This Is What Happens When You Give An Insomniac A Camera

Last night I dreamt I had turned into a tiny little doll and woke to find it was so.


"WTF?"


I'm not sure what happened exactly, but there I was, barely three inches tall and stuck in a land that looked suspiciously like my bathroom countertop.



"Wow, this is weird! Oh well, at least I have a cute outfit. Very renaissance fair."


It was trippy. Unfortunately, I quickly became bored. There was nothing much to do but wander around in the Nail Polish Forest.



"Bo-ring!"


And hang out in the Valley of Supplements.


"This is so not fun."



I tried talking to the locals, but we couldn't seem to communicate very well.



Me: "Hey, how's it going?"

Monkey 1: "Who said that? I can't see!"

Monkey 2: "Mmmmmph mmmphh."

Monkey 3: "WHA?...WHAT?"


There was some other sort of weird gargoyle type creature around but it didn't talk. It only seemed interested in staring worshipfully at a can of Pringles.



"Ewww, salt and vinager flavor. I prefer regular."


What was a tiny doll to do? I was lonely.



"This sucks. I must have really pissed someone off. Woe is me."


I kind of fell back on my butt since my little doll legs wouldn't bend, and felt very sorry for myself. It was my darkest hour. But suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a shimmering light. Looking up, I saw dazzling gold picture of a kindly man in a funkified pope outfit.




"It is the Pope! The one who died a few years ago, not that new one. Oh Your Holiness! Please sir, I beg for your help. I don't know what's going on, or if I'm being punished for something, but if I've got to be stuck here on the bathroom sink can I please have some company? Pretty please? A talking lion or something? Come on, that's not too much to ask, is it? I'm not that bad a person, really I'm not. I mean, how many times have I cursed and taken the Lord's name in vain?




"Three million, two hundred and sixty seven times."




Shit! God dam--........uh.....sorry bout that."


It looked like I was doomed to sit all alone in an infrequently cleaned bathroom forever. But then --







"Hola, baby! Que paso?"




"A man! Sweet! Thank you, Mister Pope. I'm so glad I have your picture on my bathroom wall instead of Xenu's."

Picture Post

Well, it's been fifteen days without Adderall. BOOOOO!

I guess I am sleeping a bit better. YAAAY!

But feeling kind of meh. BOOOOO!

Although, it's given me a chance to catch up on Oprah. YAAAY!


Sorry, that's probably annoying. I'm done now. Promise.

YAAAY!


In other other news, my new camera is pretty cool. I'm trying to get into the habit of taking it with me wherever I go. I took it to the grocery store not long ago. Here are a couple of pictures from that outing.



I like grocery shopping late at night when it's practically empty. The workers are more laid back. I caught this enthusuastic young lad singing along to Oasis. Publix has good piped in music, not that boring muzak stuff. I joined him for the chorus - "...and after all, you're my wonderWALL!"

Isn't he cute? Why I just want to pinch his cheeks I do! The cheeks on his face, that is. I'm not a filthy minded old woman. Not yet anyway.





Look at these cool Passover toys. Man, do I wish I was Jewish. Baptists don't have anything this good. Who could resist a toy bag of plagues? You can't see it in the picture, but it comes with a tiny rubber hand covered in boils. I almost bought it but it was $10.99 and I'm poor.





Nashville is getting so cosmopolitan. Check it out, y'all, we gots us some British food now. One of these days I want to try the Spotted Dick pudding. That name makes me snicker. And also, think of Michael Jackson for some reason.





I did buy this candy bar. It sounded intriguing - rose flavored candy covered in chocolate - but I had to spit it out. It tasted like a mouthful of my grandma's perfume. Bleh.



On the way out of the store a pretty interesting thing happened. I managed to step in dog shit. Now maybe I should've been paying more attention but it was dark and what, do I live in Calcutta? Who would expect dog poop in a grocery store parking lot? It really pissed me off. I put the shoe in a grocery bag before I got in the car and when I got home I threw in on the back porch, figuring I'd deal with it after I unloaded the groceries.

One week later.


Note the actual, unphotoshopped stink waves. Isn't this camera amazing?

My Mother's Afro Pick: A Gift of Love

Here is a sad tale that I'd like to share
about the time my sweet mom put a perm in her hair
that was so tight she resembled a fuzzy blonde bear.
No comb could run through it, which made her cry and swear
and sit slumped over sadly in her rocking chair
because looking in the mirror filled her with despair.
Wanting to help out, I searched the shopping square
hoping to find something that might help to repair
the frizzed out halo of tough, crinkled hair.
At the drugstore I examined the tools for tress care
and discovered some picks to soothe and groom afro hair.
There were plenty to choose from, but I wanted one with flair
and I found a black comb featuring a fist in the air,
which to my eight year old mind was a cool thing to wear
in thirty-six year old, suburban, white lady hair.
But my mom didn't agree and her eyes they did glare
as my dad laughed and laughed till he fell out of his chair.
"Really funny," she hissed, and stormed off to her lair.
Looking back, I think that was a bit unfair.
I wasn't trying to be a smart ass, at least not then and there,
but mom never did use the proud fist on her hair.
I guess the moral of this story is - choose your gifts with care.


Hope everyone has a happy Valentine's Day. I've been busy, but I plan to get back to blogging soon. I bought a sweet new digital camera so I'll be able to post pictures as soon as I figure it out. Don't expect me to post a bunch of pics of my boobs though, I send those straight over to the Rate My Rack website.

A Cheery Poem for Monday

What would you say if I told you that
I have secret fears I'll trip over the cat
and plunge backwards down the stairs and land on my head
the impact would make my skull shatter and shred.
At the bottom of the steps the cement floor would turn red
from the blood and the brains and the spinal fluid
my body so broken I'd prefer to be dead
but I'd end up like Christopher Reeve instead.
I picture it all and it fills me with dread.
Maybe, just maybe I'll get rid of my cat.
Cause I really don't want for my head to go splat.