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And by "go to bed", I mean "have the sex"
Wesley Dodds
hellblazer
I just woke up from a very odd dream. I was at home, home home, by myself in the house, but only because my family was gone somewhere (where was unknown to me at the time, but it didn't seem to matter and I was sure they were coming back); I was there with a very petite Chinese girl who was my girlfriend/wife, who's name I either didn't know or just can't remember now. She looked very very familiar to me, but she wasn't anyone that I (in real life) know. I was living at home in the dream, and she had just moved in. She'd emptied out my mother's medicine cabinet and put her things inside, which consisted of filling the bottom shelf with dental floss, disposable razors, and those weird little things that look like miniature cheese slicers on one end and toothpicks on the other. We kept trying to go to bed, in my mother's old bed that she got rid of years and years ago, but people kept calling us and interrupting us, once to see if we wanted to go eat dinner and once to see if we could come solve a mystery. Solving mysteries was apparently our job, since that one we got up and put our clothes back on to go do. I also made a dinner that we never got to eat which consisted of frying up whole pig's heads that were about the size of plums. During the course of solving the mystery we were somehow led back to our own house, and I tried to put them in a container and save them for later, but I ended up ruining two shirts by staining them with grease, because somehow they were still hot.

I woke up confused and thristy, only to find the half-bottle of pepsi I left sitting on my desk when I went to bed last night lying on its side, empty. I have absolutely no memory of drinking it.
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(no subject)
Self-Portrait 3
hellblazer
-- I should have just rolled over this morning and let that dream go. Then maybe I would have gotten more than four hours of sleep last night. I went from "barely able to see bleary-eyed" to "wide awake" in the half-hour it took me to type it up and then whip up that Sandman icon.

-- My body seems to be actively trying to destroy itself in retaliation for the fact that I'm doing everything in my power to give it a much needed upgrade. Either that or the insane spree of cleaning and activity I went on yesterday has thrown my systems into a tailspin, which is far more likely. In either case, I don't think I'll be making it to kung fu tonight. I'm a hop skip and a jump away from having a "honey, turn the car around" moment, if you get my meaning, which most of you won't. But those of you that do know I mean business.

-- Other than my bastard gullet betraying me, life proceeds apace in a most satisfactory fashion. I went absolutely apeshit yesterday and for the most part, washed everything that wasn't nailed down. Shirts, sheets, pants, couch cushions, everything. I swept and scrubbed and washed and folded and re-arranged and packed stuff off to storage and just this very moment came up with a genius idea of what to do with the hat that's taking up an entire shelf in my closet. Plans for the Freak Kennel are done and locked in far far in advance of when we usually get such things finalized, and in general I just feel great. And I'm trying my damndest to not assume that all that means a shitstorm the likes of which could kill a man is looming on the horizon.

(no subject)
Self-Portrait 3
hellblazer
-- It is a sad and pathetic fact of life that there are times when Jan De Bont's magnum opus Speed is the best thing on television. Which, I suppose, is why God invented books. And teh intarweb.

-- Watching a quartet of nubile young Japanese girls chatter amongst each other and giggle over the candy shelf in the supermarket really is one of the sublime pleasures of life.