Monday, June 18, 2007

Ramble

It's 10:39 a.m. on a Monday morning, and I'm high. It's not what you think, people. I'm no druggie. I'm high because I took a Xanax last night to ensure that I got a good night's sleep, and it kicked my ass. It all stems from the fact that my doctor wrote the prescription wrong. Instead of .05 mg, I got .5 mg. For those of you that are decimally challenged: .5 is bigger than .05. So, I popped this magic pill around 10:30 p.m. The last thing I remember was lying on Chris' shoulder watching her do a word search puzzle. I'm searching for Kissimmee (the theme was cities that begin with K). And can I just say that there should be a law agains words being both diagonal and backwards. That makes my head hurt, mmkay? The next thing I know it's 3 a.m., and I'm waking up from a nightmare involving lost shoes, a car chase, and bitch slapping someone's mama. Not that the dream is all that strange for me. My dreams are weird, drugs or no drugs. Oh, you would like to hear the details? Certainly!

It all starts with my friends B & C. Although, B is not B, she's one of my friends from high school, Lara. (People from high school regularly make appearances in my dreams.) So, really it's Lara and C. C really is C, by the way. So, it starts out with C and I going to B's (but really Lara's) parents house. For some reason, my shoes are there, and I need to get them. It was as if I spent the night there and left my shoes. So, I go in the house and I can't find my shoes. I'm asking her parents where they are, but they aren't helpful at all. The Dad finally says, "We hid them because you're a Republican." So, I tell C, "Let's get out of here." We get in C's car which is an old convertible something. We start backing out of the driveway, and the Dad comes out of the house and starts yelling at us not to come back. I turn around and yell, "Fuck off, you SOB!" Then, the Mom and Dad jump in a green truck and start chasing us. I tell C, "Step on it!" She starts giggling nervously and hits the gas which takes us up to a whopping 25 mph. I pull out my cell phone and try to dial 911, but the call won't go through. (This is another recurring theme in my dreams...problems dialing phones in emergency situations). I keep telling C that she needs to go faster, but that's as fast as it gets. We decide to ditch the convertible and try to escape on foot. All of a sudden we're at the top of a mountain looking down on the valley below, and I say, "Look, there's Taco Mac...we're getting close." About that time we run into a ballroom type place, and as I'm about to make my way out the back door, the Mom grabs me and says something that I can't hear or can't understand. I say, "I just want my shoes!" and I haul off and bitch slap her right in the face. Then I wake up.

So, I'm lying there trying to figure out what the hell dream means, and I think I hear a noise. Any time I hear a noise in the middle of the night, I do an animal check. If all the animals are in the room, then I investigate further. If Jack is missing, I assume that he's getting into something, and I fall back asleep. Chris always tries to convince me that any noise I hear is the refrigerator. Car horn, siren, glass breaking...it's the refirgerator. Anyhow, I do an animal check, and all the animals are in the room fast asleep. I decide to get up and investigate. I usually grab a baseball bat that I keep by me bed, but I am too out of it to prepare. I am literally drunk at this point, so I am stumbling around the house trying to be quiet so as to not wake Chris up or let the would-be burgular know that I'm on to him. A room by room search reveals no burgular, but I do stand at the front door trying to figure out who the extra car across the street belongs to. It's a gay boy couple who we have never talked to. We used to see them both alot, but then slowly we only started seeing the one. We assumed that they broke up, because we stopped seeing the silver sedan in the driveway. But then we noticed that the silver sedan was pulled around in back. AHA, we thought. Did the other guy kill him? Then this green truck (OMG...green truck, like from my dream!!) starts showing up on a pretty regular basis, but never parks in the driveway always on the street. Here's what I think, I think the silver sedan gay boy is sick and his partner is taking care of him, but he needs a little something something, so that's where green truck boy comes in, but he feels so guilty carrying on this illicit affair that he refuses to park in the driveway. So, I'm standing at the door last night trying to figure out who the marroon sedan is parked behind the green truck on the street and how that fits into my story. I decide that the gay boy is kinky and is having a threesome with green truck and maroon sedan while poor silver sedan lies in a hospital bed in the den watching QVC. Bastard.

By this time, I'm kind of awake so I turn on the TV and watch Modern Marvels: Welding on the History Channel. I get half way through and pass out again.

So, here I am having sucked down 3/4 of a large sweet tea, and I am still high. My boss came in here earlier and said, "Jeff E. called for you Friday afternoon. He can't get on the internet." I responded with, "Awww...that's too bad for Jeff." Then I sobered up really quick with, "I'll give him a call."

I'm a hop skip and a jump from shaving my head and going to rehab, people. Just say no.