Liz asks: Was it all a dream?
This afternoon I woke up with two thoughts piercing my tiny brain. If I don't write them down now, they will be gone forever. We will discuss the merits of that later.
The first thought I had was a joke. I had made this up during my REM sleep and apparently my subconscious thought it was hilarious. It's not. It doesn't even make sense. I'm sorry you have elected to read this. You may think less of me in the morning.
"If a rooster and a waterfall got into a fight, who would win?"
"The rooster. Cocks could care less if the other person was wet or not."
Now, to call that A JOKE is to abuse the concept of what a joke is. But in all sincerity, when I was rousing from sleep around 1:00 this afternoon, I woke up thinking, "My God. This must be what it's like to be Dave Chappel." I thought for a few dazed moments that I had just dreamt the funniest joke EVER in the history of man.
I'm not proud of myself.
The second, almost simultaneous thought, was an address to Killer. Like many of you, he enters my dreams too. I have a challenge for you, Killer of Killer Rants! By Thursday of this coming week, will you please write a post that contains somewhere in it these words:
It was at that moment, while everyone shifted uncomfortably, that Killer came to the sad realization that there was no laugh track to accompany his comment.
In my waking moments, I saw Killer as part of a Far Side cartoon where that was the only statement on the page. Complete the image, please?
I have my own idea, but it involves a rooster and a waterfall and I think we'd all appreciate me keeping that to myself.
Showing posts with label Frightening Dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Frightening Dreams. Show all posts
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Sunday, December 24, 2006
I Had A Dream
Liz wipes sleep from her eyes:
Somehow, I was in Rosie O'Donnel's house with my dog, Frito. I do not know Rosie O'Donnel nor do I have a black and white dog named Frito. Her house was NOT very Hollywood. I would define it as middle-class at best. The carpet didn't seem very clean and she had not done a very good job of hiding the wires that hooked up her Web TV to the master unit. It was a 50's style ranch, maybe 1,900 square feet. She had a lot of crap in her house- and I mean junk. Old, unattractive things, cheap frames around terrible art prints. I don't think this is how Ms. O'Donnel really lives, but it's a dream... and it gets worse.
Frito had gotten in some trouble. My B/F/F told me that he was causing a ruckus down the street so I went to investigate. The ruckus he caused was at Rosie's. She invited me in. The next thing you know, I'm a house guest... really. Like I was hundreds of miles away from home and crashing at Rosie's... and her girlfriend was out of town.
Rosie was very upset. Madonna had dumped Guy Ritchie and started dating Lionel Ritchie, with plans to marry. She was checking her Web TV for updates. When she left the room, cursing, her private email came on. There was a message from KILLER!! I opened it, knowing that I shouldn't but it was from KILLER! I had to. It was actually a forward of a forward of a forward that had originated from Killer. The forward said, "Hey. A friend sent me this. I think it's funny. Check it out." I remember being jealous that Killer's "work" is being forwarded to Hollywood stars and mine is not.
When it was time to go to sleep, Rosie said that I would be sleeping in her room. Innocent me thought that meant alone. It did not. In my dream, I woke up with Rosie O'Donnel hitting on me. She was laying beside me in bed, rolled over and put her hand on my leg. She was awake. I was faking sleep. I had on clothes but could feel that she did not. I knew that she knew I was not asleep, but I was not going to give in on this one. There is NO WAY that Rosie O'Donnel was going to violate me!
She finally gave up. I lay in bed waiting for her to go to sleep so that I could get out of there. I felt wronged; I had done nothing to indicate that I was into lesbian love. I had been keeping a safe and appropriate distance between myself and Ms. O'Donnel all night. No flirting, no coy remarks, no batting of eyelashes.
Once she was out, I packed up my duffel bag and went to the web TV. I found the message that had originated from Killer and was able to send him a note. It said:
"A naked Rosie O'Donnel just tried to put her hand on my twat. I'm outta here. If I don't make it out alive, you know where I am."
I left Frito with Ms. O'Donnel. After all, I don't have a dog anyway.
Somehow, I was in Rosie O'Donnel's house with my dog, Frito. I do not know Rosie O'Donnel nor do I have a black and white dog named Frito. Her house was NOT very Hollywood. I would define it as middle-class at best. The carpet didn't seem very clean and she had not done a very good job of hiding the wires that hooked up her Web TV to the master unit. It was a 50's style ranch, maybe 1,900 square feet. She had a lot of crap in her house- and I mean junk. Old, unattractive things, cheap frames around terrible art prints. I don't think this is how Ms. O'Donnel really lives, but it's a dream... and it gets worse.
Frito had gotten in some trouble. My B/F/F told me that he was causing a ruckus down the street so I went to investigate. The ruckus he caused was at Rosie's. She invited me in. The next thing you know, I'm a house guest... really. Like I was hundreds of miles away from home and crashing at Rosie's... and her girlfriend was out of town.
Rosie was very upset. Madonna had dumped Guy Ritchie and started dating Lionel Ritchie, with plans to marry. She was checking her Web TV for updates. When she left the room, cursing, her private email came on. There was a message from KILLER!! I opened it, knowing that I shouldn't but it was from KILLER! I had to. It was actually a forward of a forward of a forward that had originated from Killer. The forward said, "Hey. A friend sent me this. I think it's funny. Check it out." I remember being jealous that Killer's "work" is being forwarded to Hollywood stars and mine is not.
When it was time to go to sleep, Rosie said that I would be sleeping in her room. Innocent me thought that meant alone. It did not. In my dream, I woke up with Rosie O'Donnel hitting on me. She was laying beside me in bed, rolled over and put her hand on my leg. She was awake. I was faking sleep. I had on clothes but could feel that she did not. I knew that she knew I was not asleep, but I was not going to give in on this one. There is NO WAY that Rosie O'Donnel was going to violate me!
She finally gave up. I lay in bed waiting for her to go to sleep so that I could get out of there. I felt wronged; I had done nothing to indicate that I was into lesbian love. I had been keeping a safe and appropriate distance between myself and Ms. O'Donnel all night. No flirting, no coy remarks, no batting of eyelashes.
Once she was out, I packed up my duffel bag and went to the web TV. I found the message that had originated from Killer and was able to send him a note. It said:
"A naked Rosie O'Donnel just tried to put her hand on my twat. I'm outta here. If I don't make it out alive, you know where I am."
I left Frito with Ms. O'Donnel. After all, I don't have a dog anyway.
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