Sometimes I even forget if I asked the question, so I usually consider it a step up if I only forgot the answer.
Some people play Angry Birds*, other people fight the undead.
*I play Angry Birds too.
This is also a story about why I never got very far in high school Spanish.
Spanish class was particularly boring because I had particularly dull teacher.
She’d do this annoying thing where she’d lean right against the first row of desks and sway back and forth on her feet. (In the picture below she’s supposed to be rocking back and forth. Works on my preview, so I’m not sure why it isn’t showing up on the post, but you can click the image if you want to see it play.)
I actually started to feel seasick once when I sat too close to her, so I started sitting at the back of the class, despite having a reputation for being a good and attentive student. A few of my friends who were less interested in the school experience also sat back there. One friend, whom we’ll call Tina, was more of a daring character than me. After a week of especially boring conjugations, Tina brought in reading material for us.
It was Letters to Penthouse.
I had read a few sordid romance novels before, so I wasn’t a completely naive virgin, but these letters took it to another level.
And that is why I can never think about Spanish without thinking of some really strange and perverse stories involving tigers. So make sure you read your “stories” in a safe environment this Valentine’s Day or you may never be able to conjugate another verb again.
It started off as a typical dream. I was vacationing in pre-industrial Hawaii, as I often do in dreams, and I found out that I was supposed to go to a wedding. I was annoyed because I didn’t have anything to wear, but I made my way to town anyway to find something.
When I got to town though, I noticed a cloud of dust rising in the distance.
And then I knew, in the way that you only know in dreams, that the Riders were coming and they would kill anyone who wasn’t inside a store when they stormed into town.
I was now paralyzed with fear. Literally. My legs stopped working. Why do your legs always stop working in dreams? Anyway, the Riders were getting closer, so I had to drag myself into the nearest store.
I was down to the last crucial second when I finally reached the store and slammed the door. I thought I was safe, but I wasn’t.
I was in a store with the most hideous and tacky grass skirts I’d ever seen and I was supposed to choose one to wear to the wedding. One actually had LED lights on it.
Luckily though, I woke up. Some dreams are just too terrifying to finish.
There’s already products for surf and beach hair, but what I really want to figure out is how to get unicorn hair. It’s magic*.
*Trademark pending
On most nights, the Husband gets in bed before me. It’s only a few minutes until I hear him yell my name from the bedroom. This is because he’s just read my newest blog post and he thinks I don’t portray him accurately. Actually, there’s a pretty good chance that he’s yelling at me right now as you read this. He does steal the covers though.
