I dreamt that it was night and I looked in our mailbox and saw that there were a bunch of packages that I processed via USPS online for shipping that day that needed to be picked up. I was in a bit of a panic to get them to the post office before midnight, but then thought maybe I could leave them for the next day, since they do seem to give you about 24 hours leeway (fortunately).
Note to dream self: just let Stan take them the next morning.
Mom called me at about crazy:thirty in the morning because she wanted to let me know she was coming over to look through the kitchen to see if she could find something she needed for making dinner today that she forgot to take with her in the move. Seriously? I mean just come over, don’t call me. I would not have heard her fummaging around in the kitchen at that hour in the morning probably anyway, and even if I did it wouldn’t be like a big freakout thing “oh no, there’s a stranger in my house.” I’d know it was her most likely looking for something. But calling my cell first? That’s nuts. And so very un-country-style where people just drop in, which I hate actually. I don’t know where she learned her big city “I’ll call first” ettiquette. But then again, they’re not typical farm folk either.
Yeah, it’s going on almost fourty years now since Dad became a veg, and he’s never budged for one minute to eat a bit of the bird on the big Tday. Last year we had salmon, and he does eat fish. But this year we’re back to the silly traditional overstuffed large fake hormone-injected factory-created bird feast feeding overstuffed football brainwashed zombies, except for Dad, who’ll have to make due with the sides.
And there’s going to be a lot of it left over. They anticipated more of the family coming over, especially in celebration of their new place, but it looks like it’s just going to be me, them, and, unfortunately, Marla and a few of her redneck co-conspirators. Lamar, Nina and the kids are going up to Manitou to be with her family because her grandmother is like 100 and they don’t know how much longer she’ll be around. Melanie is working today, and afterward she’ll go to Denver where Trish will be with her family. So it looks like the rational part of the family in attendance will be outnumbered again.
Yup, this is going to be fantastic, I can tell already. Off to a good start. I’m taking my laptop with me so I won’t forget to document any insanity that comes my way.
Here we go. They have arrived. Marla, redneck spouse, and Kyle the boy wonder. Looks like her other kids are not coming. Now, this may be a pretty good match-up: The Paynes vs. The Stokes. Good times.
Ten o’clock is too early to start watching football. It’s just not right. I’m listening to Marla’s redneck husband hurling insults at the Packers and calling them a commie team (Ann should love that one). Of course Detroit is favored in his mind because he’s such a big motorsports nut. You wouldn’t want to be caught dead in a non-Detroit-made car around his way. Why yes, I do drive a Japanese car. But that’s ok, I’m dead to him anyway, thankfully.
He asks me what I’m doing. Yes, I had anticipated that, and have set up a bunch of tabs in Firefox with various football links so it looks like I’m checking sports stats and shit, just in case he looks over at my screen.
No, Marla, jello is not a substitute for a vegetable, you fool. And Dad will not eat it. Just because it is called a “jello salad” does not mean it is salad like in any form. You are stupid, Marla.
Dinner’s over, turkey was dry, but Mom cooked it forever. Dad wasn’t missing anything. Now it’s more football. Football Marathon. And more football. No one really gives a rat’s ass about football except The Redneck. Dad just watches it out of habit. I don’t think he’s really engaged.
Now we’re watching Miami vs. Dallas. OK, now I’m listening to Redneck hurl homosexual slurs at at Miami. Good thing Melanie isn’t here.
More football. More homosexual slurs being hurled at San Francisco. What an idiot. You know what is really funny? He doesn’t know where Balitmore is! Priceless. He really is a total moron. He thought it was in the midwest. It’s a shame he fathered five children. Too much stupid going into the human gene pool.
This is whole day is stupid. I’m going back to my place. I’ve had enough. The cat needs fed.
does this work?
It appears that I can post to my blog from the WordPress App, but I can’t do any fancy stuff, like add my avatar.
Also, you’re supposed to be able to take a picture, and then post it, but that doesn’t work. I’m not going to mess with it…I like typing on my laptop better anyway.
I dreamt I was in a car traveling towards the outskirts of a large city. It was supposedly LA, but it looked more like the outskirts of Milwaukee, sort of around HWY 18 heading toward Waukesha, the Republicany Walkery part of the state that I used to enjoy driving through until I heard about K. Nicholaus and the corrupt “ooops…here’s 7500 ballots”–the banana republicans that are Walker-shah. I’m not sure exactly who I was with; I think it was my mom of all people and she was driving (IRL she doesn’t drive). It appeared that we were driving through a railroad guard, but it was actually just underneath some sign or something. My eyes were actually worse than hers, if you can imagine. It was night or twilight and we were near a really creepy scroaty area with trailer homes and shacks. For some reason we stopped and got out to walk. I saw some scary backwoodsy guy, and then heard some barking. I looked behind me and it appeared to be a wolf coming down from a short but steep hill. It went down the road the other direction.
I dreamt I was at my grandmother’s house and was looking at items on the sideboard/dresser that was in the room my mom slept in when she visited, and which she presently has in her bedroom at home. There were old tubes of lipstick that were really large and seemed more like small bottles. One was a really pretty pearlescent color that was sort of translucent with nacreous blues, lilacs and pinks. I wanted to take them with me. In the dream my grandmother was still alive, although I can’t remember much else.
Heard that there was a banker @ OWS w/a sign that said “Get a Job.” Does banker realize that the 99% would be happy to eat cake, but that there is no cake to be eaten? Hey, banker “Get a Grip.”
People who live in insulated bubbles really piss me off.
About 9 AM this morning, I discovered Apollo was nowhere to be found. I know he was in the house when I got up earlier because I saw him snuggling by the furnace vent with Caligula. I looked under the bed, in the dog’s kennels, upstairs, under futons, even downstairs. I feared he got outside earlier in the morning when I was either putting out the mail or taking the dogs out. But usually when he gets outside, I’m well aware of it because he makes a big deal about it, mrrooooaaawing and rolling on the sidewalk or under the patio table. Could I have been half asleep and not noticed this? One afternoon in the summer, he got outside as I was coming back inside and I was unaware of it, and Stan saw him waiting bewilderedly by the back door and being scolded by a squirrel as he came home from work.
Went out of our way looking for a stand because Stan saw one on the way back from work, but by the time we got there, it was down, probably because it was really cold. Figured we could sign them at the rally on Saturday, and if worse comes to worse we could always print them out and sign them and mail them in. But they were canvassing the neighborhood last night so we got it done.
So I guess there’s going to be a “We Are The 99%” rally @ Ian’s Pizza off the capitol AND a Recall Walker rally on the capitol, both starting @ 11 am.
It’s November 15. Do you know what your Governor is doing?
Allright! Let the petitions be signed!
I heard a commentator on a news show say that the name “Paterno” means “father.” Hmm…kind of like, oh, I don’t know…Pope?
And what about the Hail Mary Pass?
You can’t make this stuff up.