The Weather Outside Was Frightful

Yesterday’s nor-easter triggered Christmas dreams.  And I wasn’t too happy, because I literally still have lights up on the front of the house yet.  And other things still need to be put away.

Once again, my dream took place at my parents’ house, and mainly in my room.  I don’t know why I’m always in my room in my dreams.  Maybe because that is the one place I’ve ever truly slept so sound, that not even a tornado could’ve woken me up.

But in this case, my guess is since it was Christmas, and I was in charge of decorations and wrapping, I had to pull everything from the crawlspace in my room.  And it was crammed with everything but Christmas stuff.

During my crawlspace purge/search, I discovered something gross and weird.  There was a mutant rat-rabbit cross breed melted within the wood of the sliding crawlspace door.  When I started to poke it to see if it was still alive, fur spewed everywhere across the rug.

And of course, my friend was there, practicing for a gig.  Like, dude?  Why are you here, and practicing in my room?  It’s Christmas eve, and my room is a disaster.  But he stayed, and I had to go downstairs for cleaning supplies and the vacuum cleaner.

When I got back upstairs, the room was in even worse shape because my kids brought all their friends over to play, and they must’ve had a God damned party or something, because there was snack food on every stinking inch of my rug.

But that’s OK!  My friend got rid of the rat-rabbit for me, and he was now relaxing in my papasan chair, waiting for me to finish so that he could play for me.

I refuse to explain this gif.

Jump to a completely different part of my REM cycle, and I’m chasing someone down a road to get my car back, which was stolen.  After firing a taser, I beat the crap out of the thief, lobbed him into a field with sudden superhuman strength, and took off, leaving the loser to rot in hell after I set the field on fire.

As I sped down the road, Larry the Cable Guy was waving on the side of the road, yelling and cheering at me for kicking the car thief’s ass.  Except it wasn’t Larry himself. It was this adorable little guy, and I had to hook him up to the back of my car to tow him into town, which is weird, because HE is the tow truck.

Then he started talking and made me scream, causing me to wipe out.  How the hell did actual Larry git in my car?  Bad pun…

When he asked me my name, he was all “HEY THAT’S MY WIFE’S NAME!!! Can I kiss ya?”, which he always says for real whenever I respond to some of his social media posts – minus the kiss part, because I might blush a little, and his wife might have a few words for me.

Then I woke up, because all kinds of celebrities started invading my dreams.  It’s weird since I don’t really dream about celebrities a lot.





A Good Night of Sleep

FINALLY!!!  It has been forever since I’ve had solid uninterrupted sleep.

The only time I got up was when my son got up for school, only to tell him that it’s a snow day.

After a brief peek out the window and a bathroom run, I crawled back under my down comforter fluff, and went back to sleep until 9:30.

My dreams weren’t that great to start, but things took a turn, and I definitely feel very rested today.

What little I remember of my dream happened after 7:00, and they weren’t quite as horrific as usual, but some unpleasantries were involved, such as going to the doctor, which I always hate, and I wind up with high blood pressure readings as a result.  The doctor couldn’t decide what procedure I needed, so he admitted me to the hospital for further testing.

The other horrifying thing in my dream was watching David Garrett (OF ALL PEOPLE!!!) go through a barbaric surgery next to me in my hospital room.  He was screaming at me because he didn’t want the surgeons to touch his hands.  But the surgery wasn’t on his hands.  He was just freaking out, because he thought his hands were next.

And then I was being sent home, but couldn’t get home because there were no bloody ubers or cabs available.  So, I had to walk, carrying some amputated hands in a cooler!!!

And then David was stalking me all the way home because I didn’t help him save his hands.  “BUT … BUT … THEY’RE RIGHT HERE IN THE COOLER!!!”  And we proceeded to walk through some gigantic mountainous forest in search of a witch doctor who could reattach his hands, because he had to get back to work, ASAP!

But then when we finally reached the witch doctor, his hands had grown back, and he became paranoid, thinking that I was an evil witch, and started playing his violin to chase me away.

Except I didn’t run away from him, and for some weird reason, I grew two extra arms, and started playing 2 violins, because now it was a fucking competition.  And this was the song we were playing.

The version that shows him playing opposite himself has magically disappeared.

But then I started to laugh (because of my 4 arms) in my dream AND for real as I slept, which pissed me off because my own cackling woke me up from what was starting to be a great dream, because David Garrett was in it, which NEVER HAPPENS!!!


I miss him. 😥

And, I miss playing my violin.  I feel David’s pain, as I also suffer with neck (and back) issues.  Sometimes it seems like it’s never ending.  I think last night’s much needed rest was the result of a really good adjustment yesterday.  My chiropractor is AWESOME.



Who Am I?

I’ve very recently come to realize that I really don’t know who I am.  I don’t think I’ve ever known.  I’m not really my own person.  Do I even know how to discover who I am?  Is it too late for me?

Here are some things I do know about myself.

First and foremost, I’m a follower.  I always have been.  But for the record, I’m not a sheep.  Extremists will get that reference.  Sadly, being a follower (among other things) has shaped who I am today.  Therefore, many of my opinions and beliefs have been largely based on that fact.

Why?  I’m guessing it’s because I want to please people, because I can’t stand when someone doesn’t like me for an unpopular opinion or question.  Which brings me to my next statement.

I was verbally bullied as a child.  Mind you it was mild compared to today’s bullying.  But name calling and constant rejection leave lasting marks.  As does a strict, mistrusting German mother, who made me the submissive paranoid cynic that I am today.

I don’t know why I picked this gif, but it’s scary, and my mother was scary.  She had spies.

Whenever I was grounded, lectured, or yelled at, it literally felt like I was being emotionally beaten, and I would always retreat to my room for a tearful breakdown.

I swore up and down I would never become my mother.  But lately, I find myself saying things that remind me of the things she used to say.  I’m probably going to hell for freaking out my children so that they’ll behave when they’re not around me.  I do my best not to do that crap, because I know it could damage them in the long run, like it damaged me.

As a good friend just recently said to me, “But we NEED to do these things to protect our kids.  Especially today, and with today’s technology.”


Hi, Damien.

Should parents maybe just let children make mistakes, so that they’ll actually learn what consequences are?

“If you get a tattoo, I’m writing you out of my will” or how about “Don’t come running to me if you get pregnant.  You’re on your own and out of my house if you do” or “Don’t cry to me about your open heart surgery.  You insisted on smoking and eating bad food” or “If you ever get arrested, you WILL sit in jail, and learn your lesson” .  .  .

Or is that too evil?

Don’t play mind games with your kids.  It could have lasting negative effects.

I’ve never gotten arrested, FYI.  I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket, which bloody amazes me, considering how many mirrors I’ve broken in my 47 and a half years.

My mother might be proud for trying to raise my kids right, but I’m sure she constantly rolls in her grave, because I’m definitely not the good Roman Catholic school girl I was raised to be.

Quite the contrary.
I am not a … 

Anyway, my children clearly see this in my day-to-day behaviors.  And I’m certain I’ve been accused of being an inappropriate, unconventional parent many times.

Also for the record, even though I’ve stopped going to church does not mean I don’t pray anymore.  I still believe in and follow many church teachings.  Don’t bother trying to convince me God doesn’t exist.  My feet are solidly planted.

I may question my faith quite often, and throw a daily “why me?” at God, but I still believe there’s a supreme being out there, watching all of its creations.  It’s just easier to call Him God, rather than torture myself with more miserable what-ifs than necessary, which is another one of my huge life-long problems.  The what-ifs.  I’m still unsure of why I hone in on the what-ifs all the time.

Kevin said something yesterday that made me think, and I think I’ve realized why it’s the truth.  Whenever I don’t like something, and/or I don’t want to do something, I resist.  Yesterday, when I bitched about being required to provide proof to my son’s school that he requires glasses, I insisted I was acting that way because I don’t trust the system.

Another thing about me:  I’m a believer in many conspiracy theories.  When I find out about any little discrepancies, I run wild with them.  But I won’t expand on that right now, or preach about how it’s important for people to open their eyes in this new millennium.

So, when something seems a little too strict, or I feel like I’m under a microscope, I go bonkers.  Especially where censorship is concerned.  But that stems from my elementary school days, when I tried to ‘educate’ my friends (IN CATHOLIC GRADE SCHOOL!) by bringing in an unapproved medical book.

BOY were my parents and teacher pissed!  And of course the book was confiscated.  “You’re too young to know that stuff!”  I was 13 and ridiculously curious.  SHEESH!

I couldn’t resist!  And, it’s better than the first gif I was considering using.

I’m definitely going to hell.

Kevin is right though.  What he doesn’t know is that I’ve realized why I resist.  But he can probably guess, because he has seen my mother in action with her psychologically harmful words.  But this isn’t an attack on my deceased mother either.  Let’s just say I think I know why she prayed the way she did the last few years of her life.  Guilt.

I’m a damaged person.  I’m emotionally needy, therefore distancing myself from the big bad world so that I don’t get hurt.  And when I say hurt, I mean criticized, disappointed, or anything similar.  Because when those things happen to me, I curl into a ball for days, wallowing in self pity, hating myself for even succumbing to self pity in the first place.

On a more positive note, based on these few basic self-discovery statements, I can say that I have always loved writing, music, and travel.

With writing, there is self-expression through experience and emotion.  Anyone who truly knows me knows what a passionate and emotional person I am – another reason I distance myself from the world.  People often mistake me for an insane menopausal mess.  Also with writing is learning, and unlike my school days, I actually appreciate and enjoy learning in my middle-age years.  It helps me feel like I’m worth something.

Music, well, I don’t believe it’s necessary to expand much on that, except to say it’s the single constant in life which I can count on being there until my last day.  Even if the horrible day were to come where I either lose my hearing, or music is somehow (God forbid) outlawed, music will always be in my heart and soul.  That can never be stripped from me.  Listening to music (and occasionally playing my violin when my neck isn’t giving me grief) are the only times I can truly let myself be happy without worry.

Freaking long paragraphs…

Travel is something I experienced at a young age, and a lot of it.  I’m truly grateful to have seen so much early in life.  Those are memories I cherish, and rely on in dark times.

Everything else about me, I’m still searching for.  Hopefully it comes to me sooner than later, because that means major progress with defeating depression and anxiety.

I bid all of my readers an excellent day with a huge thank you for reading, and leave with something different from the musical world.  Why?  Because everyone needs something different now and then, when mainstream music gets to be redundant, and many songs start to sound identical.

I sure wish the creators of Animusic would make more!  And how ironic that it is all digitally created, given my above statement about technology.

And finally, holy crap, this was a long post.


PS: In no way was I ever physically or mentally abused.  The above statements about the things my mother used to say were NEVER meant to imply that.  My statements simply mean that she would say things that made me paranoid and constantly guilty for even stepping one toe out of line.

THANKS BRO!  Jk, bro.  JK!  Love ya!

Otherwise, I had an awesome childhood. I was spoiled, and got to travel a lot early in life, and after high school.  I’m still spoiled, by my husband and older brothers (who still look after me whenever possible).  I’ve just never reacted well to things like being yelled at, or confrontation of any type.  I still don’t to this day – hence why I keep to my house most of the time.

My former doctor nailed it when he said I have a fragile ego, and that I’m a person who puts on a smile and giggles for the sake of seeming like I’m OK to concerned loved ones.  He reduced me to tears with those statements alone.  What I don’t think he realized is how my mother’s sneaky parental mental tactics might have had something to do with it.  That, and the crap I endured in school.  It wasn’t really Mom’s fault.  She was just parenting the way she saw fit, according to her upbringing and experiences.

FAR from abused.  I just have permanent issues.

PPS:  Ooops.  I made this entry even longer.  I can’t help it.  Another fucked up thing about me:  I constantly feel the need to explain myself.




Assbikes And Shells

Today was a weird day.

The usual up at o’stupid-thirty until ridiculous af o’clock not only messed with my brain function, we had to be somewhere at 8:30, and I was confused because the sun was out.  Me plus driving plus half past dead isn’t a good combination.

And then when Kevin said “Are you ready?” within minutes of getting back home, I about cried on the spot, because I wanted a fucking nap – at 9:30, which really seemed like 3:30 in the afternoon at this point in my confused brain.  But I was too tired to cry, so I just slumped and said “Let me go to the bathroom first”.  And then we proceeded to drive 45 minutes (it seemed like 45 hours in my zombified brain) just to buy meat.

But the meat is worth the extra mileage and mental suffering and confusion.  Another bonus was breakfast at Dunkin Donuts.  Except the caffeine didn’t even make a dent in my lethargy.  It just made my hands shaky, which I absolutely hate.

So when we finally got home, I finished wiping my ass (don’t ask), washed up at the sink because I probably would’ve fallen asleep in the shower, and crawled off to bed – which I almost did naked, until I started shivering.  So I put on some fresh clothes and died until 3:00, when we had to head back out.

After eating 4 juicy ounces of pull apart cow, some leftover mashed potatoes and green bean casserole, my brain is finally aware of what day and time it actually is.  Only to be confused again tomorrow because my son has a day off from school.  I’ll probably forget to turn off my alarm, and I’ll be up at an obnoxious hour again for no reason at all.

Now excuse me, since I’m all messed up, maybe I’ll continue being messed up in hopes of fully waking up.  It’s after 5:00.

PS: I almost forgot about why my title is so screwy.  On the way home, we missed our exit, and continued until we found an exit that would take us in the right direction.  Let’s just say I was briefly awake when my husband took said exit at 50 miles per hour.  Said exit was a wicked S-shape, which isn’t as easy as it looks when you first go into it.

This gif looks really wrong. 

About halfway through the S-curve, I grabbed the OH SHIT BAR, and proceeded to scream at my husband to slow down.  “WHOA WHOA!!! This isn’t Mario Kart you know!!!”  And he proceeded to turn purple from laughing so hard.  But then some trucks started to box us in, and he decided to pass.

Have you ever heard of a mind meld?

We both had this in mind as we passed the obnoxious truck driver, and pretended to throw imaginary shells at him.  I can’t imagine what he thought.

And now for the best part.

My daughter has been having a crap day or two at college.  So I decided to text her and tell her about her father’s horrific driving habits.


JESUS CHRIST that’s obnoxiously huge!

And now I’m off to research how to resize screenshots from my phone.  LORD!

It’s Amazing!

In the gaming world (and the online world in general), there are a lot of bullies and cowardly keyboard ‘warriors’.  However, a negative experience can be turned around in favor of those who are bullied!

I personally witnessed a situation where a gaming member was aggressively bullied (just a couple of days ago!) to the point of them logging off during a battle, even though that member was an experienced, leveled up player.

Given my childhood experiences with verbal bullying, I was surprised to see a recent turn of events with above said bullied gaming member, where they spontaneously led a run of battles, to which they were all successful.  It amazed me how many ‘sheep’ followed that bullied member’s unplanned lead, based on certain popular protocols within the adult community.

That said, those who are bullied should never succumb to the antics of those who might have a difficult life, therefore take to bullying others to make them feel superior.  Always hold your chin high, and chalk up terrible experiences to ‘experience‘ to build a BETTER YOU!

YOU ARE BETTER THAN THEM! And don’t ever forget that.

THIS Is The Big Deal

A little over 2 years ago, I started seeing a chiropractor for several cervical spine problems.  Having a herniated neck disc and degenerative arthritis sucks gigantic elephant balls.  Especially when it causes burning pain and numbness right down to your fingertips – bilaterally.

But the chiropractor is helping me, a LOT, in more ways than one.

Until I started seeing her, I’ve never heard of diffusing essential oils.


I only thought they were used in massage therapy, which an old friend used to use quite often on me, and recommended I use them.  But she never told me how to use them.

Extensive research on these little miracle workers has shown me just how many ways they can be used.  Who’d have thought a digestive blend can ease a sour stomach?  Or that coconut oil (fractionated pure essentials only!) can help some skin problems?

If I were to go into how many health issues I have, a lot of which are allergies and digestion, you’d be like wtf kind of rare medical unicorn IS this chick?

I’ve recently fallen victim to the unsightly keratosis pilaris once again.  I hate it.  I used to get it on the backs of my upper arms and upper thighs when I was a teen.  But those used to pop like pimples.  Now, they are in the form of solidified atrocities on my forearms, and .. well, I’ll spare the gruesome details of what I currently do to my poor skin, and how it is leaving terrible scars.  If my grandparents and mother were still alive to see me doing this….

BUT, there are those naysayers (usually big pharma, and the doctors who are so paranoid that they have no choice but to say ‘no, herbs don’t work’ because their jobs are on the line) who love to debunk homeopathic solutions … because they know damn well that they work, and that they create chaos for big pharma.

For non life threatening issues, I’d rather use natural solutions.  And if they help me, I’ll take it over shady synthetic chemicals that are most likely bullshit anyways, designed to take our money and kill us 10-20 years earlier than we’re supposed to die.

Meanwhile, I’m about to get an uplifting essential oils blend called CHEER, by doTERRA.  Of the 4 psychologists I’ve seen in the past 13 years, ALL of them have highly recommended aromatherapy.

I shit you not.  These damn things work.  I have about 25 of them, and the effect they have on the mood, digestion, skin, etc. are astounding.  Call it mind over matter, witchcraft, or whatever – IT FREAKING WORKS.

Even for some pain.

Try it.  What have you got to lose?  If anything, you’ll benefit from the joys of nice smelling oils.  Face it.  When things smell good, your mood is always lifted.  And when you can achieve that, other positive things happen.

“Bill f*ckin’ Murray!”


It Wasn’t A Fever

I swear.  But I still had really weird inception type dreams, where I was in bed, sleeping, waiting for my husband to wake up.

Back up a bit…

I went to bed at a decent hour, except I woke up at 3, thinking it was a week day, and that my husband was going to wake up for work.  And then I realized it’s Sunday, and couldn’t go back to sleep until almost 6.

I’m sick of this shit!  Just let me sleep!

…and considering the size of the damn gif, it’s pretty damn accurate – once again…

When I finally started to doze off, I felt movement in bed.  Then I was hot, and kicked off the sheets, and thankfully I didn’t strip naked, like I did in my dream.


  But maybe I wanted to strip irl, because … well, it’s been a while.

Sorry.  A bit TMI?

At any rate, I kept waking up in my dream within a dream, thinking that my husband was getting frisky.  Oh well.  There’s always next weekend – at 3 in the morning, when I’m awake for no reason at all.


MAJOR PS (edit)!

I literally just remembered other parts of the dream, which happened in between trying to get frisky with my husband (in my dream).

I picked up my grandmother to go visit my aunt Justine (RIP).  When we arrived at my aunt’s house, we got locked out, and couldn’t find any open windows.  Then someone showed up to return my aunt’s van, which meant keys.  Except I couldn’t get in the house for my driver’s license.

I love Steve Harvey ♥

After face palming, I got my license, and we took off in the van.  Where we were going, I have no clue, except that I was driving them to downtown Niagara Falls. I won’t post another gif of Steve Harvey.  Just think about the previous sentence in italics.

Anyone who is familiar with the area, knows what the Robert Moses Parkway is, and how it is literally on the edge of the Niagara gorge.  I’ve never liked driving it.

So in my dream, I missed an exit, and my aunt and grandmother were screaming to get off at the next exit, which was literally right on top of the exit I missed.  Slamming on the brakes, I swung hard right, and teetered on some weird edge, until the van miraculously floated down to the lower section of the parkway.

Right before I went into inception sex dreams, the van started acting of its own accord, driving backwards, doing donuts, and other weird Christine shit, threatening to throw us over the edge, into the raging waters of the Niagara River.

And finally, because I don’t want to write PPS, I think I’m addicted to gifs.




The Weird Dreams Continue

Last night wasn’t so bad.  Although I actually stayed up late, watching The Lake House twice in a row, because I can never get enough of that movie.  Especially the song and dance.  I own the DVD, but hey, I’ll still watch it when it’s on the telly.

Anyhow, my dreams … were slightly off kilter, but more normal [for me] than some of my really whacked ones.

Most of what I recall involved being back in school, except I was my current age, and everyone was preparing for a reunion prom.  UGH!  PLEASE, don’t make me dress up.  I’m already awkward and self-conscious enough as it is.

When I finally found a dress that fit, I went into the school lavatory.  Once again, the stall doors were way too high, and everyone could see my cooch when I was changing.  And then the mirrors were too high, which resulted in sucky hair and makeup.  But that’s okay.  The dress was awesome.  It was encrusted with diamonds, and everyone had to put on sunglasses so that they wouldn’t go blind.

Then it was time to wait for my date, which was supposed to be my husband, but he was nowhere to be found.  Instead, an ex – who I’ll leave named as Jack (not his real name, FYI), since that’s a fairly generic name – showed up in a stretch limousine, wearing a bright green leprechaun tuxedo.  But nobody seemed to care, because my diamond dress was the most obnoxious thing in the entire history of any prom at my school.

Jack was beaming, and I was overjoyed that he showed up to save the freaking day, because I’ll be damned if I suffer through another miserable prom.  Then our song came on, and everyone cleared the dance floor.  YIKES!  Nothing like being in the spotlight!

And I got my kiss.  It’s only been 34 years …  WHOOPS.  Did I just write that?  It was only a dream!

At least I didn’t have scarlet fever for my ‘dream’ prom.  FML

After the dance, it was time to go, and Jack wanted me to go somewhere with him, except it involved going to the airport.  NOOOOOO!  He was leaving me!  And I couldn’t find my damn passport.  I eventually found it, but Jack was already on a plane to Tennessee (?!?), and then I couldn’t get my passport to swipe in the machines correctly, and there weren’t any airport people around to GOD DAMN HELP!

When I finally boarded a plane, it was huge, and the inside resembled a movie theater, with red seats and walls.  I have no clue what movie was playing, but everything was in sub-titles, and I couldn’t read them because they were in a foreign language.  Go figure!

When I got ‘home’, I was at my parents’ house, where they were getting ready for a wedding, and Jack was miraculously there waiting for me, still wearing the green tuxedo.  For f*ck’s sake, go change.  I did, because the bride might be pissed if I steal her spotlight with my freakish diamond dress, which was really only on loan, and BOY, was I going to have to pay a huge fine, since I never returned it before boarding my plane.

I don’t apologize for my stupid long-ass sentences.  It’s my nervous tendencies, and ADHD.  Which explains why people probably don’t like me, because I pretty much talk the same way.  I’m loud and obnoxious.

When we got to the wedding (via the limo Jack rented for us), there were two events happening, and because we were late, we didn’t know where we were supposed to get our food from.  All the tables looked the same, and strangers (wearing long white lab coats, might I add) were mixed with familiar faces.

As soon as we were about to grab plates from an empty table, with only a few desserts left, the caterers showed up and chased us away, saying that we needed to get away from that table, and go to the other side of the room.  But then the wedding was over, and we ended up back at my parents’ house, where there were leftover trays of pizza and hundreds of chicken wings.

Side note: Kevin and I had pizza and wings for dinner last night, and I suspect that I probably didn’t digest things very well.  Hence dreaming about them. … Did I use that word correctly?

Then things got weird, and fuzzy, and the last thing I remember was pissing off one of my cousins, and he took all the booze home with him to his house, because I apparently was too drunk!  JERK.

And then I was thirsty in my dream.  Something tells me that even in your dreams (I think), extreme thirst could indicate dehydration – which I am 75% of the time, due to the coffee and other awful things I consume.  THEN, my subconscious remembered something else that I really wanted to do, so I woke up.  At 8 freaking 30 … on a Saturday morning.

Only when I really want something do I wake up at early AF o’clock on a weekend.  And now I sit here………………….

Please pass the coffee.

PS!!! WHY are most of these gifs so MONSTROUS?!?!  Is the one directly above so big because I need so much coffee today???

PPS!!! Dear gif makers:  Please consider resizing your shit.  Thanks.

And finally – I just remembered – somewhere in the middle of my messy insecure dream was my 8th grade teacher, who I’ll leave nameless.  Needless to say, I felt slightly uncomfortable, which says a lot about how this teacher made me feel irl, even to this day.  I don’t think I ever want to know why.

I’m Never Drinking Again

Famous last words…

As much as I hate to share this particular dream sequence, it’s a must.  Simply because it’s seriously paranoid.  And, I haven’t had any recent dream recall to really share.  Until today.

Last night I died slightly early.  Early for even me.  I don’t mean literally dead.  Although sometimes I wonder if dead would be easier.

After a few quick shots of whiskey to stop my coughing fit, dinner was a blur, and I proceeded to fall into the depths of sleep in my recliner, as I stuffed my earbuds in for some much needed ASMR.  I don’t usually slam alcohol.  I’m a sipper.  Otherwise I won’t remember anything the next day.  But luckily I recall a few deets for a brief entry.

Upon waking at 1:30 a.m., I stumbled off to bed – after chugging 20 ounces of ice cold water – and proceeded to wake up as I tossed and turned until 4:30.  Restless legs and extreme thirst from a nasty hangover suck.  So do dreams of drinking gallons of water and Gatorade, which took place in my chair before I actually went to bed.

When Kevin left at 4:30, I got up for another bottle of water, chugged half of it, went to the bathroom, walked off the creepy crawlies in my stupid legs, and stumbled back to bed – still fully clothed in yesterday’s clothes, which I’m still wearing.  EW.

I immediately went into some Twilight Zone-ish bizarro dreams, where I thought I was awake (Inception?), and proceeded to sit up (in my dream … I think) and kept calling Kevin’s name, hoping he hadn’t left for work yet.  But when he didn’t come into the bedroom, I resumed my position under my comfortable fluff – a down comforter that sucks you further into dream land than necessary – and continued with paranoid dreams – in my dream.

I’m never watching Inception again.


Then I was rudely awaken (or is it awoken? … I’m still hungover. Shoot me.) by some scary dude pounding on my bedroom window, prompting me to call the cops.  And then there were lights within seconds.  How the hell did the cops get here that quickly?  Whatever the case, I was still on the phone with 911, telling them how people were trying to get into my house in the middle of the night.

Then, when dispatch said the situation was taken care of, I left the safety of my room, only to discover thieves had somehow gotten in anyway, and took all of our damn furniture!  Well, we need new furniture irl, so I wasn’t that heartbroken.  Until Kevin came home with an enormous fish tank in his arms.

“BUT WE NEED FURNITURE!  Not a fish tank!” I screamed, glaring at the obnoxiously huge fish tank as he set it up.  Except it didn’t have fish in it.  He brought home fucking snakes.  And they were all hissing.

And that’s when my alarm went off.  Thank God, because I probably would’ve started screaming irl at any moment, this point in my horrific dream.

Even though my son had gotten on the bus, no matter how hard I tried, there was no going back to sleep.  Not when my husband brought snakes into the house…


Thoughts From A Massage Table

Don’t ever eat for at least four hours before a massage.  And if you do, make it something simple and light, like 4 ounces of applesauce.  And definitely try not to drink much. Save it for after. Otherwise, you’ll be sorry.

MY MY!  What a massive fart button!  By no means is a fart little when you’re doing your best to hold it in during a massage.  It’s the worst feeling ever.  And even worse is the massage therapist knowing you’re at war with your asshole during what’s supposed to be an hour of relaxation.

I should know.  A former therapist once told me that someone farts on the table at least once a week.

OHH NO!  You think it won’t happen to you?  Try again.  Nobody comes out of a massage without a least a little bit of embarrassment.  Especially since you’re mostly naked under that blanket.  And when it’s time to turn over?

Let’s all be thankful farts aren’t visible.  Gross sounds and stink factor are enough.

And if you’ve eaten ANYTHING even remotely questionable, and you have digestive issues, count on not relaxing, because you’ll be busy swallowing the entire time you’re on your stomach, just to keep your food from returning to its rightful owner.

Sorry.  I couldn’t resist.

I never learn…

Here were my thoughts a couple of hours ago.

Oh no.  I have to take off my clothes.

Screw it.  My body hurts.  Pain overrides embarrassment.

Oh shit.  I shouldn’t have eaten.  Especially chips and salsa!  I hope I don’t puke.

This table is crazy hot.  I’ve never been on a heated table.  I might faint.  Or puke.

The music is nice.  I’m tired.  But my food is still right there.

How will I turn over without exposing my boobs?  Or breaking the table?

Ahhhh… finally time to work on my back.

OH SHIT!  My food is gonna come up!

“Can we adjust this headrest a bit?”  “Sure.  Is this good?”  “Yes”.  Oh no it’s not.  I’m still gonna puke.  “Or… maybe a bit more.  Thanks”.

Who am I kidding?  I’m crushing my stomach just by being on it.

“I need a few seconds.  Sorry.  I have to burp.  I just ate a little bit ago.”

My poor therapist.  Did she just back up a few steps?

Ahhhh.  OHHH!!!  That hurts!  But it’s a ‘beneficial’ hurt.  It’s tolerable.

Carry on.

My stomach is rumbling.  I hope I don’t fart.

“These are some stubborn knots.  You’ve had them a while.”

No shit.  That’s why I’m here.  Because I can’t stand it anymore.

“Would you like an analgesic cream?”


“Bio Freeze doesn’t work.  Use that other stuff.  Thank you.”

Ahhhhhhh.  Almost done.  Then I can go home and burp and fart to my heart’s content.

“We’ll see you soon.  And don’t forget to drink your water.”

I’ll probably forget.