Space Case

Man, I worked a lot this week. It may be the first week that I actually spent more time at work than awake at home. Is that sad?

So, by work I mean pushing a button and then spending the next few to several hours in la-la land. So here are some of my deep thoughts.

If I were a cop on one of those cop shows with two cops doing rogue-cop things (see Carter and Briggs from Regular Show), I think I wouldn't use guns--I would use my fists. I'd be like, "These guns don't run out of ammo," as I held my right fist like it was some kind of gun. I also wouldn't use profanity or anything even mildly close to it (my angry phrase would be "Bad Words!"), and most of my cases would involve busting contraband Cadbury Egg dealers. They're dangerous, you see, for contributing to obesity and ADD and fits of depression when Easter season ends and they are no longer available. Plus they're too rich for even me. Most of all, my signature catch phrase would be "You're under arrest. You have the right to remain punched!" And then I would punch him/her, if I already hadn't done so... numerous times.
I might actually turn this into a script. I've already got the two names of the cops picked out.

And then I found this video on Bookface, but not at work:

Sure the dog things is warm and fuzzy, but did you hear the sound the cat made when it fell of the ladder? LOLES!!

I only buy Bluebell ice cream when it's under 7 bucks at the store. 

Tomorrow is Father's day, so the ward linger longer is doing a "bring your father's favorite dish" thing. Well, I sure as Bad Words am not going to bring CORNED BEEF! What kind of human being wants corned beef for any type of special day, dad? Maybe people who live in Ireland... or Mars...

I talk to myself a lot when I drive places. I even try to say the same two words over and over again for 20 minutes. Maybe I'm practicing for the next game of "See who can get an annoyed reaction out of dad first". Maybe I'm just crazy. Ya, I'm pretty crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. Pretty. Crazy. GENTLEMEN, THAT'S ENOUGH!!

Nathan Fillion is going to be in the new "Much Ado about Nothing," playing the role as Dogberry, which was played by Michael Keaton in the Kenneth Branaugh version. Thought the world might need to know.

I want to go to bed at night and have a cat attack my under-the-covers feet. I want a cat to sit on my face. I want to send my little sister cat memes, but I don't think I should cause she's on her mission.

I want to freakin hug a cat RIGHT NOW!!

The broken link from last post was supposed to say "booger."

My next fantasy team name is going to be "Risky Biscuits." Not originally mine, but I know genius when I see it. 

I want to go to St. Paul, Minneapolis to eat at the Nook, getting a juicy loosey burger. It would be a good honeymoon destination. I have no reason to be talking about honeymoons right now. We could stop in Des Moines, Iowa, for the Adam Emenecker challenge on the way. Also, St. Louis to get a Monte Cristo dog at the Iron Barley. 

Which reminds me... I totally have to wake up tomorrow morning and do some pig-in-the-blankets which are not totally NOT corned beef. I should probably go to bed soon...

Dream Journal

It finally happened!! I had a dream...

....where I was Batman.

Seriously! Complete with suit, muscles, and the voice of a chronic smoker. Except, I wasn't in Gotham City, I was at Danbury Elementary School, protecting a whole playground of kids from the possibility of Joker... who might not have even existed. I really wanted to join in on the kids' fun, but I was scared that justice just couldn't take a break. I eventually took action, but everything got really hazy at that point until I was no longer Batman but at a basketball game with some buddies.

Ok, for the basketball dream, I'm gonna have to use a certain 4 letter f word that may be offensive to some readers, so beware. And I am no longer Batman at this point in the dream, but still Batman in real life.
One of the players on the other team was an old roommate of mine from college who actually never played any sports with us but was quite good at throwing swing dance parties in the house. I was watching the game from the bench, and the only thing I remembered was him shooting a three-pointer and the gym getting dead silent as the ball was in the air--kind of like one of those dramatic basketball movie last-shot-to-win-it-all things... except as it was about halfway there, the said roommate let out a really sad sounding... fart. Sorry!!! When I say sad, I don't mean weak, but more of like a decrescendo minor key kind of thing, cause it was clearly audible to everyone who started laughing so much that I'm pretty sure I cried right on my pillow in real life. Then the shot went in, and I was like, "Should that count? I mean, he got a little boost..."

Why do guys find farts so funny? I mean, is it cultural or genetic? I think it's genetic and we just plum can't help it. I know one of my nephews already thinks it's freakin hilarious, and he's a bit too young to really let culture mold him too much. At least he knows it's inappropriate now to do it at the dinner table.

So I've always known that emotions are pronounced in dreams--at least they are in mine. I've been angrier, sadder, and happier in my dreams than I've ever been in real life (and I'm talking real REM dreams, not fantasizing) and now I think I've laughed harder than I ever have in real life. And I can say that if there was ever a time that undigested beef played a part in my subconscious like Scrooge claims it can, it was last night.

This is What My Blog Is Now

Have you ever said a word to yourself so many times that it becomes phonetically amusing? I'm sure you have. It's an experience we all should have. Therefore, try it with this word: http://192.20.225.36/tts/speech/ee1f6e675f915822e816795ae293edf8.wav