The Inmates Run the Asylum

Tuesday night, I dreamed about being at my elementary school playground, putting on a talent show, and in a brief moment of WTF, Jason Alexander was there. Foolishly, I thought that my brain was mellowing out.

Yeah, right.

Wednesday night, I dreamed about getting involved with some gang bangers due to a case of mistaken identity; some girls set another girl on fire; some guys decided to pass the time torturing people and I barely managed to convince them not to crucify my friend Damon; and then we made our escape by driving away in a mobile home. So, yeah, that was a good time.

Then last night I dreamed that after I won some really fucked up lottery that involved winning some scary movies (including the Evil Dead trilogy) as well as three grand, I went to a drive-in movie with some guy in a convertible and we were attacked by a rotting demon with a chainsaw. We were saved by a bleached blond Ash Williams (circa Army of Darkness in terms of everything but hair), but not before the demon trapped us in the convertible and the chainsaw cut my arm. Honestly, the worst part of that dream for me was the blond Ash. Bruce Campbell does not look good with blond hair.

So, yeah, that's where my brain is at right now. Unrestrained, gory horror every time I close my eyes. Which you'd think would make me hesitant to go to sleep, but no. I don't even qualify those dreams as scary because I just rolled over and went back to sleep. A scary dream for me is one that keeps me awake.

Fun side note: In real life, I have no scream. Like, I open my mouth and nothing comes out. I think I've only been successful a couple of times in my life. Most of the time in my dreams, however, I've got a rip roarin' scream. Go figure.

My sister keeps texting me porn.

Not the good porn, either.

The childhood destroying kind of porn. The last one was The Pink Panther plowing Minnie Mouse.

I know why she sends them to me. To share the pain. She's big on not suffering this kind of trauma alone.

"Why do you know people who send you these things?" I asked once.

She said that most of them come from her boyfriend.

Mystery solved.

But the porn continues.

I should have known when I got the mail this morning and found that we got something for someone else (The Flower Corner? That's on Route 54. How do you confuse that with a strictly residential street?) that today would not be my day.

I went to the mall in search of a bra. Silly me, I thought that I should be able to walk into the store and fine the style I want and the size I need. HA! I could hardly find the size I need, and since I wasn't in the market for "old lady ugly", definitely didn't find the style.

On the walk out of the mall, I ended up with a blister on my left foot. These shoes have never given me a blister. Just another sign of the day.

I drove home, switched from the new Jeep, also known as Grape Ape, to my car (whatever Jeep is left at the house is to be taken out of town; my car is now strictly in-town driving only), and left again, this time to get some milk and bread at the grocery store and wash my car since both places are pretty much nextdoor to each other.

I pull into the car wash place and both of the back vacuums are occupied, but only one by an actual car. Some smartly dressed bitch with no car had her ass parked on the second one, chatting on her phone and smoking a cigarette. Annoyed, I pulled in, washed my car and then vacuumed it using the front vacuum, which I don't think is as good, because smartly dressed bitch still hadn't moved her smartly dressed ass and the other car (one of those new SUVs that look like a box on wheels) was still being vacuumed out. That lady was there a long time cleaning out her car. Like the whole time I cleaned AND vacuumed out mine. That car was brand new. It shouldn't have had that much shit in it.

Anyway, I'm just finishing up cleaning out and vacuuming my car when smartly dressed bitch goes walking by. If I had been a little quicker, I'd have had a new hood ornament.

I make it through the grocery store without incident and go home.

It then took two computers and three tries before I managed to order two bras online. According to what the site said, I should have them in about two weeks. *headdesk*

I swear to all that is unholy, the Universe wants me to have saggy titties.

Spot has been a bit pukey the past couple of days. There's two problems with this, aside from the obvious awww-my-kitty-isn't-feeling-well.

One: Spot is a stealth puker. No shit. You look, there's a cat and no puke. Look away. Look back, there's just puke. I've never seen a cat puke without making noise. It's bizarre.

Two: Spot's vomit has been watery. Meaning that it's harder to see, especially on the carpet. I've stepped in it twice today.

And about twenty minutes ago, I sat in it.

You read that right. I sat in cat vomit. I've got skills.

I pulled out my black chair to sit in front of the computer in a dimly lit room and did not look before I plopped. Spot puked in my chair.

Yeah. I think I'll be a little more vigilant in the future.