Wednesday, January 24, 2018

Me to My Dreams: You're Fired

Two nights ago I dreamed about Arnold Schwarzenegger. He was being mean to Adam West.

How could anyone be mean to Adam West?

Last night I dreamed about Donald Trump competing in a dance-off/golf tournament in the basement of a comic book store. He got three holes in one. I don't think his dancing was very good, though.

Tonight, I'm tired. Apparently my subconscious doesn't find it restful to repeatedly dream about rich white guys who used to star on "The Apprentice."

Aww, they used to be friends.

Go figure.

My point is, I have all these great ideas for posts I want to write. But I'm too bloody exhausted to write them. Also, they mostly involve taking photos of random stuff lying around my place, and just the thought of framing, shooting, editing, and posting photos is wearing me out.

So I'm going to go to bed early tonight. With the aid of a Benadryl, perhaps I'll sleep soundly and well and untroubled by the wacky narratives my brain loves to come up with just to fuck with me.

Then I can get back to writing about the important stuff. Like how I bought three pounds of old buttons on eBay. Or my ongoing war against drain flies. Or my thoughts on monkey clones.

I just want to get back to normal, is what I'm trying to say.

So good night, my Drunkards. May our dreams shut the hell up and let us sleep for once.


  1. Your dreams are so normal. Last night I had a dream of someone squirting lubricating oil in my ears to help me hear again.

  2. Monkey cliones and buttons – 2 of my fave things!


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