There have been days where i go, well the entire day without speaking.  From sunup to sundown not saying a word to anyone or anything, and then i will randomly sing a catchphrase and screw everything up.

I recently put a bid in on my halloween/random ass fun time costume, which is a giant deluxe chicken costume.  i must say that the moment i get it i am taking it out of the box and going running around campus.  I wish i knew someone who has recently purchased a strange and exotic Halloween costume that could chase me in a whimsical and witty attempt at dry or stereotypical humor.  I honestly had no idea who the arch enemy of a chicken was and then it immediately dawned on me in two words “Da Boom,” also known as Peter Griffin.  Such a wonderful idea but nobody willing to commit to my ideas of retarded afternoon enjoyment.

I actually just finished watching Labyrinth for the first time in like 15 years and i must say, even more wonderful than it was when i was six.  Ambrosius is perhaps the greatest name for a dog, and especially a bearded collie (sheepdog).  I actually had to pause the movie for at least 2 minutes because i was laughing so hard when Sir Didymus said his name.  it was just so unexpected and incredibly amazing.  I was originally going to name whatever dog i get first in my life Scurvy but i think that Ambrosius is at least going to make the middle name at the very least.

Which brings me to my first topic of the day: is it appropriate for dog owners to treat their dogs like little people?  I know me mum treats her blue heeler Zip like a child and she even goes as far as calling him my little brother, which is creepy and weird.  Especially when he recognizes me by this title when i visit him.  He actually won’t eat whatever she gives him unless he sees that she is eating it too.  Which is weird.  I think idolizing animals, like idolizing anything really, should be treated like alcohol: In moderation.  I don’t know where this is going.

I actually got to meet Ricky Gervais in a dream the other night.  We actually met at the Stillwater YMCA and apparently he is really into Salsa dancing because that is what we did in the main lobby.  I am truly excited to report that he is a flexa-straight.  He kept staring at me really intensely and acting all weird and touchy feely but then i figured out he was messing around which makes that type of behavior totally okay.  Save it to say that once i figured he was comfortable in his gay-acting as i am we had the entire staff feeling mildly uncomfortable.  Even so, that man has a pedophile stare that can melt your bones if you aren’t careful.  We then talked a bit about the television show “Little Britain” which is some sketch humor that he felt a bit bitter toward.  But i was able to convince him that even though it was British comedy that didn’t involve him, it didn’t mean it wasn’t funny.  he didn’t approach the idea in an arrogant manner, believing that nothing can be funny without him, but it was more of an earnest and able bodied plea that had him believing that British comedy is lost without him.  I convinced him otherwise and we discussed my favorite bits and at the end of the night we exchanged numbers, his i still remember 9 digits of.  Dammit Ricky you better call me.

That was just an excerpt of that particular dream.  Yes my dreams do usually involve this high level of strange negotiation and random turn of the 16th century dancing techniques.  So no one can blame me if i need my 8 hours a night that i require, because its stressful stuff.

I dreamt about the Zombie Apocalypse last night.  I have never been so pissed off to wake up and realize that it was just a dream though.  My roommate makes one crafty ass damn zombie though.  He ALMOST tricked me in the fun ramp(shout out to Brett, the only person who is going to understand this vernacular) room of blackout in Halo 3.  He originally had me believe that because he was bitten he wanted me to take him out before he turned, but he was already about to turn and had put himself into the optimal position to make some AHH SHIT filled Brocberry pancakes.

Who decided that my dreams had to be so damn stressful?  i woke up this morning and had to resist the urge to bash Matt over the head with the nearest piping conduit (double tap for sure, this cat ain’t no fool) just to be sure he wouldn’t have a second chance!

HOOOT! pause.  The Macarena just randomly hit my playlist.  Thank you God.

Be back in two minutes, gotta do it. You know what I am talking about.

Okay Back.

…Totally worth it.  two minutes or more has ACTUALLY passed. Maybe not for you, with your cold glass of home brewed Iced tea.  Is that a new Snuggie i see?  Zebra print….classy. Does your mother know you make that face when you are concentrating on someone else’s prose?  Didn’t think so, fix it.

I love that damn dance.  I always loved the high school dances that instructed you on the moves because A) they get you in the mood to slice some carpet and B) Everyone feels like a professional dancer with this type of instructional reggae pumping over rusty loudspeakers.

I think i am going to convince my mother that i have gotten a girl (local or otherwise) pregnant simply for the sake that i think everyone should try to lie to their mother about something of no consequence at least one or twice in their life just to see if it is possible.

Lying to your mom is one of the hardest lies you will ever succeed in.  Not because of any fault on your part, you probably attempted the lie with flying colours (yes the British version of the word, for two reasons:  one when a British person lies no matter the consequence you want to believe them, and 2: I am currently imitating what Pumba would have sounded like if he would have been a south African warthog and am stuck in the similar dialect) but there is something about a mother, perhaps the reason being you spent 9 months playing the one way guessing game attached to the wall of her uterus, or perhaps its because your morals simply don’t allow you to say such tosh to the person who used to wipe your bum, either way its hard.

So i am giving everyone a homework assignment: Lie to your mothers about anything and everything, believable or complete anon, and see if you can hoodwink the unhoodwinkable.

and always remember:

“Deers are the only mothers willing to save themselves and sacrifice their children”

-Eleanor Roosevelt-