Dreams Dreams Dreams

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Oh, brain. Why are you so weird?

What are you doing up there all day while I’m making stupid decisions, cutting myself on every sharp or dull surface? I’m certainly not using you to your full, genius potential.

What it seems that my brain likes to do all day is turn my daily experiences into the weirdest dreams imaginable.

Yesterday I spent some time with my grandparents chickens. They’re great.
Naturally, my brain coupled this with my inherited love of wilderness stories, and my extreme nostalgia for childhood memories to come up with?
A fucking horrible nightmare in which my cousin Mandy and I had to protect our two rare chicken eggs from the terrifying centaurs who were chasing us through deeply wooded forests.
Just as we thought we’d surely been caught, trapped under a wooden boat outside a greying hunting lodge we were saved by…some cult members! Awesome!
Thanks for giving that dream a happy ending, brain. You’re the fucking best.

My poor, neglected blog.

My poor blog has been so neglected. I’ll take some time to fill you in.
Since my last post I…

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Recovered sort of, part of, a dresser and one of my switch plates with this delicious wallpaper from Spoonflower.

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The nice guys from Young River stopped into my work and gifted me this cd. I posted this on my Facebook claiming they were “extremely handsome” and in true fashion, we had mutual friends. Social awkwardness…will never end.

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I drew this cartoon about Jesus and hopefully offended religious people everywhere. Or delighted them.

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I spotted all of the coolest vehicles.

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And one dozen puppies in the back of a vehicle driven by the most delightful bearded redneck I’ve ever met.
LOOK AT THESE FUCKING PUPPIES!

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I drank a metric fuck ton of alcohol. Including, but not limited to, this delicious Spring Lager. Nature then said, “Fuck You!” and it’s been snowing ever since.

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I visited my grandparents and had a chance to play with the chickens and kittens in the barn. Like most people, I fucking love my grandparents. Papa and I laughed at a bird feeder that violently ejects squirrels. My beautiful Gram helped me rustle up this gorgeous, emerald eyed kitten so she can be rehomed.

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I only got stuck in traffic one time!

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And I probably only called my father crying… three times.

Life! It’s exciting.

Date Nine

It’s rainy. It’s gross out. There are so many dates to go on. I’m wearing my pajamas and sitting in my room eating just so, so many Triscuits. I could go on a date with this Triscuit and it’s whole wheat goodness. It would be, hands down, the most pleasant date of all time.

Instead, I get a message from *Ed. Ed wants to Skype. Cool, whatever, I download Skype. I fix only the area above my shoulders for Ed’s Skyping pleasure.

Wow. Ed is not the same man as he was in his picture.

He actually could be the same man. I don’t know, because all I see on the screen is a giant floppy dick. Dick. Floppy dick. I didn’t say disk. Floppy disks don’t exist anymore. They were never as floppy as what Ed is showing off right now.

I want to be cool about this and say so many rude comments about Eds penis. I really do. This is a level of awkwardness I’ve rarely experienced. I’m waiting for him to say something really weird. Nothing.  All I can hear is the weird… flopping sound.

I can feel my retinas murdering themselves. I have to escape. I shout, “Your dick sucks!” and slam my computer closed.

Never again. Never. Again.

Let’s Sue DQ.

So I’m laying in my bed, watching Ancient Aliens and eating some onion rings. Routine Sunday night.
I’m eating these onion rings. I’m gazing at the little box they come in. Holy. Fuck. I just made someone…probably close to a million dollars.

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Look at this kid. Really look at her. That’s right, Dairy Queen has convinced this kid to hold hot, greasy onion rings DIRECTLY OVER HER EYES.

Now, no where on this box does it say, “You know what? Don’t actually put onion rings on your face. They’re likely so fucking hot.”
No where.

Say you had a kid you don’t even like that much. It’s ugly, it’s annoying, whatever! You want that insurance money, bitch! If you don’t really mind that your spawn is going to have red, blistery, probably pimply burns all around their eyes, well, go ahead and encourage them to pose for a cute “onion ring glasses” selfie.

You’re now so fucking rich. You’re welcome.

February 17th. The new Valentines Day.

Sometimes Valentines Day comes to you a little late. You barely notice that the actually holiday is gone. A few days later? BAM! You’re enveloped in cheese, forced romance, wine, chocolate, unsolicited gifts from exes…

Now don’t confuse what I’m trying to say here. I hate Valentines Day. For actual Valentines Day I crafted a dick out of bell peppers and decorated a dip with it.

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But today? Today I received a card from my mother. So sweet. Winnie the Pooh themed. Loved it.

Oh, and the last guy I dated just stopped in at my other job with a…necklace and earrings…that were…a very sweet thought…but not quite….me. Awkward. I mean awesome. I mean…did that happen?

I get home? The guys I live with present me with a DELICIOUS box of chocolates. Oh, and there was wine here. Pink wine. Some call it “rosè”. Fuck you,…those people.
Anyways, I’ve eaten most of those chocolates and drank almost all of that wine.

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Happy belated Valentines Day. I’m sure your actual V Day was equally as awkward and alcohol fueled. Pound it.

Bonus points if you spent fake Valentines Day holding hands (tiny, red hands) with a dog that wasn’t yours and doesn’t even like you that much.

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Pretty coloured carrots and, oh yes, more cocks.

So I cut open a carrot for my stir fry. Was I expecting a mother fucking rainbow!? Nope.

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But I got one.

Also, as I was eating some food that was terrible for me… I discovered a tiny little penis. Just in time for Valentines Day!

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Hahahahaha! Look at that butter doodle. It looks like a dick. Perfect. It went stale in the few hours that it took me to get around to taking a snapshot. Cocks do have an expiry date. Science.