Snow Guns

What little I can recall of my short lived dreams in the middle of the night, is very fragmented – and very f*cked up. I’ll blame the antibiotics I’m on. Last night was the first dose, and my sleep sucked more than usual.

I can’t recall a beginning or an end. All I remember is I was trying to shoot something to keep it from killing me, and that the neighbors were all outside watching to see if I’d survive.

They were laughing, and it was pissing me off, because I couldn’t figure out why, until I went to grab my gun, which was buried in the snow near my car. Someone had apparently hidden it. Thanks, folks. I love you too.

Meanwhile, the neighbors began pointing fingers at each other – except for one. And she was wearing a bikini.

Completely disregarding the beast that was trying to eat me alive, I had to find out why this chick was wearing a bikini. But by the time I reached her, she had transported us to a hotel beach resort. Hungry beast problem solved!

But then we were in a hotel room, where she took off her bikini to get in the tanning booth inside of our bathroom. What kind of hotel has tanning booths in the rooms? Sign me up if I ever win the lottery!

When room service came knocking, we had to be quiet, because room service was actually the porn police, who apparently found out we had porn and toys in the room. HUH??? WHERE? Lights out!

But the pounding on the door didn’t stop. And for some reason – probably because of the porn and toys – the hotel room was now my parents’ old bedroom, and then I was frantically trying to find hiding places for shit, before my parents got home.

And then I woke up, coughing up a lung, because this creeping crud called flu won’t let me bloody sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. Except when I wanted to lie back down after going to the bathroom, an attack of restless legs and a hot flash decided to have a little fun with me.

F*ck you, flu.

I need a nap.

I Can Breathe

…so to speak…

For weeks, I’ve been dreading going for my yearly physical, which I haven’t actually had in probably 4 years. I don’t like doctors. They make me anxious.


I must admit I’ve been careless for the past couple of years, not getting much sleep, and eating poorly. I don’t get vaccinations, because I usually react badly. The last time I got a flu shot, my arm swelled. And, I always get the f*cking flu within a day or two.

Well, guess freaking what. I got the flu all on my own this year. And I gave it to my poor son. My husband has threatened to throw me out if he gets it. But he’s still good to me.

He cooks and cleans for me. He buys me whatever I want when I feel like this. He makes our bed every night. He doesn’t come looking for me when I want to sleep in my chair for half of the night because he knows I breathe better when I’m upright. And he isn’t making me leave the house when I don’t want to.

Except for today. He took a day off work to make sure I went to the doctor. Well, that’s not the only reason why. My ears are such a mess with infection that it’s making my damn vertigo 4407854304 times worse. So, he drove me to my appointment.

After getting the third degree from the triage nurse, and a cuff that just about snapped my arm off, I got relatively good news. My blood pressure is surprisingly decent, considering my current condition, and I don’t need to go back for another 6 months for a blood pressure check.

But, as everyone knows, with good news comes bad. But it isn’t as bad as I thought.

Given my countless allergies, the doctor has ordered an extensive panel of blood work to determine exactly what foods I’m allergic to. FML. I’m to follow up with a nutritionist, who will create a diet for me which will hopefully reduce the inflammation in my body, which will hopefully clear up a whole slew of other issues I’ve dealt with my entire life.

We will see.

Meanwhile, I’ve had about enough of snow and cold. Plans are in the works for a major change, which will involve much warmer temperatures, and a new page in the book of life.

Until then, I’ll bite the proverbial bullet, and go through the motions, preparing things gradually. Gradual is a lot easier on my frazzled (is that a word?) nerves, imo.

And finally, I still hate long paragraphs. I think it stems from one of my Catholic school teachers. But don’t quote me on that.

Ancient Miracles – AHAAAA!

A million years ago, when me and my brothers were kids, my mother used to have a little cupboard of miracles.

Okay, they weren’t miracles, but DAMN the things she had in that cupboard worked wonders! One of them was called tincture of benzoin, and she used it as a decongestant. NO, we didn’t swallow it! CHRIST. It’s a topical … miracle. It serves many purposes.

It can be applied to the skin, like a liquid bandage of sorts, whilst protecting against infection. It also can be used in an alternative manner, placing about a half teaspoon in a large kettle of steaming water, at a low boil – just beyond simmering. We used a large empty coffee can. But good luck finding one of those. I suggest purchasing a kettle solely for the use of the tincture.

But where the heck can you find this stuff in the age of advanced medicine and greedy pharmaceuticals? I can’t tell you how many local pharmacies I called asking for this stuff, only to be told “it isn’t on the market any longer”. Liar McFriars!

I looked it up on Amazon. I can order it. But I need it now! So, I’ll either have to fork over an arm for overnight shipping, or suffer until Monday, when a specialty apothecary will be open, and pray to the elders that they carry this little miracle in a bottle.

Believe me when I tell you, this stuff used to break all of my congestion loose within a day or two. There’s nothing worse than not being able to breathe.

Meanwhile, if you’re curious about tincture of benzoin, please ask your doctor first. It’s not for everyone, and certainly not a replacement for any medications prescribed by your doctor. Hopefully your doctor is older, and knows about older, alternative home remedies.

Check it out here, on Wikipedia. It’s very accurate in the description of its uses.

And now I have something on my mother. She always swore up and down that alternative medicine didn’t work. Just wait until my day comes. I’m going to shake a stern finger at her, like she always did to me.


Three Vaginas

This is supposed to be Dream Journal Number … Dammit. I’ve lost track of which one. But I have an excuse. I have the plague. And until a few days ago, I haven’t really remembered much of my dreams. And I’m thinking of doing something with these dreams. So, I might not be blogging them every day.

But be prepared for some crazy shit.

Last night wasn’t exactly a good night. I was up and down all night until my husband went to work. That’s when I finally dragged ass from the living room to the bedroom, where my fluff (a big down comforter) was waiting to suck me into the depths of fever dreams.

What I dreamed about early this morning could possibly make Stephen King cringe. Talk about weird. And why are fever dreams almost always sexual? Or is that just my perverted subconscious?

So I started out walking in a forest. Or was it … wait. It was a forest, except it was in Fillory, and there weren’t many trees. And if you don’t know what Fillory is, I highly suggest watching The Magicians. The first 2 seasons are on Netflix, and season 3 is currently on episode 3 on the SyFy channel.

Anyways, I’m walking through the forest in Fillory, looking for food. A munchkin out of Wizard of Oz is also searching. But he has chains. He tells me I need the chains, or I won’t catch anything to eat. Since Fillory is a magical place, I automatically assumed the chains were magical. So I graciously accepted them, thanked the munchkin, and continued with my quest.

When I finally found some food, others appeared, also holding chains, except each chain had 3 vaginas on the end of them. The vaginas had teeth, and they were screaming FEED ME! Yes. They resembled that fricken plant thing in Little Shop of Horrors.

I remember being very afraid to look at the end of my chains. But it didn’t matter. I could hear them screaming. I didn’t understand why there were vaginas on the ends of the chains, until a group leader led us to the a castle, where Eliot (an actual character in The Magicians) resided as the king of Fillory.

As we were all lined up in front of King Eliot, he asked each of us to hand him the chains. On each arm of his throne were huge iron hoops, to which he attached the chains. The only word he said after that was kneel. And we did, except for the group leader, who had taken all of our food, and handed it to the king.

Eliot stood from his thrown, carefully inspecting the food, deciding which vagina would get the best food. Wait … WHAT?! Those things are actually going to eat??? Eliot couldn’t look more pleased with himself. PERV! Or am I the perv for having this f*cked up dream?

As if he could read my thoughts, he turned to me. “It looks like you’re the recipient of today’s reward”. The others hissed at me with jealousy. What did he mean by reward? Was he going to let me have my vaginas back? But then he tossed the food to the vaginas on my chains, and they devoured everything like starving lions.

I quickly understood what Eliot meant by reward, because as my vaginas with teeth were devouring lunch, my vagina started screaming … in a good way. And that’s all I’m saying without getting too crazy. Oh. Too late.

I never knew you could have an orgasm in your sleep when you have the flu.

Maybe I’ll take a sleeping pill and extra Tylenol tonight. I’m slightly afraid to ever sleep again.