as real as it may seem, it was only in my dreams
Friday - Slept fitfully thanks to dreams that I'm a world class cake decorator hired to sculpt masterpieces for demanding clients. Upon waking, discover arms are tired from hours spent rolling out fondant in my slumber. Blame is immediately placed on the hours spent watching episodes of Ace of Cakes and every Food Network Challenge involving cake decorating the week prior.
(Food Network, I am the vein to your crack. I've watched the Miley Cyrus' Sweet 16 episode of The Food Network Challenge four times already. The suspense? Gone. The goodness? In full-force. When I die, don't bury me in a casket. No. Bury me in a cakesket whipped up by Duff and his Charm City Cakes crew, please.)
Saturday - Slept fitfully thanks to dreams that I've become the 19th member (or the 20th, if we're counting the as yet not pregnant and counting Anna) of the Duggar family. REMS are compromised as I succumb to spiral perms, shopping for long denim skirts, and fighting Jim Bob and his can of Aquanet for moment alone in the bathroom. Wake up exhausted from completing an entire night's worth of Duggar jurisdictions, battling for my share of tator tot casserole, and trying to remember to answer to my new name, June Carter Duggar. Blame is immediately placed on sitting up the night before and watching DVR'd episodes of 17 and Counting (sigh...yes...yes, I've got it on season pass...) because my Tool Man was being a bit of an ass (p.s. Tool Man? I bet Jim Bob never acts like an ass! I mean, sure, he's killing the earth with all the hair spraying, but still!)
Moral of the story - What I watch while conscious directly impacts my subconscious, and apparently, I need to shake things up around here. I mean, I like cake, but dreaming about it?
So tonight, I may watch some porn before retiring for the evening. But just a wee bit. That part of me that's all Duggar reigns me in just a bit.
On waking up on the second morning of my restless nights, I rolled over and thought, "Well, yeah! Something to blog about!" Seriously. Because this is the quality high-brow I like to bring you people. Then I thought, "Sheesh, it's a wonder people don't want to roast me for giving them stuff like this." Later in the day, I opened my email and found a note from my friend Chag, the Cynical Dad. "A word of warning!" it read. "I'm taking suggestions for the next person to be roasted at my site. So far, two people have nominated you." By the end of the weekend, a few more people had thrown me under the bus, so Chag wrote me again and was all, "We're doing you," and I was all, "You're doing me?! Freaky! How'd you know I was just getting ready to watch some porn?!" (of course, by porn, I sort of mean I'm planning to watch the Jonas Brothers' segment from the Barbara Walters Oscar special I recorded earlier in the evening. Come to mama, Joe....).
If you'd like to do me (and don't mind if I call you Joe while you're having a go), or at the very least you want take a stab at me, please visit Chag for all the details. Honestly, I'm such a nice girl, I don't have a clue how you any of you are going to find things about me to go off on...
Labels: who am I to disagree?