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.




Patience Is A Virgin

I don’t know where the hilarious spin on the original saying came from, but when I first saw it, it was in a quotes column in the school newspaper where I went to college.  And of course my boyfriend had to go and say “Well then you must not have a lot of patience”, causing me to choke on my food, because he said it in front of his friends, who all knew I was a virgin before I met him.

The funny part is, patience is considered a virtue because of how rare it is.  Hmmmm, so is virginity!  Especially these days, where people don’t want to wait for anything.  But this isn’t a rant about jerks on the roads who always leave late, or the lack of courtesy in a checkout line, or road rage, or …. oops.

If patience is something that you have to work hard at (I worked hard at keeping my virginity – until I was 20, and I got drunk one night, and my boyfriend turned me into putty), then it shouldn’t surprise me when I hear how young the ‘average age’ is for a person’s first time.

Finally, a small gif!!!

But virginity and patience are both huge things.

Patience takes a lot of self restraint, which involves a lot of tongue biting, sitting on itchy hands when at the keyboard, and chewing gum like a mad person when stuck in traffic.

Uh oh.  The gifs are getting bigger.  But it accurately represents stuck in traffic.

Seriously though.  Why do teens set themselves up for the worst angst?  Do they not understand how emotional sex can be, even if they think they’re only doing it because it’s FUN, or because everyone else is doing it?  It’s not fun crying for months after your girlfriend or boyfriend breaks up with you.  It’s not fun being called a slut, even though you did it one time.  It’s not fun catching a disease or getting pregnant before you can even drive – or spell, for that matter!

Don’t be drinking or eating when you watch this.  Hot coffee just spewed from my nose, even though I’ve seen this video at least 10 times.

But I’m not here to lecture about sex.  This is supposed to be about patience, and I have ‘no room to speak’ about sex.  I too was very curious at an early age, much to my parents’ and a certain Catholic school teacher’s detriment.


I know it’s easier said than done, but I think if everyone just slowed down a bit, patience wouldn’t be that difficult.  People truly kill me when I hear them complain about how stressed and burned out they are.  Well, don’t make your kids play every sport there is, and don’t give them everything they want, and don’t bite off more than you can chew socially.

As an adult, raising children and work are enough without adding too many extras.  And that’s when patience dies, because there is no time for patience.  There’s only one answer.

Quit this bullsh*t, and make time.  Lessen life’s loads a little.

I can only imagine people’s reactions to that easy solution.

Aww!  Poor Mr. Furley only got a tiny little gif for his huge reaction.

Anyway, patience takes major practice, and if it really is a virgin, then there are a lot of people losing it at a ridiculously young age.  I won’t be pointing fingers at those who know they are to blame for this problem.


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.





My Last Nerve

…just crapped out…

All thanks to Kevin, my husband.

He knows what a jumpy person I am, and given the weird shit I’ve seen in our house, I don’t like being alone – if that makes any sense, since I prefer to be a loner.

A month or so ago, we got a smart light bulb.  It uses less wattage, and it can be adjusted between true sunlight, tungsten lighting, and brightness preferences.  But you need a smart device and an app to make it work.  Otherwise, it’s useless.

I’m still getting used to this damn bulb, and periodically reach for the switch next to my recliner, where I sit on my ass most nights, watching Molly (my fish), listening to music, and crocheting.

Today, as I was talking to Kevin during his lunch, in the middle of me rambling about some new shirts I got, the damn light turned on.

…except I had no arms to jump into…

After my heart plummeted into my asshole, it took about 1 second to remember that the stupid bulb can be remotely controlled, and that my ‘funny’ husband was screwing with me.

HE thought it was funny.  I haven’t heard him laugh like that in a long time, so I let it slide … this time.

Ah, well.  Typical husband/wife shenanigans.


Dog Is The New Squirrel

I’m not kidding. It happened yesterday, when my daughter drove me across town for blood work. If they had checked my blood pressure, it might have been slightly elevated.

Why? Because my kid went full ADHD on me while she was driving! Hence my tendency to not leave my house. She has taken on my husband’s poor driving habits.  And since I don’t like driving, I rarely leave my house.  It’s like pulling teeth to get me to leave, unless it’s something I really want to do.

Me: After my blood work, I want to stop at Starbuck’s. I’m starving.

Kelly: You buying?

Me: I guess.

Kelly: I don’t know what I want yet, but did I tell you what Nathan did?

Nathan is her ‘platonic’ boyfriend, who was her boyfriend for 6+ years.

Me: What did he do?

Kelly:  Well after he picked me up, and we were driving to Starbucks, DOG!!!!!!!!!!

Somehow I knew by the way she was pointing, that she saw a dog on the sidewalk.

I’d use a squirrel gif, but since it was a dog…..

Me:  Did you take your meds?!

And we proceeded to laugh our asses off, because we both realized exactly how ADHD that was.  Then I proceeded to threaten to take her license away if she ever did that again with me in the car.

Starbuck’s was good, by the way.  The spinach feta egg white wrap is to die for.


Ambien Nights

You settle in under the sheets
Ahh, the comforts of sleep
The escape
The nothingness

You’re almost there
Halfway to dream land
White noise whirs
Night light dim

But then a disturbance
You stir slightly
Dismissing it as imagination
Until you begin to feel uneasy

You open one eye
Inspecting your surroundings
Discovering a flicker
You open the other eye

Awake again
Mildly annoyed
But then a noise
And you stare at the source

You feel it staring back
It feels familiar
Is if in a dream
Or is it a premonition

Has this happened before?
You ask yourself
Will it happen again?
Sudden darkness

Somehow you’re sucked
Into unknown depths
Until morning
When the promise of tonight looms