(no subject)
I laid on an electric hot compress to fall asleep last night. Life would be easier if my back wasn't so intent on destroying my part-time job experiences. I'm achey all over, and I didn't get home from work until 3am this morning/last night and that's just fucking lame.
In the meantime, I had this crazy dream.
So I'm on Oprah. I dunno why I was there. There was a reason and I forgot it. Anyway, ahe's got Meagan in there because Meagan has these babies, twin boy and girl. This isn't the special part. The girl infant is totally normal and cute and crawls around the stage and Oprah holds her. I wish Oprah would hold my baby. So the boy is like retarded or something, in that way that I just dunno a politically correct way to describe it. He's messed up. His right arm is all fucked up, it like twists in and his hand is really long and bony for a baby's hand, and he's twitchy and shit. So the deal is, this baby doesn't make normal baby noises. Some paranormal shit causes this kid to make baby noises that sound like an old radio, like the signal is going in and out. So Meagan is holding this baby and he starts making noises and it sounds like he's singing, but with the signal going all in-and-out-like. And I'm freaked. I had dropped something behind the couch and I'm getting it and this kid starts going and I pop my head up like "WHOA. THAT BABY SOUNDS LIKE A RADIO." and the audience laughs but is mostly intrigued by this crazy fucking baby, because more than just the sound, it's like he's singing a song that totally pertains to the situation we're in. Like the baby is totally aware of his surroundings and fully capable of commenting on them in wavy song form.
So after the show I'm talking to Meagan and I'm like THAT WAS INCREDIBLE and she says something about it not being all that good, that she had another song she meant for him to sing but she forgot it or something. Now I'm like W-T-F he memorizes shit too? And she explains that her baby isn't really doing any of it. She had figured out which "tubes" (but I think my dream meant "pipes" as in vocal shit) to press, and I lift the baby's shirt to see a bunch of circles with letters and numbers written in them sharpied up and down this kid. And she has a piece of paper with like a key and the song all written out. And I'm fucking disgusted that Meagan would do something like this to her retarded baby, and to lie on Oprah! I had totally believed it because what wouldn't you believe when you're sitting next to Oprah?!
So I try to post to livejournal about it in the badtattoos_4 community, which is now actually written on some tattooed dude's back - the ultimate bad tattoo? - and it's trouble because he wants to sit down in this big wooden chair and I have to stick my arm through to find a spot, and he's trying to post something about a submarine sandwich and it's just trouble. Come to think of it I'm not sure why I would post that in badtattoos_4 anyway considering it has nothing to do with tattoos (Meagan has a tattoo, but it's totally cute and suited to her and I don't remember thinking it was badly done. Maybe my dream was making commentary on the lack of actual bad tattos in said community lately, but I digress, and my dream does too.)
So while I'm wasting my time with this, Karl from the radio station calls me to tell me some church wants to present RLC with an award for something, on Christmas Eve! So I include it in my agenda which I'm hastily writing to bring to a meeting. I get to the meeting and find that Lisa, Andy, and I think Brian have all written their own agendas (or at least pieces of them) because they all thought I might not show up and that they should cover for me. So I make all sorts of notes on the one I have so they can all work together, since the staff already has some of these other agendas, and I realize I don't have the copies for everyone, so I run back and find I printed my LJ post instead, and I have to copy my agenda with all the notes on it and I'm freaking and panicking and can't open my locker(?) and it's a mess and -
I awoke to my mom banging on my door and yelling something and a fire truck wailing down the street, and getting very close. I fucking leapt out of bed, off my no-longer-hot compress, and threw on some clothes from the floor and rushed to my door feeling very groggy and very panicked.
"Oh. I wanted to show you Santa." The local fire department, every year, sends a fire engine wailing down the streets, very, very, slowly, with a man dressed as Santa riding on top throwing candy to any kids who come barrelling out of their homes to see him. It's cute. In the past, I've been one of those kids and I got that candy. But when I woke up to door banging and siren wailing my first thought was NOT CANDY.
"Fuck." I said.
"What, you missed Santa?" my dad chuckles from my parents' bedroom doorway.
I explain my misconception and they laugh.
"I thought you'd want to see Santa!" my mom says.
"I could have SAT UP for that!" pointing to the window over my bed.
So I showered and brushed my teeth, and heard my mom telling my 16-year old brother he should get out of bed or Santa may put him on the naughty list.
I have a cold compress strapped to my back now. I still ache all over. I'll spend my day cleaning and making merry, as soon as I wake up the rest of the way.
In the meantime, I had this crazy dream.
So I'm on Oprah. I dunno why I was there. There was a reason and I forgot it. Anyway, ahe's got Meagan in there because Meagan has these babies, twin boy and girl. This isn't the special part. The girl infant is totally normal and cute and crawls around the stage and Oprah holds her. I wish Oprah would hold my baby. So the boy is like retarded or something, in that way that I just dunno a politically correct way to describe it. He's messed up. His right arm is all fucked up, it like twists in and his hand is really long and bony for a baby's hand, and he's twitchy and shit. So the deal is, this baby doesn't make normal baby noises. Some paranormal shit causes this kid to make baby noises that sound like an old radio, like the signal is going in and out. So Meagan is holding this baby and he starts making noises and it sounds like he's singing, but with the signal going all in-and-out-like. And I'm freaked. I had dropped something behind the couch and I'm getting it and this kid starts going and I pop my head up like "WHOA. THAT BABY SOUNDS LIKE A RADIO." and the audience laughs but is mostly intrigued by this crazy fucking baby, because more than just the sound, it's like he's singing a song that totally pertains to the situation we're in. Like the baby is totally aware of his surroundings and fully capable of commenting on them in wavy song form.
So after the show I'm talking to Meagan and I'm like THAT WAS INCREDIBLE and she says something about it not being all that good, that she had another song she meant for him to sing but she forgot it or something. Now I'm like W-T-F he memorizes shit too? And she explains that her baby isn't really doing any of it. She had figured out which "tubes" (but I think my dream meant "pipes" as in vocal shit) to press, and I lift the baby's shirt to see a bunch of circles with letters and numbers written in them sharpied up and down this kid. And she has a piece of paper with like a key and the song all written out. And I'm fucking disgusted that Meagan would do something like this to her retarded baby, and to lie on Oprah! I had totally believed it because what wouldn't you believe when you're sitting next to Oprah?!
So I try to post to livejournal about it in the badtattoos_4 community, which is now actually written on some tattooed dude's back - the ultimate bad tattoo? - and it's trouble because he wants to sit down in this big wooden chair and I have to stick my arm through to find a spot, and he's trying to post something about a submarine sandwich and it's just trouble. Come to think of it I'm not sure why I would post that in badtattoos_4 anyway considering it has nothing to do with tattoos (Meagan has a tattoo, but it's totally cute and suited to her and I don't remember thinking it was badly done. Maybe my dream was making commentary on the lack of actual bad tattos in said community lately, but I digress, and my dream does too.)
So while I'm wasting my time with this, Karl from the radio station calls me to tell me some church wants to present RLC with an award for something, on Christmas Eve! So I include it in my agenda which I'm hastily writing to bring to a meeting. I get to the meeting and find that Lisa, Andy, and I think Brian have all written their own agendas (or at least pieces of them) because they all thought I might not show up and that they should cover for me. So I make all sorts of notes on the one I have so they can all work together, since the staff already has some of these other agendas, and I realize I don't have the copies for everyone, so I run back and find I printed my LJ post instead, and I have to copy my agenda with all the notes on it and I'm freaking and panicking and can't open my locker(?) and it's a mess and -
I awoke to my mom banging on my door and yelling something and a fire truck wailing down the street, and getting very close. I fucking leapt out of bed, off my no-longer-hot compress, and threw on some clothes from the floor and rushed to my door feeling very groggy and very panicked.
"Oh. I wanted to show you Santa." The local fire department, every year, sends a fire engine wailing down the streets, very, very, slowly, with a man dressed as Santa riding on top throwing candy to any kids who come barrelling out of their homes to see him. It's cute. In the past, I've been one of those kids and I got that candy. But when I woke up to door banging and siren wailing my first thought was NOT CANDY.
"Fuck." I said.
"What, you missed Santa?" my dad chuckles from my parents' bedroom doorway.
I explain my misconception and they laugh.
"I thought you'd want to see Santa!" my mom says.
"I could have SAT UP for that!" pointing to the window over my bed.
So I showered and brushed my teeth, and heard my mom telling my 16-year old brother he should get out of bed or Santa may put him on the naughty list.
I have a cold compress strapped to my back now. I still ache all over. I'll spend my day cleaning and making merry, as soon as I wake up the rest of the way.