(for optimum enjoyment, make explosion sound with mouth)
Happy Monday! It’s another beautiful April day in Sun Prairie. The humidity is gone, the air conditioner is off, the windows are wide open and I’m on my ass in front of the computer. The “www” links to my page work fine again, Leo Laporte is coming back to host “Call For Help” tomorrow, and I’m getting married in 2 months. It’s days like this that almost make me forget how worthless I am as a human being.
No time to whine, though. This weekend was hectic and enjoyable. The family pictures back at home went as well as they could, considering I haven’t been able to smile for a picture for just short of two decades. Regardless, it was fun to see the whole family again, and try my first bottle of Guinness, which I enjoyed as much as I could enjoy any beer. I think I’ll sip down a hundred Cosmopolitans before I return to the warm embrace of British ale. Call me feminine, I couldn’t care less. I hold tight to my “3 drinks a month” rule, so it’s barely a factor. And I’m officially through rambling.
For the last few weeks, I’ve been having horrible nightmares. This is strange, because I usually dream of happy things, like cotton candy, beds with soft pillows, or a mixture of the two. Each night, my head finds a new and unusual way for me to suffer. A few nights ago I was hemorrhaging black fluid from my mouth, drowning me in my own fluids. Last night I got shot in the ankle. What the hell is wrong with me?
Talk to me in the comments section. Tell me what you dream about, or what you used to dream about. Congratulate me and Celia. I’m sick of the lack of comments. Don’t make me start with the naked pictures of myself. I’m not afraid.