I have no blood*. I don't have any blubber either. This means I'm always cold. The second a chilly breeze hits me I'm walking around in a parka, shaking like a chihuahua. This also means that people think there is something wrong with me because I'm a freak for heat. I gravitate toward anything warm with a sort of sickly devotion. I hoard blankets in my house like a troll. I keep my thickest spare sweater at work...and wear it...always - which prompts concernicus looks from everyone around me. I take random showers just so I can enjoy the scalding hot water and make the bathroom my personal steam room. I've even burned the inside of my nose from leaning over a steaming pot of boiling water. Brilliant, I know. But I'm desperate. If it wasn't for Sig-O** and my dog, who take turns keeping me warm, I'd probably freeze to death during the night. It's that bad. Really. I'm starting to think I'm cold blooded or something. It took 120 degrees of heat in Arizona this summer for me to finally feel cozy.
This isn't fair. I want to be one of those people who can walk around in shorts and a t-shirt in the middle of winter, snow be damned. Even if they do look retarded. Please, send your freakish heat waves my way! I'm serious.
Sigh. Maybe I'm an ice monster. Secretly. You know, like Frosty*** or something.
*No, really. In fact, every time I get my blood pressure taken they ask me if I feel faint. They won't let me give blood either because they say I'll just pass out right away.
**For those not in the know, Sig-O is my significant other. Commonly called my boyfriend.
***Don't even argue that he's not a monster. If your snowman suddenly started running around talking to you, you'd shit your pants
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Why are you doing 55 in the fast lane?! Oh, you're from Pennsylvania. That's why.
In the interest of full disclosure, I'll admit it. I speed. A lot. Because I can*. For that matter, most of the people I know speed whenever they drive. So maybe that just sets me up to encounter this problem, but still. Seriously people, if you're going to drive slowly, then get the hell out of the fast lane. You never know what's behind you. Consider that fair warning.
Since I drive so fast, it is only natural that I encounter people who are moving slower than me. That's fine, I accept it. In my state, when people see me speeding up behind them they just move over. Problem solved, tailgating avoided, and everyone is happy. But driving in Pennsylvania** is a completely different story. Pennsylvania drivers don't seem to understand the concept of having a "fast lane" and a "travel lane" (travel being the operative word for slow in this case). Oooooooh no. To them, every lane is the travel lane. And that means that they will sit in the fast lane doing 55 while I try to hold on to my sanity behind them. And by sit, I mean that they will NOT move, even if there is an opening in the other lane (which there isn't because they're doing the same speed as the people in the other lane so you end up with that frustrating phenomena of two cars driving right next to each other for miles....).
So I tailgate. As my way of saying " F***ing MOVE already!" But this only results in stern looks from the offending driver in their rearview mirror. At this point, I start to feel funny - like I'm going to burst open or something. My face starts to flush and the car feels too hot because my soul is suddenly a boil- skinned, fire-breathing, winged monster stuck inside a tiny body and it's trying to get out so it can forcibly remove the car from the path of my driving rampage. To save the person in front of me from a horrible death and the world from imminent destruction, I'm forced to take action. While swallowing hard to douse the flames and keep the beast at bay, I resort to my last choice - I pass on the right. Much to the consternation and disapproval of the person being passed. Even though they started it. I want to tell the "Man, I just saved your life." But no. Instead I just smile blithely and continue on my way. I wonder if they can see the demon glaring out my eyes.
So, Pennsylvania drivers, now do you see why I need you to move? If you're suddenly flame roasted and snatched up to eat as a snack on the fly, don't say I didn't warn you.
*If you know me, you know just how true this is. And you also know how good I am at getting out of tickets.
**I went to college in Pennsylvania. I almost lost my mind during my four years there.
Since I drive so fast, it is only natural that I encounter people who are moving slower than me. That's fine, I accept it. In my state, when people see me speeding up behind them they just move over. Problem solved, tailgating avoided, and everyone is happy. But driving in Pennsylvania** is a completely different story. Pennsylvania drivers don't seem to understand the concept of having a "fast lane" and a "travel lane" (travel being the operative word for slow in this case). Oooooooh no. To them, every lane is the travel lane. And that means that they will sit in the fast lane doing 55 while I try to hold on to my sanity behind them. And by sit, I mean that they will NOT move, even if there is an opening in the other lane (which there isn't because they're doing the same speed as the people in the other lane so you end up with that frustrating phenomena of two cars driving right next to each other for miles....).
So I tailgate. As my way of saying " F***ing MOVE already!" But this only results in stern looks from the offending driver in their rearview mirror. At this point, I start to feel funny - like I'm going to burst open or something. My face starts to flush and the car feels too hot because my soul is suddenly a boil- skinned, fire-breathing, winged monster stuck inside a tiny body and it's trying to get out so it can forcibly remove the car from the path of my driving rampage. To save the person in front of me from a horrible death and the world from imminent destruction, I'm forced to take action. While swallowing hard to douse the flames and keep the beast at bay, I resort to my last choice - I pass on the right. Much to the consternation and disapproval of the person being passed. Even though they started it. I want to tell the "Man, I just saved your life." But no. Instead I just smile blithely and continue on my way. I wonder if they can see the demon glaring out my eyes.
So, Pennsylvania drivers, now do you see why I need you to move? If you're suddenly flame roasted and snatched up to eat as a snack on the fly, don't say I didn't warn you.
*If you know me, you know just how true this is. And you also know how good I am at getting out of tickets.
**I went to college in Pennsylvania. I almost lost my mind during my four years there.
Dear Cat...
Dear Cat,
I love you. But I don't love you so much when I wake up at 1 am to the sound of you heaving on my bedspread. Nor do I have a fancy for finding a line of your barf strewn across my carpet when I walk into the living room in the morning. I don't appreciate finding more of the same presents when I get out of the shower. I downright do not understand why you also feel the need to barf in hidden places, like under the couch or my bed. And, Cat, the retching noises scare me. HuuuuuuuuuHhhh HHEEEEEEEhhh HHuuuuuuuuuhhhh BLAH. What is that about? Your love of vomiting at inconvenient times and in strange places just baffles me. I know you're doing this on purpose. Do you want attention? Is barfing your hidden ace when waving your cat-butt in my face doesn't work? You must have realized that when you do this I get concerned and check on you all day. Why else would you regurgitate something as benign as water all over my rug?
But maybe I'm misreading your neediness. Maybe this is revenge. Are you angry that I've been gone much of the past month? I'm sorry, Cat, but it could not be helped; it was business travel. Do you seek vengeance because I introduced Wooey Dog into your world? Again, I'm sorry, Cat, but you need to get over it. She's really not that bad. She doesn't chase you and only sniffs you because she wants to be friends. If you could get over yourself and stop clawing at her face, maybe you two could get along.
Whatever the cause, barfing is not the solution. I don't have the right stuff to get your bile out of my rug, and you refuse to move the two steps onto to the tile to make the cleanup job easy. If you keep this up, I'm going to have to take you to the vet. And then you'll really be pissed.
Love (most of the time),
me
P.S. Please stop licking strange things, like my jeans and the carpet. It creeps me out.
I love you. But I don't love you so much when I wake up at 1 am to the sound of you heaving on my bedspread. Nor do I have a fancy for finding a line of your barf strewn across my carpet when I walk into the living room in the morning. I don't appreciate finding more of the same presents when I get out of the shower. I downright do not understand why you also feel the need to barf in hidden places, like under the couch or my bed. And, Cat, the retching noises scare me. HuuuuuuuuuHhhh HHEEEEEEEhhh HHuuuuuuuuuhhhh BLAH. What is that about? Your love of vomiting at inconvenient times and in strange places just baffles me. I know you're doing this on purpose. Do you want attention? Is barfing your hidden ace when waving your cat-butt in my face doesn't work? You must have realized that when you do this I get concerned and check on you all day. Why else would you regurgitate something as benign as water all over my rug?
But maybe I'm misreading your neediness. Maybe this is revenge. Are you angry that I've been gone much of the past month? I'm sorry, Cat, but it could not be helped; it was business travel. Do you seek vengeance because I introduced Wooey Dog into your world? Again, I'm sorry, Cat, but you need to get over it. She's really not that bad. She doesn't chase you and only sniffs you because she wants to be friends. If you could get over yourself and stop clawing at her face, maybe you two could get along.
Whatever the cause, barfing is not the solution. I don't have the right stuff to get your bile out of my rug, and you refuse to move the two steps onto to the tile to make the cleanup job easy. If you keep this up, I'm going to have to take you to the vet. And then you'll really be pissed.
Love (most of the time),
me
P.S. Please stop licking strange things, like my jeans and the carpet. It creeps me out.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
three more reasons why the bathroom is the bane of my existence
Yea, I know. But it has to be said. Before I go insane and start laughing hysterically while I'm in there. Because that would probably just make things worse.
1) Other people. Stop following me into the bathroom! Stop it. Please. I cannot go with you in there, and it's awkward for me to hold the door open for you when we both know that one of us probably has to shit. It's even worse when that person is me. Because I can't do that with other people around. So I wash my hands and leave. Which leaves me with two problems: I still have to go, and now I look like a weirdo for coming to the bathroom to wash my hands when I could have used the office kitchen. That's a double whammy.*
2)The toilet paper dispensers. They. are. the devil. Either there is too much paper shoved in them so it won't spin and you have to pull off one piece at a time or there is no paper at all, leaving you stranded. If you are lucky enough to find the happy medium roll, you spend so much time fumbling around trying to find the end sheet while the dispenser squeaks mercilessly that it sounds like you're having a seizure. It's just a lose-lose situation.
3) Automatic flush toilets. Why? Who thought this was a good idea? They supposedly have sensors to tell them when it's ok to flip the switch, but it never works. They ALWAYS flush while you're still sitting there. So you always end up racing them. Trying to finish first. Before they flush and send a gust of air and splash of cold water straight into your crotchel region. ** While this may be what the inventors of the bidet were going for, in practice this is much less refreshing than it sounds.
Maybe public restrooms are just a bad idea in general. Then again, maybe having to go to the bathroom is just a bad idea. Solution: we should all be vampires. Shazam! Problem solved.
*For the love of God, I hope someone gets this reference. Mitch Hedberg.
**On a side note, it's always a little scary when the toilet flushes with you on it. Aside from the gross factor, I can't help but be a little afraid it'll suck me down too. Or that an alligator will crawl up in place of water.
UPDATE: I lied. I have a number four for you. Courtesy of a convo with Iz.
4) How there is never anything to dry your hands with. The paper towels are always gone. So you're forced to turn to the hulking wind machine on the wall. Which is a bad idea. Those blow drier things never work. And once they're on, you feel like you're eighty and can't hear anything. While you're thinking about the permanent damage being done to your hearing, you look down and see that you suddenly have mutant hands because the stupid drier is blowing your skin in all kinds of shapes and directions. Do you really have to put that much power into a bathroom blow drier? It doesn't dry anything anyway. So you give up and wipe your hands on your back pockets. And walk around with wet hand prints on your ass for a while. Yessssssss.
1) Other people. Stop following me into the bathroom! Stop it. Please. I cannot go with you in there, and it's awkward for me to hold the door open for you when we both know that one of us probably has to shit. It's even worse when that person is me. Because I can't do that with other people around. So I wash my hands and leave. Which leaves me with two problems: I still have to go, and now I look like a weirdo for coming to the bathroom to wash my hands when I could have used the office kitchen. That's a double whammy.*
2)The toilet paper dispensers. They. are. the devil. Either there is too much paper shoved in them so it won't spin and you have to pull off one piece at a time or there is no paper at all, leaving you stranded. If you are lucky enough to find the happy medium roll, you spend so much time fumbling around trying to find the end sheet while the dispenser squeaks mercilessly that it sounds like you're having a seizure. It's just a lose-lose situation.
3) Automatic flush toilets. Why? Who thought this was a good idea? They supposedly have sensors to tell them when it's ok to flip the switch, but it never works. They ALWAYS flush while you're still sitting there. So you always end up racing them. Trying to finish first. Before they flush and send a gust of air and splash of cold water straight into your crotchel region. ** While this may be what the inventors of the bidet were going for, in practice this is much less refreshing than it sounds.
Maybe public restrooms are just a bad idea in general. Then again, maybe having to go to the bathroom is just a bad idea. Solution: we should all be vampires. Shazam! Problem solved.
*For the love of God, I hope someone gets this reference. Mitch Hedberg.
**On a side note, it's always a little scary when the toilet flushes with you on it. Aside from the gross factor, I can't help but be a little afraid it'll suck me down too. Or that an alligator will crawl up in place of water.
UPDATE: I lied. I have a number four for you. Courtesy of a convo with Iz.
4) How there is never anything to dry your hands with. The paper towels are always gone. So you're forced to turn to the hulking wind machine on the wall. Which is a bad idea. Those blow drier things never work. And once they're on, you feel like you're eighty and can't hear anything. While you're thinking about the permanent damage being done to your hearing, you look down and see that you suddenly have mutant hands because the stupid drier is blowing your skin in all kinds of shapes and directions. Do you really have to put that much power into a bathroom blow drier? It doesn't dry anything anyway. So you give up and wipe your hands on your back pockets. And walk around with wet hand prints on your ass for a while. Yessssssss.
does this mean i'm racist?
I don't consider myself a racist. But I have noticed a few things. And I'm not the only one. So if you're a minority or a foreigner and you're easily offended, you might want to stop reading now.
I was just having a discussion with my friend Jack*. We were going back and forth about driving woes when I mentioned I'd love to complain about foreign drivers (mentally referring to Asians**) in a post but that would be racist. The response I got?
Jack: "Not racist, foreignist. Unless they're asian and you focus on that. Then it's racist."
Excuse me, what was that? When I said "horrible foreign drivers" you immediately assumed I was talking about Asians without me having to say it? Gee, I wonder why you jumped to that conclusion. NOT. Enter my complete lack of surprise. Why? Because it's true. Every morning on my commute to work I spy at least five of these poor souls looking lost and confused as they frantically (or hesitantly - which is even worse considering the vicious nature of American motorists) try to navigate the roads. For some forsaken reason, the concept of "merge here" doesn't seem to compute with them. They consistently try to continue driving next to me with a confused expression, competing to be in front even though -following the "zipper" merge method- it is rightfully my turn to go. WTF people? Wait your turn. I don't know why you look so confused. It's not that hard. This isn't to say that they are the only offenders in this respect - they are hardly the only ones who do it. But next time you're driving, look at the Asian driver next to you and tell me they don't look scared or confused by their surroundings. Am I wrong? Even Iz agrees with me, and she's Asian.
Maybe there's some cultural connection that I'm missing. Maybe not. But this same clump- and-ignore-the-people-trying-to-get-around-you concept doesn't just apply to them when approaching a merge in the road. They do it on foot, too. On my college campus, we had a huge foreign exchange population. This made for some awesome diversity at the school, and I was very much a fan of it. What I was not a fan of was what Blondie and I came to call "flocking Asians."*** Essentially, this referred to the obnoxiously large gatherings of exchange students on the sidewalk. These people would flock into groups of about ten and would just stand in the middle of the sidewalk, talking. What you must know is that I went to a very large school. There were so many students on campus that it was hard to walk to class on time even without these roadblocks because kids were already walking everywhere there was to walk - sidewalks, roads, across the grass.**** Try to imagine walking down the street in a place like New York City and encountering such a group. You would NOT be happy. But why was it only them? And why didn't they ever move, even though everyone was obviously glaring at them? Gah.
But lest you think that I have something against Asians, allow me to share some of my visually acquired knowledge of my community's Indian population (Yes, I know that technically they are Asian too, but go with me here). One, they're afraid of dogs. Or maybe just my dog. Which doesn't make any sense because my dog isn't excessively large and is fairly calm and sweet looking. Yet, every time I walk her around my apartment development (which is predominantly Indian) the children scream/run away when they see her and the parents pull their children away from us. When this first happened to me, I assumed that perhaps that family had had a particularly bad experience with another black dog. But it kept happening. Over and over. And only with the Indian folks. Again, I feel like I'm missing some cultural thing. But really, people, the screaming is excessive. Not to mention it's a good way to get my dog's attention. And when you run away from us, she just wants to follow you. So stop it.
Two, Indians like to wander around on walks. At any time of day or night. And generally I'm in favor of this. Being outside is a good thing. I like to be outside. But when you do it at 11:30 pm and you're not walking your dog or on the phone, it's a little creepy. Why are you walking around in the cold and dark for no reason? In fact, shouldn't you be getting ready for bed? Don't you have work in the morning? I don't get it.
You might expect that I'd move on to Black observations next (since I'm assuming that you think I'm a raging racist by this point). But you'd be wrong. I really haven't noticed any things that I would call group trends (like those above). Except that you really don't want to mess with a Black woman. Because you will lose. Always. And that little Black boys are adorable. And they're really good distance runners in general (see the NYC marathon for proof). Instead, my next set of observations are of White people. Like me. I am included in all of these things. For better or worse. For instance, White people can't jump. We're also slow. It's true. Don't even argue with me. I've accepted it. Try running track for a year and then you'll understand. In general, Whites are rednecks in the South, rude in the North, and slow (no, relaxed isn't an excuse) on the West Coast. That's just the way it is. Put one of us somewhere else, and everyone will know where we're from.***** I'm sure you can guess where I was raised. Whites also seem to have a strange obsession with Starbucks. On all levels. I can't fathom why.****** Finally, I've noticed that White Americans are ignorant of what's going on outside our own country. I've traveled abroad a ton and I always feel like an idiot. Find me 10 people off the street - who are not politicians - who can tell you what the G20 is. My point exactly.
So, does this post make me a racist? Is it really wrong to point out a trend just because it applies to a group? I don't think so. Just as long as you realize that every person is an individual. Even if they do look confused, wander late at night, or go to Starbucks religiously.
* If I didn't mention this already, all names have been...adapted.
**By Asian here I mean those who were not born in this country. And quite obviously learned their driving skills elsewhere. Gah.
***In this case, it was specifically this group of people so don't go making assumptions that I'm a racist. I never saw anyone else do it to the same ridiculous extent.
****Not to mention the fact that we had to dodge buses, bikers, skateboarders, rollerbladers, and even a unicyclist to begin with.
*****The same could be true for the other racial groups, but to me they seem to have a much more overarching cultural identity than White Americans. White people tend to identify more by region, in my experience.
******I have an enduring hatred for Starbucks. This is mostly because they tore down the Dairy Queen in my hometown and built a Starbucks. Damn it.
I was just having a discussion with my friend Jack*. We were going back and forth about driving woes when I mentioned I'd love to complain about foreign drivers (mentally referring to Asians**) in a post but that would be racist. The response I got?
Jack: "Not racist, foreignist. Unless they're asian and you focus on that. Then it's racist."
Excuse me, what was that? When I said "horrible foreign drivers" you immediately assumed I was talking about Asians without me having to say it? Gee, I wonder why you jumped to that conclusion. NOT. Enter my complete lack of surprise. Why? Because it's true. Every morning on my commute to work I spy at least five of these poor souls looking lost and confused as they frantically (or hesitantly - which is even worse considering the vicious nature of American motorists) try to navigate the roads. For some forsaken reason, the concept of "merge here" doesn't seem to compute with them. They consistently try to continue driving next to me with a confused expression, competing to be in front even though -following the "zipper" merge method- it is rightfully my turn to go. WTF people? Wait your turn. I don't know why you look so confused. It's not that hard. This isn't to say that they are the only offenders in this respect - they are hardly the only ones who do it. But next time you're driving, look at the Asian driver next to you and tell me they don't look scared or confused by their surroundings. Am I wrong? Even Iz agrees with me, and she's Asian.
Maybe there's some cultural connection that I'm missing. Maybe not. But this same clump- and-ignore-the-people-trying-to-get-around-you concept doesn't just apply to them when approaching a merge in the road. They do it on foot, too. On my college campus, we had a huge foreign exchange population. This made for some awesome diversity at the school, and I was very much a fan of it. What I was not a fan of was what Blondie and I came to call "flocking Asians."*** Essentially, this referred to the obnoxiously large gatherings of exchange students on the sidewalk. These people would flock into groups of about ten and would just stand in the middle of the sidewalk, talking. What you must know is that I went to a very large school. There were so many students on campus that it was hard to walk to class on time even without these roadblocks because kids were already walking everywhere there was to walk - sidewalks, roads, across the grass.**** Try to imagine walking down the street in a place like New York City and encountering such a group. You would NOT be happy. But why was it only them? And why didn't they ever move, even though everyone was obviously glaring at them? Gah.
But lest you think that I have something against Asians, allow me to share some of my visually acquired knowledge of my community's Indian population (Yes, I know that technically they are Asian too, but go with me here). One, they're afraid of dogs. Or maybe just my dog. Which doesn't make any sense because my dog isn't excessively large and is fairly calm and sweet looking. Yet, every time I walk her around my apartment development (which is predominantly Indian) the children scream/run away when they see her and the parents pull their children away from us. When this first happened to me, I assumed that perhaps that family had had a particularly bad experience with another black dog. But it kept happening. Over and over. And only with the Indian folks. Again, I feel like I'm missing some cultural thing. But really, people, the screaming is excessive. Not to mention it's a good way to get my dog's attention. And when you run away from us, she just wants to follow you. So stop it.
Two, Indians like to wander around on walks. At any time of day or night. And generally I'm in favor of this. Being outside is a good thing. I like to be outside. But when you do it at 11:30 pm and you're not walking your dog or on the phone, it's a little creepy. Why are you walking around in the cold and dark for no reason? In fact, shouldn't you be getting ready for bed? Don't you have work in the morning? I don't get it.
You might expect that I'd move on to Black observations next (since I'm assuming that you think I'm a raging racist by this point). But you'd be wrong. I really haven't noticed any things that I would call group trends (like those above). Except that you really don't want to mess with a Black woman. Because you will lose. Always. And that little Black boys are adorable. And they're really good distance runners in general (see the NYC marathon for proof). Instead, my next set of observations are of White people. Like me. I am included in all of these things. For better or worse. For instance, White people can't jump. We're also slow. It's true. Don't even argue with me. I've accepted it. Try running track for a year and then you'll understand. In general, Whites are rednecks in the South, rude in the North, and slow (no, relaxed isn't an excuse) on the West Coast. That's just the way it is. Put one of us somewhere else, and everyone will know where we're from.***** I'm sure you can guess where I was raised. Whites also seem to have a strange obsession with Starbucks. On all levels. I can't fathom why.****** Finally, I've noticed that White Americans are ignorant of what's going on outside our own country. I've traveled abroad a ton and I always feel like an idiot. Find me 10 people off the street - who are not politicians - who can tell you what the G20 is. My point exactly.
So, does this post make me a racist? Is it really wrong to point out a trend just because it applies to a group? I don't think so. Just as long as you realize that every person is an individual. Even if they do look confused, wander late at night, or go to Starbucks religiously.
* If I didn't mention this already, all names have been...adapted.
**By Asian here I mean those who were not born in this country. And quite obviously learned their driving skills elsewhere. Gah.
***In this case, it was specifically this group of people so don't go making assumptions that I'm a racist. I never saw anyone else do it to the same ridiculous extent.
****Not to mention the fact that we had to dodge buses, bikers, skateboarders, rollerbladers, and even a unicyclist to begin with.
*****The same could be true for the other racial groups, but to me they seem to have a much more overarching cultural identity than White Americans. White people tend to identify more by region, in my experience.
******I have an enduring hatred for Starbucks. This is mostly because they tore down the Dairy Queen in my hometown and built a Starbucks. Damn it.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
sleep secretly wants to ruin my life.
It seems to be a fact of life that sleep isn't always so restful. At times, it just causes unnecessary problems. Some sleepwalk, others sleep-eat, and a select few even sleep-drive (scary prospect, I know). Personally, I seem to be prone to sleep-talking. While this might seem to be the lesser of the evils listed above, let me tell you...sleep talking isn't all cutesy. Those nicely sketched word bubble clouds in comics are extremely misleading. In reality, sleep-talk is a confusion-wreaking monster that stomps around while you sleep, throwing your credible sanity to the wind.
How does this happen? Because I don't just mumble incoherently while I sleep. While the vast majority of my sleep conversations are with myself, my friends have a tendency to stumble into my dream babbling world. And I have full-blown conversations with them. That I don't remember. In person, the conversations are ridiculous and usually go something like this:
Me(asleep, of course): " ..Hmm?"
Friend: "What?"
Me: "Sssssorry."
Friend: "What are you talking about?"
Me: "I couldn't get one because the dinosaur came."
Friend: "One what?"
Me: "Dress."
Friend: "What dress?"
Me: "Already told you!"
Friend: "What the hell are you talking about?"
Me: "What?"
Friend: "Are you awake?"
Me: "Mmhmm...."(annnd gone).
But my cell phone, and the fact that I have mad sleep talking skills, has taken this issue to a new level. Something about being on the phone transforms my subconscious mind into a coherent-conversation machine. People call me during the night or while I'm napping and I manage not only to pick up, but I stay on the phone with them and blabber away. Apparently these exchanges give me plenty of time to do and say some nifty things. That I never remember. Allow me to elaborate.
Not too long ago, I unwittingly blew off my friend Iz one morning. What? Exactly. Apparently, she had called the previous night, and I made plans with her and told her I'd call in the morning. I had no memory of this. At all. I didn't even remember hearing the phone ring. Try explaining to an already annoyed friend that you don't even remember talking to her because you were asleep. You just sound like an asshole. Awesome.
But my sleep rambling doesn't just affect people. I also seem to have developed a knack for scolding my pets while I sleep. It's great. To make myself feel better about it, I like to think it keeps them on their toes. I'm sure that they love it. During a nap on the couch, I sat straight up, yelled at my dog, and then laid back down. The poor dog had been innocently sleeping between me and Iz, and I scared the crap out of them both. Because I'm cool like that. I've apparently also sat up in the middle of the night to hiss at my sister's cat. To my credit, he was scratching my dresser when that happened. It was self defense.
Despite incidents like these, I've found comfort in the fact that I am not alone in my oddity. My college roommate, Blondie, has had her share of sleep talking madness too. In fact, I think she may have had the ULTIMATE sleep talker experience. She had - wait for it - a sleep conversation with her fiance's* sleeping roommate. EPIC. When I heard that, I just about died. WHO DOES THAT?! I didn't even know that kind of thing was possible. Kudos, dear friend. You make me seem normal.
*also known as Biance. Because he is B's fiance. Clever, I know.
How does this happen? Because I don't just mumble incoherently while I sleep. While the vast majority of my sleep conversations are with myself, my friends have a tendency to stumble into my dream babbling world. And I have full-blown conversations with them. That I don't remember. In person, the conversations are ridiculous and usually go something like this:
Me(asleep, of course): " ..Hmm?"
Friend: "What?"
Me: "Sssssorry."
Friend: "What are you talking about?"
Me: "I couldn't get one because the dinosaur came."
Friend: "One what?"
Me: "Dress."
Friend: "What dress?"
Me: "Already told you!"
Friend: "What the hell are you talking about?"
Me: "What?"
Friend: "Are you awake?"
Me: "Mmhmm...."(annnd gone).
But my cell phone, and the fact that I have mad sleep talking skills, has taken this issue to a new level. Something about being on the phone transforms my subconscious mind into a coherent-conversation machine. People call me during the night or while I'm napping and I manage not only to pick up, but I stay on the phone with them and blabber away. Apparently these exchanges give me plenty of time to do and say some nifty things. That I never remember. Allow me to elaborate.
Not too long ago, I unwittingly blew off my friend Iz one morning. What? Exactly. Apparently, she had called the previous night, and I made plans with her and told her I'd call in the morning. I had no memory of this. At all. I didn't even remember hearing the phone ring. Try explaining to an already annoyed friend that you don't even remember talking to her because you were asleep. You just sound like an asshole. Awesome.
But my sleep rambling doesn't just affect people. I also seem to have developed a knack for scolding my pets while I sleep. It's great. To make myself feel better about it, I like to think it keeps them on their toes. I'm sure that they love it. During a nap on the couch, I sat straight up, yelled at my dog, and then laid back down. The poor dog had been innocently sleeping between me and Iz, and I scared the crap out of them both. Because I'm cool like that. I've apparently also sat up in the middle of the night to hiss at my sister's cat. To my credit, he was scratching my dresser when that happened. It was self defense.
Despite incidents like these, I've found comfort in the fact that I am not alone in my oddity. My college roommate, Blondie, has had her share of sleep talking madness too. In fact, I think she may have had the ULTIMATE sleep talker experience. She had - wait for it - a sleep conversation with her fiance's* sleeping roommate. EPIC. When I heard that, I just about died. WHO DOES THAT?! I didn't even know that kind of thing was possible. Kudos, dear friend. You make me seem normal.
*also known as Biance. Because he is B's fiance. Clever, I know.
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