despite the lack of sleep, I was surprisingly coherent and productive.

Though the sleep deprevation might explain why I ended up watching a biography on the BeeGees.

I don't know why else I'd watch it.
whiski_sour: (wtfx4)
I've been reading Death by Stupidity here and there over the past few days. Lots of Darwinism, lots of freak accidents, so much irony.

But, so far, the one death that I have boggled over the most is the lady who repeatedly ran over her husband because she thought his body was inhabited by the spirit of Mickey Mouse.

Yeah. Popped your brain like that, too, huh?

I just...I don't even know how you'd start thinking your husband was possessed by Mickey Mouse. Did he have a high voice? Did he have big ears? Did he like to wear white gloves? Did he pal around with a talking dog that wore pants? Help me out here.

It's like what Lewis Black talks about in his stand up routine. Something so ridiculous and stupid gets in your ear, burrows into your brain, and makes blood shoot out your nose.

That's going to happen to me.

Mickey Mouse. Really. I just...I can't.
whiski_sour: (Can you stand on your head?)
I'm sitting at the computer this afternoon, minding my own, when an unexpected KABOOM! of thunder nearly makes me leave my skin.

It's not raining. There wasn't any lightening. I looked out the backdoor and saw that it looked rather forboding towards the south and the east, but I didn't think much of it. Ten minutes go by and I am just getting up to go hole up in my bedroom to write while watching the Cubs game when the power goes out.

It blinks once. Twice. I shut off the power strip. The power quits surging. Now, the power blinking at 8:35 this morning woke me up, but it only stayed off long enough to mess up the clocks. This time, the power stayed out.

Then it started to rain and the wind picked up a bit, but nothing major (our power has stayed on through tornado warnings and torndadoes) so I couldn't be sure the weather was the cause.

We live on a weird circuit; there's only four houses on it, I think. In the daylight, it's hard to tell who has power and who doesn't. Carrie and I figured that with a daycare nextdoor, the neighbor would have called the power company pretty quickly.

An hour goes by and still no power. That's unusual for us. The longest we've had to wait to get the power fixed in recent memory was during an ice storm and that's understandable.

So Carrie calls the power company and navigates its automated menu to get to a message that says they are aware of our problem and that 650 customers are without power. That's quite a stretch for such a small town.

Not too long after the call, they get the power back on. Later, I find out from Dad that it was indeed the storm. Lightening struck someplace on the southeast side of town. We were all impressed that it knocked the power out all the way over here.

And then to wrap up my off-kilter day, I had to run out into the rainy night, armed with only a flashlight, to save a baby rabbit from the neighbor's two cats, Loki and Rascal. I had to call Carrie on my cell to have her bring me out a towel because I couldn't catch the bunny, but I couldn't leave it either because Loki kept trying to go after it.

In my attempts to catch it, I ended up running the poor thing into a very secure hiding spot where he'll be safe for the night (he wasn't hurt all that bad that I could tell) before running the cats home.

All in all, my day has been interesting times.


whiski_sour: (Default)

February 2014



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