Just another Friday night

Last week-ish Jessica asked me to go to her apartment and let Tank, her dog, out (which means I have to walk Tank) because she hadn’t been home all day and she wasn’t going to be home until late and blah blah blah. I was in a grumpy mood so I heavily sighed okay fine (fiiihhhhnnne).

As I’m turning in to the parking lot of her complex these two people decide it’s the perfect time to cross to the other side of the parking lot but not quite cross and actually just skim the edge of the driving lane of the parking lot. Then this woman a couple buildings down walks out into the parking lot holding her dog and yelling to two new people who are also walking in the driving lane of the parking lot (no idea where they came from, I thought she was yelling at me at first). Apparently the parking lot is a popular place to congregate.

I’m not sure which reserved space is Jessica’s so I’m trying to look for a parking space without hitting any of the people wandering through the parking lot and of course there isn’t anything close except for the spot between the faded red, I have a small penis, truck and the rape van. I continued on.

Finally I park, get out of the car, quadruple lock the car, go up the stairs to her apartment, put the key in the lock, and it doesn’t work. I pull it out, look at the key, put it back in the lock, turn, and it still doesn’t work. Dammit! I only have a car key and her house key on my key chain so I know it’s the right key or maybe I didn’t get a key to her new apartment. Shit! I try it one more time and then I hear, meow. Hmmm, Jessica doesn’t have a cat. So I get out my phone to see what her apartment number is and it’s 2067. I’m at 2051. Whoopsie.

All the buildings in that stupid complex look the same so in my stress of finding a parking space I must have gone one building too far. I walk over to the “correct” building, go up the stairs, and…. it’s apartment 2063. I go back down the stairs and into the parking lot (I see the attraction now) to text Jessica.

Me: So… the people that live in 2051 have a cat and fortunately they are also not home to let it out.

Jessica: Oh man

Me: What is your apartment number?

Jessica: 2063

Me: I have it wrong in my phone.

Jessica: What did you have?

Me: I have 2067

Jessica: That’s my old one

Clearly I need to update the contacts in my phone. So I go to Jessica’s actual apartment, use the key on my key chain, gain access to her apartment and get Tank on his leash for a walk. Tank sniffs and pees on everything. I take in the grandeur of apartment life. It’s lovely.

Me: 2051 came home

Jessica: That’s good where is 2051?

Me: Next bldg down

We’re heading back to Jessica’s apartment and this scary biker looking guy (he might be very nice but I’m judging because I’m traumatized from the experience) carrying (and drinking) a big plastic jug of yellowish liquid comes over to say hi to the “little guy”. Me, “Ummm, I don’t know if he’s nice. You probably shouldn’t… ” and biker dude gives us a little wave and veers off in another direction. I could just see Tank biting this guy and him throwing the battery acid he was drinking at me and then shanking me. Fortunately we made it back to Jessica’s apartment unscathed, I locked up the dog and the apartment and headed back to the parking lot.

Me: I’m going to check on the cat in 2051 and then head home.

Jessica: Ok

She just doesn’t get me.


Back Flipping Belly Dancers

With Valentine’s Day in our recent past and while romance is still in the air, I thought it would be a good time to share a wedding dream. Some background info on this one… I had this dream about six months before my sister’s wedding.

ALE = my sister BWE = the groom

The dreams starts with me running late for my sister’s wedding and as an added bonus the directions she gave me are really bad so I’m also lost. As I’m driving around this run-down industrial dock area I see a tan building with several people standing outside eating hot dogs and figure that must be the place. I rush in through the “Wedding Performers Only” door and am immediately shoved down the aisle but I don’t have my flowers. There are several people at the back of the room but it’s totally disorganized and no one can find them so this really helpful policeman tosses me the flowers from his aunt’s funeral (not sure why he had those with him or why he was there but whatever). About half way down the aisle, I meet up with my assigned groomsman who thinks that rather than take my arm to lead me down the aisle he will just reach around and grab my ass. I’m not sure if this is something ALE has asked the groomsmen to do but I’m not comfortable with it so I keep trying to hook my arm through his arm but this hideous flower arrangement is stabbing me in the eye and knocking me off balance so what I actually end up doing looks like a weird square dancing routine. We finally get down the aisle and there isn’t anywhere for the attendants to stand so we all just sit down around this stage. The guests are sitting in folding chairs that were randomly strewn about and there are huge fans everywhere because the building is missing some walls and the air conditioning doesn’t work. It’s hot, everyone is complaining, and I’m still trying to figure out what to do with my flowers when the bride, ALE, makes her grand entrance. She comes walking in with the train of her dress all bunched up in her arms and shoved up to her neck, her hair is recovering from a wind tunnel encounter and I’m pretty sure she’s drunk. As she starts down the aisle this Middle Eastern music starts playing and a troupe of acrobatic, belly dancers dressed in black taffeta paint suits and silk veils come running out of hidden doorways and follow her down the aisle doing back flips. Quite entertaining. ALE makes it to the end of aisle, drops her train, and sits (falls) down on the stage. I guess the ceremony has begun because the people around me aren’t impressed and they keep talking about how the ceremony sucks. I have no idea what’s going on because I am trying to get the people around me to be quiet, get the flowers out of my eyes and turn the gigantic fan that’s right behind me the other direction because I am freezing. To top it all off, during the distraction of the belly dancing back flipping show the decorators came in and put a big dead palm tree right in front of me so now I can’t even see the ceremony. I’m not sure BWE was even there.

Then we jump to an exterior scene, ALE, a person I know in the dream but don’t know in real life and I are walking down the street. We’re not sure where we are going because ALE can’t decide if she wants to head off on her honeymoon, check-in at the reception or maybe just have a quickie with BWE but one thing she is sure about is that she needs gum. I tell her I don’t have any and she says, “That’s okay, I have this old asbestos on my teeth and I just scrape it off for chewing gum.” Then she starts scraping her two huge front teeth with her nail and when she gets a big enough wad of asbestos gum she pops it in her mouth and starts chewing. That’s when I woke myself up laughing.

I am happy to report that I was not late to my sister’s actual wedding but I was disappointed when I found out the back flipping belly dancers were not going to perform.

Why I Don’t Eat At Chick-Fil-A

So last night (well, not last night but one night) I had this dream (no this is not a speech, it’s a retelling of an actual dream) and I had to share (with my friend, in an email, the next morning). This is going to be long so get comfy. 

Disclaimer: This dream is rated R for language.

The dream begins (or the earliest point that I remember) with me looking out the front window of our house at about 2am. There are surprisingly several cars driving on our street but I’m looking for the police officer that is coming out to investigate the recent break-in. Finally he arrives and I tour him around the house. It’s a big house and he likes the layout but our furniture is a bit outdated and he thinks we could really spruce it up with some great thrift store finds and color on the walls. (Law enforcement professionals are notoriously helpful when it comes to interior design.)  I thank him and we move to the spare bedroom, this is where a lot of the damage occurred when the robbers ransacked the house and he’s concerned we may have termites (makes sense). We move on to the master bedroom – just inside the doorway is a hallway, leading to the bedroom, and in that hallway is the master bath. I notice that the door is shut and find that odd.  I open the door and say to the officer that this is the master bath but nothing was stolen or broken in this room. He sticks his head in and comments that there is a foul odor, so I lean in, tell him I can’t smell it but notice that there is a comforter in the bathtub (one of those big garden tubs) and it’s moving. Strange. Then this naked girl (she looks like an actress but I don’t know her name – really light blond curly hair, kinda round face, probably in her 30’s but she’s younger in the dream) and DSR (my husband) sit up. My heart pounds, my hands shake, and I say, “What the fuck? Get the fuck out of my house you slut!” and I shut the door. To the officer I say, “moving along”, and we proceed into the master bedroom. There is quite a bit of damage in this room and obviously some stolen items (dresser, tv, bed, etc – all are missing). The officer and I spend some time in this room – he’s writing his reports while I’m listening to see if I can tell what’s happening with DSR and the slut. The officer finishes his report, I walk him to the door and he leaves. Then I look for DSR. When I find him he’s calling a security screen door installation company and he let’s me know they will  be arriving at any moment. (It’s now morning and light out.) The screen door installation company arrives. It is a family company and consists of a husband, wife, and their three small children. They are in the kitchen discussing security screen door possibilities while I head back to the master bathroom to confront DSR.

Me: Are you fucking her?
DSR: Yes.
Me: I can’t believe this. Why? Do you love her?
DSR: No, I just wasn’t getting any at home so…
Me: You never want to have sex either so don’t blame this on me.
DSR: Yes, I do. Just the other night I even initiated it.
Me: WHAT? When?
DSR: Don’t you remember when I told you my tummy and head hurt?
Me: That’s how you initiate sex?
DSR: Yeah, you were supposed to comfort me.
Me: That’s ridiculous. I can’t believe you did this. You need to get the fuck out! How many times did you fuck her?
DSR: 24

That’s when the screen door people come down the hall and say they will come back at a better time and then leave. We follow them to the door, say goodbye and go to the kitchen. Random people are in the kitchen watching a video of me trying to mimic a dance video (a video within a video) and everyone is laughing so I start mimicking the mimicking and now it’s a video, within a video, within a dream – even my mind can’t handle that and we jump to the patio where DSR and I are once again discussing his affair, while hanging laundry on one of those metal twirly pole things (example: http://www.target.com/p/household-essentials-outdoor-dryer-steel-62×72/-/A-10437429?ref=tgt_adv_XSG10001&AFID=Google_PLA_df&LNM=%7C10437429&CPNG=home&ci_sku=10437429&ci_gpa=pla&ci_kw=).

Me: Where did you meet her?
DSR: She works at a fast food restaurant.
Me: How did you meet her?
DSR: She motioned me in to the bathroom.
(At this point in the dream, there is a flashback moment and I see the time when she motioned him to the bathroom.)
Me: How long has it been going on?
DSR: 3 months
Me: What’s her name?
DSR: I don’t know.
Me: Really? You’ve been fucking her for 3 months and you don’t know her fucking name? Which fast food restaurant is it?
DSR: Chick-Fil-A
Me: Good. I don’t eat there. How many places have you done it?
DSR: 24
Me: In our house? Well I know you did it in the bathtub! In our bed? Oh my God, you are such an asshole.

Then I storm out and start punching random walls. I figure it won’t matter because we’ve already made a claim with the insurance for the damage the robbers did and it will all get fixed. Then I see a baseball bat! I take it to the bathroom and start beating the crap out of the bathtub.

That’s when I wake up. While I’m laying there trying to emotionally recover from this very stressful dream, DSR wakes up and goes to the bathroom. When he gets back I tell him, “I just had a dream where you slept with a girl 24 times that you met at Chick-Fil-A”, and he said, “Good thing for you I don’t eat at Chick-Fil-A.”

Yep… that about sums it up.