I had a close call the other day. I’m not even sure if I can properly convey into words exactly what happened, but suffice to say that coin flips going the other way could have drastically changed the outcome of the days events. It’s the kind of thing that makes a person sit back and reflect on what’s important in life.
I was almost productive on Saturday. I know. You never really see it coming. You think to yourself, “it’s the weekend! Ain’t no way I’m getting stuff done today. Ain’t gonna try to do something. Ain’t gonna even think about doing nothing. And I sure as pudding ain’t gonna use no proper grammar!” But then, almost inexplicably, you find yourself doing something, and that something turns out to be productive!! Few things frustrate me more in life than this.
That’s why I thank my lucky stars (Canopus and Vega, AKA Brighty bright bright and Twinkly McCtwinkles-alot (he was the son of a first marriage where his mom’s new husband, now his new step dad, adopted him. Seriously, you can’t make that stuff up)) for Video Hits 1 being available for my mindless consumption.
Let me tell you how this whole thing played out. I’m known to party like the proverbial “Rock Star” (what you’re thinking – “Wait, they have proverbs about Rock Stars?”
what I’m thinking in response to what you’re thinking – “Um, yeah. When you translate the Bible from it’s original German…”
You interrupting me – “Dude, I don’t think the Bible was originally written in German.”
Me, slightly agitated – “I have an online degree from the university of Phoenix in Criminal Justice, I think I know what I’m talking about.”
You again, as if we haven’t heard from you enough already, I mean, whose blog is this anyway? – “I’m pretty sure that doesn’t mean anything when it comes to the Bible’s linguistic origins.”
Me, glad to see you’re finally getting it – “My point exactly! We’re not talking about the linguistic origins, we’re talking about the language that the bible was FIRST written in. So my point is, in the original GERMAN text, Proverbs 20:13 is most commonly and most incorrectly translated, ‘Love not sleep, lest poverty oppress thee: open they eyes, and be filled with bread.’ But if you’re familiar with the German slang of 1922, you would know that “filled with bread” is actually the slang for “a Rock Star.” So in using this proverb to describe myself, you should all be aware that I’m known for staying up late and not sleeping. So, are we all on the same page?”
You, arms crossed, weight shifted on your right leg and blankly staring back at me – “Not even close.”
Me – “Well, I really don’t have time for this, so I’m just going to move on anyway.”) on Friday nights. Traditionally, this leads to me sleeping in until around 1 or 2 in the afternoon, virtually eliminating half of the day that I could potentially be productive. But this past Friday, well, let’s just say I didn’t bring my A game and I found myself dreaming of French Poodles operating miniature fork lifts in an inconvenience factory that produces large quantities of used mouthwash for orphaned kids in Beverly Hills (I’m currently working on what that all means with my therapist right now, but frankly, we’re both stumped. Any suggestions would be welcome.) again before the clock struck 12:23 (manufacturing defect, but I got the clock at half price). Going to bed so early on Friday night meant that around 9 am, I was fully rested and ready to do stuff. I had a mini panic attack.
I think that sometimes, like in this case, something too horrific for the mind to actually think about occurs and as some sort of defense mechanism, you’re body just reacts without first consulting the mind. I think this is what happened to me. I was feeling a tightness in my chest, then things got blurry, and when they finally focused properly again, the TV was on and I was just starting the countdown on the top 100 one hit wonders hosted by Billy Shatner (more commonly known as William Shatner, but The Shat (he hates it when I call him that) and I have a very distant relationship that allows me to call him whatever I see fit). Five hours later I had killed of an exceptional chunk of the day and I was ready for a nap.
I just wanted to say thank you, VH1. Thank you for keeping me from doing anything meaningful. I’m a lesser person for it. It's been a few days since watching all 100 one hit wonders and I've almost completely forgotten every single one of them, virtually insuring that I'll have to watch this special again and again until I can name them all by heart and in order. Also, I’ve found that if the satellite goes out for any reason, of if they are having broadcast problems, Youtube can kill the living bajesus out of time too. Little FYI for anyone that cares.
It occurs to me that my posts might have that kind of effect on people... I'm going to go ponder that for a bit.
And now, this thing here is just for Jam. I haven’t forgotten about it. Perhaps you have. Perhaps this is so vague that no one but myself with know what it’s about, but that’s ok, because I know, and I think that’s worth something. It's at the end. You have to wait for it.
4 comments:
The French Poodles could mean that despite your worship of the "original biblical language" (me saying to you mentally right now : That's right buddy, I'm whipping out the inverted commas marinated for 72 hours in heavy duty sarcasm), German, you secretly pine for a beret and a pencil moustache.
Forklifts : This would signify strength, but since you said mini forklifts, it could signify insecurity at not being The Muscles from Brussels and instead just being strangely attracted to mussels.
Inconvenience factory : Potato.
Used mouthwash : Your subconscious fear of past run-ins with dentistry.
Beverly Hill Orphans : What you secretly wanted to name that bluegrass/polka band that never was because you were forced by woodland gnomes to take a degree in Criminal Justice.
Now you owe me a Twinkie.
All this just makes me want to say "Thank you" on so many levels. And if that isn't a tragically mixed metaphor slash nonsense phrase, I don't know what is. Which of course is a distinct possibility.
The clip is cool. No way would I have been able to answer the question without it, despite the compelling lure of double points.
My hand itches.
i'm curious about what your therapist has to say about dreaming of poodles pushing used mouthwash. gross.
Syar: The Twinkie is in the mail. And I’m probably going to fire my therapist as they were in no way helpful. They didn’t even know half of the things about dream interpretation that you did. And I’m not going to lie to you, your rates are a lot more affordable.
Jam: I can only say “You’re welcome” on about half of the levels you thanked, but that will have to do.
I don’t know why Freakazoid never really caught on, but it has always been one of my favorite cartoons. But I do have terrible taste in cartoons, so maybe that’s more telling?
You’ll probably want to look into some sort of ointment or something. But I’m not a doctor.
Cadiz: That’s the problem, the therapist had NOTHING to say. Not very professional if you ask me. You’d think that sort of a dream would spark some kind of dialog between us, but no. You’d expect a little bit more for $4,522.35 an hour. Maybe I should have paid for more than 8 seconds of her time though… we’ll probably never know the answer to that one.
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