New name...

I wake up sometimes in a sweaty fit, thinking that I've created the most wonderful stand up comedy routines. As the day wears on, I forget the funny funny and am left with withering guilt at my own inability to retain what could very well eventually build up to a successful comedy routine. (As opposed to, say, my annoying my SO with my tangential ramblings. For example, I found myelf waking up last weekend thinking that it'd be funny to pretend that I was speaking only Chinese words with the 'Ong' sound. Not, "Hey, funny comedy material" but literally "You wake up out of the fuzzy 'just woken up' state and say in conversational tones 'Tong Bong Fong Lak Sao Gong Song!'...I should be committed)

So, I end up really frassy b/c I had this whole routine in my brain circa 3:58 a.m. that circled around people who are mega-music appreciator's as opposed to the lackadaisical music-genre lover...me. (I like what I hear that I like. I can't get into "who did what in 1982 to revolutionize the ______ sound!" I just like...stuff.) Anyway, I dreamt (in part) that I was frassin' with a music enthusiast who said: "Man, you have GOT to listen to this album by 'Ventricle'! It's called- 'White, Rye, and the Wheat that's In Between'. It'll change the course of your liiiiiiiife" And that's where it ended.

Well, I kinda remember the part where there was a lesbian in a car seat sitting in the back of a mini-van trying to get me to "come over"using come-hither comments (I resisted) and going over to MD's house for a party except she wanted me to come over and clean b/c she had hurt herself in a martial art related injury. (Par for the course.) She had empty upturned Leeann Chin bags and bugs were crawling everywhere. I went upstairs to get cleaning supplies and when I came back down there was no mess except her saying "What're you doing? Do you want to make people think my place is gross?"


Clearly, I need a vacation.