Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Time traveling space hookers.

So last night I had a dream about time traveling space hookers.

I'll let that sink in for a moment.

Here, as unedited as I can make it, is my dream: 

Everything is dark in space, the stars are glowing brightly in the sky when all of sudden a wily group of time traveling space hookers lands on a planet/goes back in time to a medieval era. The locals are very surprised about this naturally, and give the girls corsets and dresses to wear. 

Somehow it is decided that these girls should come to court and talk to the gentry. The girls complain about how tight the corsets are. They also spend a considerable amount of time trying to explain what the words fuck and cunt mean. The locals are not impressed.

The dream sort of glossed over this bit, but I'm assuming they were kicked out of court for various reasons, because the next scene is them traveling along with a white knight. He is, in the manner of knights everywhere quite chivalrous and pledges his undying love for the brunet space hooker. He tells her that it is the fashion for all good women with the love of a knight to wear dragon feathers in there bodice. 

Alrighty then. 

He goes off and they all wait expectantly. They are gonna see goddamn dragon. This is gonna be sweet. However after a while, he returns carrying what looks like miniature pink version of Falcor. I mean seriously this dragon was smaller then a golden retriever. It was Technicolor though, so theres that. 

“That's it?” 

“Yes my lady. I have defeated this dragon so that I might gift upon you these feathers. ” 

“I thought it was going to be bigger.” 

Unfortunately, or fortunately, however you choose to see this, the group is attacked by an evil sex resort* owner who kidnaps the space hookers. They are taken to his sex resort castle high up the mountains. The castle itself is made out what looks like imported tan sandstone. Inside it has white carpeting and resembles a cross between a hotel lobby and a furnished basement. The space hookers are herded inside and showed to the bar. Curiously my brain did not feel like inventing space alcohol for them, so the girls just had some beers. 

Then they are introduced to a group of guys who are going to take them for a 'test drive.' I would like to take this moment to point out that this is not going to turn into a bad porno form the seventies. No one except the girls is still wearing period dress, most of the men are dressed like they manage a Brookstone store at the mall. 

The girls were each split off with a guy, and we followed the brunet. She is reluctant to have sex until they work out a payment plan, and they are constantly interrupted by the owner of said sex resort who is trying to get them to take tequila shots. At this point in the dream I remember really wanting to laugh. I am not sure how that works in a third person dream, but I felt like it would probably be disconcerting for everyone involved if a disembodied voice started laughing during your rate negotiation.

He didn't seem to understand her payment plan very well, and somehow ends up thinking that her problem is that he wasn't going to use protection. After a few awkward moments of fumbling he triumphantly pulls a condom out of his back pocket. I'm not even sure why this planet/time/whatever has tequila and condoms, but lets just roll with it. Sick of arguing with him, the brunet space hooker agrees to blow him, and I'm treated to a crappy blow job montage where she gets lipstick on his rather small penis.**
The next bit is a bit hazy, possibly because we are all drunk on dream/space tequila. Somehow the brunet space hooker escapes are tries to climb out of the mountains to safety, but is intercepted by the sex resorts flock of giant golden eagles. I am treated to the dreams greatest image to date of the giant golden eagle, with the sunset lighting up it's wings, landing on the rock spire in front of the space hooker while the sun turns the snow around them gold and red. It was fucking awesome. 

Then I woke up because the dog needed to go out and I have to get up so we can finish the foundation walls on the new chicken coup. Such is life. 
*I don't know if sex resorts are a real thing, but they should be.
**I kinda lied about the porno thing.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

I was just attacked by angry bees.

Here I was wondering if I should start a blog and how I would keep it funny and interesting. How would I take my day to day life and make it exciting and funny for people and BAM attacked by angry bees. It’s like a sign or something. “How did you decide to start blogging?” 
Oh I was just attacked by angry bees, it was nothing really.” 
We were collecting rocks for the foundation of our new chicken coup, when I looked to the left and saw more yellow jackets then I have ever seen in my entire life pouring out of a hole in the ground. 
I leapt up and screamed at Scott “AAUUGGGGGHH hoards of angry bees! RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIFE!” I stopped and untied the dog who was out with us. Which if you stop to think about it was damn decent of me, when I looked at Scott who was standing perfectly still looking at me with an annoyed expression. I freed the dog with shaking fingers and dropped her lead on the ground, because hey it was everyone for themselves now.
Just get some spectracide and take care of it.” He said in an angry yet weary tone as though I had orchestrated this entire thing just to fuck with him somehow.  It was at this point that I noticed I had already been stung in the back, and now was being stung painfully in the wrist. I ripped my gloves off and took off down the road screaming. I managed to turn and look back about halfway to the house, and see my dog, husband and cat all standing there looking at me like I am the dumbest person to ever walk this earth.   
At this point, although I’m not entirely sure, I think the hoard must have caught up with them, because the dog and I reached the door at the same time. I threw it open and barreled in but the dog had a moment of hesitation that allowed several bees to enter the house with us. I slammed the door shut and took off running again. The bees that had come in with us were still bent wholly upon our destruction, and I had to run for it in my own home. My only thought was to make to the bathroom, which I did and shoved the door shut behind me. Safety!
It was there I had the second realization, that I am completely covered in bees. They were tangled in my shirt and pant cuffs, ineffectively stinging the fabric, looks of hate on their tiny insect faces. I could almost hear them shouting “Down with our human oppressors!” 
I LOST MY SHIT. I proceeded to attack them with the hair brush and then drown them in the sink (I know that drowning them in the sink is next to impossible because of how insects breath though their abdomens and to do it properly I’d half to put soap in the water to destroy the surface tension or some bullshit but I was panicking OK?)   At this point I was FREAKING THE FUCK OUT when I heard Scott’s voice down the hallway. “Are you okay babe?” 
I responded that I had been stung several times and I was trying to kill the remaining bees still on me. I don’t know if he understood though because the words were punctuated with the sound of me hitting bees wildly with the hair brush.  At this point I had managed to pull off most of my clothes. 
Once I had gotten all the bees murdered, I left the bathroom for the bedroom, where I encountered the dog, and proceeded to put on fresh clothes because I’ll be damned if I’m fighting a bunch of pissed off bees naked.  I hear Scott shout something about the living room is filled with angry bees, but I’m too busy wigging to really pay much attention. This exclamation is followed by the sound of a fly swatter hitting several things and then Scott starts shouting expletives followed by the sound of him stomping. Moments later he appears in the bedroom and shuts the door calmly behind him. “I think we’ll just give them a few minutes to calm down” he said rubbing the spot on his head where he had been stung. 
Here we both were hiding in the bedroom, peeking out ever few moments to watch a bunch of murderous highly confused bees ping off the windows, and I realized that this was the shit they never talk about that smarmy countryside magazine.   

What are we going to do?” I asked quietly. 
Well we’ll have to go after them with the fly swatter since you won’t let me use spectracide inside the house anymore.” 
You know suddenly I’m okay with it.” 
Which is how I ended up cleaning spectracide off everything in the kitchen, which was a goddamned adventure because our sink is broken and I had to keep filling up a big stew pot with water to wash things in. Also I had to dump it in the toilet because I’ll be damned if I’m going back outside today. 
Plus the bees keep buzzing my window and glaring at me and now I am really, really afraid of going back outside.  
Send food.  And Beer.  And ointment. I might be here awhile. 

I don't really know what to say. It's probably bad to admit that.

I decided to start this blog, mostly because some friends and coworkers have told me repeatedly that I should be writing these things down. I’m not entirely sure what I should talk about for my very first blog entry. How about the fact that my hands are covered in bits of dog food because I couldn’t locate the scoop. The scoop has gone MIA. Also the fact that I thought that wiping them off would suffice, but I just noticed a bunch of gritty kibble under my nails. Also my dog ate a snake this morning. I was upset by this, naturally, because I really, really like snakes. What? Natural pest control baby.

So I live on a 29.4 acre hobby farm in the beautiful state of WV. Notice that I did not say the farm itself was beautiful. I mean it is, with the trees and the creeks and all, but all of the structures on it are falling down. Like really falling down. Like super really falling down and the driveway is falling into the creek. 

It’s a fixer upper.

 If you’re wondering why I moved somewhere that was falling down, and three hours from my job, let me point out that I inherited this place after my Dad died and thanks for bringing up those painful memories, asshole.

It’s also one of the best places to live in whole world where I can see breathtaking natural beauty on a daily if not hourly basis.

So stay tuned friends and family! For all of the greatest hits I promised people I would write down some day, like the Highlander Uncertainty Principle, the paraplegic werewolf dream, and my plans to build I life size Falcor in my front lawn out of snow and ride that baby to freedom.