soapboxdiner

Suburban Martha

*** GROSSY GROSS GROSS - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK ***

So I'm sleeping all nice and sound in my bed last night, having been thoroughly wiped from buying my car Sunday night and not getting it home until after midnight, then Monday's "Im a new daddy!" 11:30 pm chat on the phone with my TX buddy, then what boiled down to "the breakup" and finally with last night's detail/cleaning of the old Dodge. Yup, pretty wiped. I'm sure you can imagine my joy when I finally got a full night's sleep. ALL WAS RIGHT WITH MY WORLD, people.

So there I am, in fuzzy pants and my favorite old tee, peacefully enjoying some REM time when all of a sudden, BAM!

I was dreaming I was a man with... ummm... hygience issues in the saccular region. There was something wrong with the skin of my wee little testicles. So I popped one of the HUGE blisters there and noted that inside the hollow from the blister, there lay rancid bird seed and toe jam. So I flushed it all out with my bottle of saline solution.

GROSSEST dream I think I've ever had.

I'm pretty sure this all means I secretly harboring resentment issues towards my psychotic disco dancing parakeet who throws her food up to three feet out of the cage during her frenzied gyrations.... and that I would really love to repeat the pampering Mrs. R and I received at the Aveda, getting our feet prettied up.

P.S. I'm making borsche (spell that, dudes) this weekend. This is fresh from the garden veggie soup with barley and dill in a beef broth. Add a splash of vinegar and a dollop of sour cream and you are in creamy, mouth exploding ecstacy, children. And I mean that --ECSTACY!

If you want, you can come over and we can all share. Because being a sharer is a good thang.

6:13 am - 07.10.03
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