Random Things I Have Thought

It’s another slow news day today. I am very content and growing in my mindfulness practice, but honestly, there wasn’t a lot of crazy, sexy, or cool things that happened to me today.

So, here’s a look into my mind instead. Some random things I have thought about in the past.

Do guys use that vertical slit in the front of their underwear to pee from? If not, what is that slit for?

Do some people really and truly prefer pie to cake? How do they live their lives being so odd?

Do other people feel intense joy when something really great happens for someone they know or even a stranger? Am I the only one who gets emotionally invested in positive things that have nothing to do with me? I actively avoid negative things that have nothing to do with me.

When someone TPs another person’s house, do they go buy cheap toilet tissue especially for the occasion? Surely they don’t use their personal stash of Charmin, right?

How is everyone else able to handle alcohol so much better than me? What’s the damn secret?

Does anyone really think that garlic presses are really that great? I admire Gordon Ramsay and he uses one, but I’ve always kind of thought they were horseshit

What kind of random things are you thinking about?

What It’s Like: PERIODS!

I’ve decided to do a few posts where I describe, in a humorous, yet truthful way something that I am experiencing or have experienced in the near past. I don’t know how many of these I will do, but I am already really entertained by this idea, so I might do quite a few of them.

These will give me fodder into the new month, which is only today and tomorrow, but, well, let’s hope for the best.

Let’s start off with an explanation of what it’s like to have a period, aka menstruation cycle.

If you’re a man, do NOT stop reading right now. I will not give you any of the more moist details. Instead, I will regale you with anecdotes about the monthly visitor with which you have no experience. Men, be thankful for that! Oh, you already are? Oh, great.

Without further ado, I will “femsplain” my experience with periods.

Symptom One: Everyone Else is Awake

Welcome to the special hell that is the emotional roller coaster period town! The most awful part of having a period is really not the pain or the inconvenience. The worst part is OTHER PEOPLE. Other people will constantly walk around you, awake, alert, and existing, all while you sleepily look at them and wonder how you can make them all disappear.

This symptom is my favorite one, and it decided to come later in life, which is entirely, and utterly bullshit, in my opinion. Once, I was so tired, that I had to close the door to my office. I told myself that familiar lie: “I’ll just put my head down for a moment.” Of course, I immediately fell asleep and the next thing I knew, a co-worker was knocking on my door because it was time to go to Panera Bread for lunch. I’d been asleep for 30 minutes. Don’t tell my former boss.

Symptom Two: Everyone Drives So F*cking Badly and Even More F*cking Slowly

I don’t know if this happens to other people, but when I have my monthly marauder, the rest of the town somehow finds out. I think it might be the FBI tapping into my phone and then publishing the news in the local newspaper. I am sure of it.

The drivers of my town obviously read the newspaper and then simultaneously get in their cars and use the GPS on my phone to find my location. Then, all of the drivers in town proceed to follow me around, consistently driving at least 5 mph below the speed limit. This synchronized driving hell happens for the duration of my ailment, and then miraculously, everyone drives like the regular assholes I’ve come to expect on the road. It’s strange. Should I call Snowden and report this? Everyone is plotting against me.

Symptom Three: My Refrigerator Becomes Small

For those few days a month, my refrigerator shrinks. There’s simply not enough space in there to keep all of the food that I need to consume. I need space for sparkling water, yogurt, donuts, sweet tea, pie, cake, steak, baked potatoes, salad, salad dressing, avocados, etc. No matter what size refrigerator it is, there’s simply not enough food inside. It’s strange. The thing works fine the rest of the month.

Symptom Four: Dogs are the Best and Children Can’t be Quiet Enough

I am a cat person. I could also be a dog person. But, a period makes me want to adopt every dog on television. I hide my credit cards during period time so I don’t end up adopting every dog that comes on those “save the pets” infomercials late at night. The insomnia, which also comes with this time of the month, ensures that I am awake to watch infomercials, so it is very important that I do not have a credit card handy. I need to keep all that money to buy food that won’t fit in my refrigerator.

And speaking of small, living things, children become extra noisy during this time of the month. Even if a child is sleeping peacefully, and snoring quietly, I still secretly want to yell SOMEONE SHUT THAT DAMN BABY UP when it’s that time of the month. I don’t know; I guess I get something like super sonic hearing.

Symptom Five: Morphine Drip Bags are a Necessity 

Midol? Ha ha ha, get that shit out of here. Give those to your infants when they have a fever. Pamprin? Ha ha ha, pink sugar pills with no use other than to drop in your tea for sweetener. Morphine? Yes, please pass the drip bags and the needles. Thank you, very much.

And that’s it, ladies and gentlemen. You now know what it’s exactly like to have a period! It’s not so bad, is it?

Gentlemen: did you read until the end? Give yourself a big ole pat on the back. Go treat yourself to a Snickers bar.

Ladies: What’s your favorite symptom? You, too, deserve a Snickers bar!

Thanks for reading and being weird with me.

Until next time, my friends…

Weird Dreams #1

My waking brain may not be full of writing inspiration today, but thankfully, my sleeping brain is coming in with the hail Mary, throwing an incredible pass, with me here, sitting at my keyboard, waiting to catch it and share it with you.

Today’s post reveals a little known fact about me: I have WEIRD ASS DREAMS.

Do you?

This has been an affliction (or should I say gift?) for as long as I remember. I still remember one of the weirdest dreams that I ever had–one where I was hanging out with Patrick Stewart and the rest of the Star Trek Next Generation crew at an off-world theme park. Turns out, even in my dreams and even on a different planet, I still vomit if I ride the roller coaster. Go figure; just my luck. I remember having that dream when I was maybe in middle school.

Last night, I had a super weird dream, too.

In my dream last night, I was shopping at a local grocery chain named “Fiesta.” My friends who know me will know that this dream is already super weird because I absolutely loathe going into any of the Fiesta stores. They’re great stores, with seemingly mountains and mountains of produce, but they’re just so damn big that I feel lost before I even make it out of the parking lot.

Back to the dream…

So, I was walking around a Fiesta store, minding my own business, when out of nowhere, up walks a plainly dressed Denzel Washington.

YES, Denzel Washington. No, I have not thought about him or even seen one of his  movies since that one called “Fences”, which I think came out in 2016. I barely watch any television and the last movie I saw was “The Greatest Showman” and Hugh Jackman looks nothing like Denzel Washington. And, no, I have no idea what the f*ck, to be honest.

Let’s continue, now that you’re as confused, but hopefully amused, as me…

Mr. Washington is dressed in a rather drab, long brown trench coat. I don’t remember the rest of his garb, but I remember this hideous and unstylish coat, which makes him look like a sloppy old dude, instead of a dapper Hollywood movie star.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks.

I looked at him, in confusion and horror, still trying to figure out why on Earth his coat is so got damn ugly, and I shake my head.

“Uhh, no, no I don’t,” I rejected him. He looks confused and walks away. I remain confused, standing still.

He walks farther and farther away, and I stand still, in the dream, for what felt like at least five minutes. I watch him walk around the produce section, with the mountainous piles of oranges and avocados concealing his lower body. I watch him wind up and down the aisles, casually shopping for yellow rice and candies. He seemed so damn, hmm, REGULAR.

Eventually, I snap out of it, and decide that I’m being a huge creep, and I go about my own shopping. Later still, I think, Wait, who wouldn’t want to know a secret that Denzel Washington has?

As I am in a checkout line, I decide to apologize and ask him to tell me the secret. I get out of line, and frantically walk along the registers, looking for him. I spot him. I go over and get behind him in his line.

“Mr. Washington, umm, about before, well, umm, yeah, I’m sorry, and, umm, can I get in on that secret now?” I stumble.

He smiles and says, “Sure, but you’ll have to wait until we get to the parking lot now.”

We checked out, paid for our stuff, and he waits for me by the exit door. When we exit the door, the parking lot is expansive. There are hundreds of rows of cars, with seemingly every single parking spot full. There are people everywhere; it’s like a car show, but with groceries.

I am suddenly hit with a wave of anxiety.

“I don’t know where I parked my car,” I tell him, shaking with fear, feeling overwhelmed, the stimuli from the music from the cars and the movement from all of the people milling about feeling like a giant hand that is shaking me and throwing me around in my own mind.

“Follow me,” he instructs, and begins to walk.

We walk, and walk, turning our buggies this way and that way, meandering through the cars, somehow no one recognizing that Oscar winner and prolific actor, Denzel Washington, is cooly walking amongst them, in a parking lot at the Fiesta grocery store, leading a lost woman to her car, or somewhere, where she may hear a secret.

We dodge all kinds of obstacles–flung open doors, ruffigans giving us dirty looks, beggars asking for change. It is an absolute zoo.

And then, I wake up.

I never find out what Denzel’s secret was.

I never find my car.

I never get my groceries home.

I never find out why in the bloody hell I’d ever be caught at a Fiesta grocery store.

And I never find out why Denzel’s coat was so got damn ugly.

 

What do you think?

Until tomorrow, my friends…

Meaningful Media

A writer is a reader

A good writer is an avid reader.

In the past, I have been asked about how I acquired my command of the English language.  Even though English is notoriously difficult to learn, it can be done with some ease if you read. A lot. All the time.

I have recently rediscovered my fondness for poetry books and personal anecdotes.  I’ve also purchased two issues of “The New Yorker ” in the past month. It’s always good for highly intellectual articles and a challenge to my vocabulary skillset.

Last week, I fell in love with this little book. I read it in a day.  It’s a personal anecdote about meeting life’s changes humbly. I loved it.

What are you reading?

Until tomorrow my friends…