We celebrated a couple of friends’ birthdays this evening at Benihana, and when our waitress came around to take drink orders, Marc asked for a Sprite and a water. Surprisingly, the waitress seemed a little confused by his request. We thought that we had it all straightened out when the waitress held up two fingers, which we presumed meant that she would bring out two glasses — one with Sprite and one with water. But lo and behold, when the drinks arrived, Marc looked surprised to see just one glass with a few meager bubbles floating around inside. He started giggling and said, “Honey, I think that she didn’t understand what I meant. I think she thought I meant Sprite and water in the same glass.” No way. I removed the cover from the straw and took a sip. Sure enough…Sprite and water. The best part was that she brought out several refills of this soda/water combo, and Marc didn’t say a word. He just continued to suck it down. Later, when I asked why he didn’t say anything or ask her for two separate drinks, he said that he couldn’t bring himself to do it because she was just so nice, and he kept picturing her back in the kitchen with the two hoses — one Sprite, one water — carefully being sure to get just the right proportions. Good thing he didn’t order OJ and Coca-cola.
The weather is turning…summer will be here before we know it. So I thought that there wasn’t a better way to celebrate the turn of the seasons than with a lovely photo, which speaks to the best parts of summer—bikinis and tomatoes! Check out the size of those things! Our friend John loved this photo when he happened upon it in the magazine holder of our car one day. I can’t recall why it was there, but I specifically remember him getting a huge kick out of it. So enjoy!—and don’t say I never gave you anything.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been an odd sleeper. I talk, no make that have conversations in my sleep. I often see people in our bedroom in the middle of the night (or wherever we happen to be sleeping—parents’ guest bedroom, hotels, etc.)—this has freaked Marc out more than once. And I also have the most vivid dreams, which I typically can relay in full detail to Marc or whomever will listen. In case you’re wondering, here are a few insights into how I dream: (1) I do dream in color; (2) I have experienced dreams both as an observer of myself and my activities and as my actual person…like through my own eyes; (3) I incorporate conversations/observations from just before bedtime into my dreams; and (4) I absolutely have recurring themes in my dreams, mainly in the following forms:
- Dirty bathrooms/toilets,
- My teeth falling out,
- Tornadoes, and
- Large facilities with smaller, compartmentalized rooms or spaces (think Shopping Malls, Hotels, Dormitories, and Parking Garages) where I’m running around and trying to find something or someone, escape from someone, or find safety. These particular facilities aren’t necessarily mazes in and of themselves, but they tend to end up feeling that way.
I also frequently transform into another person during my dreams and assign descriptions to people or places that don’t match their true identities in reality (for example…I often dream about being in my house, and in my dream I know that it’s my house, but it doesn’t really look the way my house does in real life). Make sense? Strange…I know.
So by now, you’re probably wondering what Stephen Colbert and his unknown addiction have to do with any of this at all. Rest assured; I’m getting to it. The dream I had last night was especially humorous, so I thought I would share it with all of you and invite a little dream interpretation input from the peanut gallery. Besides, what else are you doing today?
Here goes… I was in a mall shopping for a fancy party dress and ended up in a department store. As is typical for my dreams…the store was sprawling, and I couldn’t find the exact department that I needed to be in to find and purchase said fancy dress. Finally, I found several dresses and made my way to the fitting rooms to try them on. When I got to the fitting room, I noticed that it was in disarray (much like the dirty restrooms that often pop up in my dreams), and I had trouble finding a tidy, open dressing room. As I was waiting to try on the dresses, I suddenly transformed into Stephen Colbert, at which point I was actually Stephen Colbert and not just myself visualized into Stephen Colbert’s body. Then, as I sat on the little stool in the entry to the fitting rooms, it became apparent to me that I, as Stephen Colbert, had a methamphetamine and Darvocet habit. While I cannot speak to how meth is administered in real life, I can tell you that in my dream…you “used” the meth by inhaling the steam that came out of this smallish, green glass gadget that looked kind of like a votive candle holder. When my turn came up to try on the party dresses, (yes, I was still trying on the dresses even though I was now a man), I handed the little holder to Amy Poehler who in my dream was actually Meredith Grey (Ellen Pompeo) from Grey’s Anatomy. I told her to just hold it and not to do anything with it, but once I was in the fitting room, I discovered that she had indeed ignored my plea and used the device. So basically, my cover was blown, and the whole dream ended with Marc and a third person who was unidentifiable in my dream having an intervention in the actual fitting room stall and me curling up into a small ball while Marc held me and I admitted that I did, in fact, have a meth and Darvocet problem.
Where in the heck did THAT one come from? Your guess is as good as mine…and your interpretations are both welcomed and appreciated!
Troy has been begging me to upload this photo, so I thought I would finally oblige. So here it is…a little gem I came across while adding photographs to the Senior Celebration Day booklet for this upcoming Sunday. If you’re planning on attending Broadway this Sunday, act like you’ve never seen this picture before. If you’re not, well just enjoy a good laugh while checking out this awesome photo.
The actual caption says, “Dancing Cigarettes: Classmates entertain in the church’s upstairs.” Personally, I think there are too many hysterical aspects to this picture to list them all. But I will point out that I think it’s pretty hilarious that the gentleman in the front row appears to be so “entertained” by the performance that he actually seems to be looking down—like he’s reading a newspaper or something, or maybe he’s just checking out their totally rad color guard boots.
Okay, so the title was just for kicks, but Marc and I had a little fun yesterday coming up with the cartoon alter-egos of the American Idiot Top 8. I wanted to do an Idol post, but I knew that my analyses couldn’t touch those of the Running Peanut. So here is my contribution to today’s Idol chatter:
Blake Lewis a/k/a Johnny Bravo
Chris Richardson a/k/a Bobby from King of the Hill
Haley Scarnato a/k/a Daphne from Scooby Doo
Jordin Sparks a/k/a Minnie Mouse
LaKisha Jones a/k/a Tazmanian Devil’s Wife from the Looney Toons
Melinda Doolittle a/k/a Princess Fiona from Shrek
Phil Stacey a/k/a Stewie from The Family Guy
Sanjaya Malakar a/k/a Timon from The Lion King
You can totally see it, can’t you? Now realize, for all you Idol purists out there, that this is all strictly in fun. I actually do like a couple of the candidates…this was just too much fun to pass up!
At Broadway, the end of each service always reminds me a little of the final wrap of an SNL episode. You know, when the host comes back out, lets everyone know that it’s been a great show, and then waves farewell as the rest of the cast and crew meander around the set while ambling music drifts over from the band. If you go to Broadway (or have visited), you can probably understand what I mean. Chris plays the postlude, and those folks who don’t head out right away to fulfill their Sunday plans often stay in the pews chatting it up with their fellow “remainders.” Personally, I think that it’s during this time that some of the best conversations happen. And to top it off, almost everyone claps when Chris finishes the song—a gesture I especially enjoy, since we’re not much of a clapping church (not that there’s anything wrong with that, I suppose).
So after the service today, Marc and I were standing around in the side aisle—Marc talking with Jeffrey and his friend Grant, while I caught up with Troy. Due to my location, which physically planted me right in the middle of the two conversations going on at that second, I suddenly heard out of my left ear Marc laughing and saying, “Yeah…like two donuts at a pitch-in!” I quickly glanced sideways. “What in the world,” I thought. I noticed that Jeffrey looked confused, too, at the humor Marc found in his statement. Marc laughed and said again, “Like two donuts at a pitch-in, right? Isn’t that what you said?” Jeffrey thought for a second and then said, “NO! I said, ‘If there’s too much you have to pitch it!” The five of us cracked up when we realized Marc’s auditory mistake, but then we thought about it for a minute…what a great saying! For awhile, we bounced it around, determining what exactly such a phrase could mean. I told Troy that I thought it would describe the “well-suitedness” of two objects for one another. Kind of like two peas in a pod. Can’t you hear it? Marc and Karen….they’re just like two donuts in a pitch-in. But then I concluded that it didn’t make much sense that way. Marc had a totally different interpretation and explained that it should actually be used to describe something that wouldn’t really be missed. As when someone says that they need another cookie like they need another hole in their head. Regardless, I think Troy hit the nail on the head when he said that it was definitely a term that needs to be introduced into the vernacular.
So here is my charge to you, dear readers: Help us come up with a legitimate and viable definition for our new phrase! Like Two Donuts at a Pitch-in… Whatever could it mean? I can’t wait to find out!
Even after recently hearing a terrifying story of a man being dragged from his car and assaulted as a result of road rage, Marc still insists on a certain driving maneuver he no doubt considers charming. In some ways, I think that we can partially blame a neighbor who once encouraged Marc to continue use of the aforementioned tactic, but I think that he actually gets a kick out of it and needed little persuasion to perpetuate use of what we have now nicknamed “THE POINT.”
What amazes me most is The Point’s evolution throughout the past few years. At first, it was pretty simple. Traffic blunders by others were given a quick extension of both elbow and index finger resulting in a moderately offensive reprimand. I’ve noticed recently, though, that The Point has become a bit more extravagant. The days of the solo-point are behind us, replaced now with a Derek Zoolander-esque facial scrunch and a complete swivel of the torso for full effect. When the traffic gaffe is–in Marc’s view–especially heinous, the offender often gets the full on finger wag [recall the “tsk, tsk” or “I wouldn’t do that if I were you” motion delivered by your first grade teacher].
The Point is usually met with the now patented Mango Mitigation device, which is basically just my left hand shoving Marc’s arm back down onto the console. What strikes me as most intriguing about the whole pointing fiasco is the response that The Point gets from fellow drivers. You might think that in the whole scheme of things, having someone point at you might not be the worst thing, although I do specifically remember being told as a child that it is impolite to point. Just last Saturday, we were traveling up to Old Navy near the Fashion Mall and discovered that the traffic light was out by Maggiano’s. The intersection is a little confusing with functioning lights, but the absence of green-yellow-and-red instruction made things a little chaotic. We fully complied with the makeshift 4-way stop, but we noticed an enormous Dodge Ram truck to our right whose intention was to use his size to bully on through the light without waiting his turn. Entering the intersection, Marc graced the truck’s driver with an exceptionally saucy Point. What came next was quite impressive–remarkably, this particular gentleman displayed a traffic maneuver of his own…I think we’ll call it the One-half of a Peace Sign.