Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Ralph the Talking Squirrel

2003-08-20
I was rocking out to Blondie this morning in my car when I checked my face in the mirror. I was having my own little Debbie Harry moment. I had used to different colors of eyeliner. Thank God I am used to my little insane make up moments in the morning and had a Q-Tip to wipe the crap off. Why do I bother with eye makeup in the morning? It all slides off my face before anyone gets here anyway. And I think I have proven that I am too out of it in the morning to handle a sharp object pointing towards my eye.

So, Ann Coulter is a crazy bitch isn�t she? She was on some political talk show yesterday talking about how people who are involved in �Christian marriages� have more orgasms and more joyful sex than those who are in deviant relationships. This confused me; does this mean that Jews can�t have joyful sex? Haven�t they suffered enough? Plus, J and I spent a while trying to decide if we are in a Christian marriage. A Unitarian minister married us but we don�t go to services and J was never even baptized (I was). And to be honest the sex isn�t any more joyful now that we are married�it�s pretty much the same.

Had a surprisingly good talk with Dallas, my boss, yesterday. Maybe I will survive here a little longer after all.

Had a dream last night that I drove my car into this house. The house was owned by this little squirrel that kept asking me what kind of carpet I had in my house. After I had figured out that the squirrel was not hurt and his house wasn�t really damaged I called to have my husband come pick me up. When he got there the squirrel (who was named Ralph) tried to sell us some carpet. We drove away.

I couldn�t figure out what was bothering me with this dream until I was on the bus this morning�my husband in my dream was not my husband but this boy I knew in high school. I felt much better after figuring this out.

You know, because the rest of the dream about a talking squirrel selling carpet was totally normal.

7:11 a.m. :: comment ::
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