I’ll Mess With Texas.

I’m Ben Jenkel, and I approved this message.

“Ben is blasphemy!

Pretending to be our Lord,

Strumming the new song.”

Due to petty bickering within an earshot of me during the last few weeks, I may or may NOT change the look of this page again. We’ll see. If you have an opinion in the matter, post a comment. Remember that you don’t have to register to post a comment if you’re too lazy or afraid.

On Saturday night, I had a dream that my Dad was dead on the couch of my childhood home. He had a rope around his neck, and appeared to be posed after being killed somewhere else. There was a similar corpse next to him, but I screamed myself awake before I found out who it was.

On Sunday night, I had a dream that a man threatened me with a scissors, forcing me out of a bathroom with my pants around my ankles so his daughter could use it. My only display of defiance was as I was taking baby steps out the door, yelling to him, “You’re the worst French ambassador we’ve ever had!” The Kindergarten-aged daughter fired back with, “Adios, Rooney!” In which I replied with, “Adios, you f***ing bitch!” I awoke laughing my ass off. (The F-word has been edited by me to preserve what little family atmosphere left here.)

And on Monday night, I dreamed that I was in my Grandparents’ driveway on the hood of my car, talking to a cloud in the middle of the night. The cloud said something to me about dragons and witchery, and began to swoop down to me. I again screamed myself awake, and my nose started bleeding.

The last dream I can chalk up to my new surroundings in the mailroom where I work. Dawn, the resident mail handler, has covered every inch of drywall with more fantasy posters and action figures than all the Anime conventions in the world. Those first 2 dreams though, I’m telling ya…

It’s the heat, is what it is. I can’t stand peeling myself off of every surface I come into contact with for more than a second. You’re uncomfortable everywhere, the electric bill goes through the roof, and intimacy is almost impossible for a neat freak such as myself. Celia so much as throws an arm around me, and I break out into a flop sweat so dense I go blind. There is about a 2-week span where it’s comfortable to live in this part of the nation.

I still hate Texas.

6 thoughts on “I’ll Mess With Texas.

  1. “You’re the worst French ambassador we’ve ever had!”

    Is that for real? That’s hilarious. I usually don’t remember my dreams, but I’m sure they’re not that entertaining anyway. Randomness rules.



  2. I couldn’t even come close to making up any of those things. I was laughing so hard that I thought Celia was going to wake up and punch me.


  3. I’m so used to Ryan waking up laughing or whining that I don’t even notice it anymore.

    I hate the format. Change it. I never thought I’d say this, but too many circles!


  4. I must agree with about the format change. I am amongst the aged and lazy group and find it all too hard to read. I am not saying to change “you” and “your humor”, just the whole circle background and tiny word thing. Thank you for listening.


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