Squirrel Cake?

So yet another crazy dream starring Hugh Jackman. His little sister was getting married, and she put him in charge of the cake. He asked me to go with him for the tastings and help him out, so I did. All the cakes were gorgeous and delicious, but he thought they were all crap. He finally admitted that he doesn't like cake, so it didn't really get anywhere.

Meanwhile, we were accompanied by his pet squirrel. Said pet was adorable until he suddenly lurched at my foot (I was wearing flip flops) and sunk his teeth and claws into it. Hugh was unable to get the squirrel off my foot, so he told me a hot bath would make me feel better. I thought he was crazy, but he said "trust me". So I got into the bath and after a minute or two, the squirrel drowned and let go of my foot. Hugh came in and fished it out and said "See? All bettah!" with his usual Hugh grin.

Life is weird.

Feeling Like an Impostor

I went to my first board meeting last night. I still have no idea who nominated me, or why. Anyway, they were talking about things like endowment funds, consulting contracts, etc., and I just kind of wondered what I was doing there. It's not that I'm not useful. I can write jokes, knit all kinds of things, and pour stuff into a bottle without using a funnel. Perhaps one of these skills will come in handy at one or two meetings. I'm figuring that this will be good practice in case I ever become an adult. Oh, and did I mention that I have a vote on every decision? Wish us luck.

Plumbing

When your husband is under the sink at 11 at night, trying to fix it, and mumbles to himself "aw this is gonna be expensive", that can't be good.

And you know how the Drano label says to rinse immediately if you get it on your skin? Yeah, do that, even if your husband finds it "cool" that your flesh is dissolving in a weird manner.

Holy Macaroni

I saw this in the supermarket. When the Hebrews were wandering through the desert and ran out of food, Moses told them to put out their baskets, and God made baked ziti fall from the skies. I'm noting the "complete idiot" part of the title. Hmm...

It's a Scam!

I feel that I should let the world know that there is no such thing as prune juice. The whole point of prunes is that they have no juice. If they did, they'd be plums. So why isn't it called "plum juice"? I think it's actually prunes that are ground to dust, then mixed with water. It really should be called "prune suspension". Doesn't the FDA check this stuff?

Of course, I don't drink prune juice, so whatevs yo, but I thought I'd perform this public service.

Another Special Dream!

Last night I dreamed that Craig Ferguson paid me big bucks to stay home and tell my cat jokes all day. The cat would laugh and tell me jokes back. It was awesome. Then one day I overheard my grandmother speaking to my mother. She said "That girl is not quite right". She said I imagined my cat telling me jokes, and that if I kept this up, I would have no future except in a mental institution. My mom just shrugged.

I was concerned, so I asked Craig, "What if my cat isn't really telling me jokes? What if I'm just imagining it?" He said he didn't give a shit, because either way it was hilarious. I asked him if he knew Lizzy. He said no, and I was shocked. Then Craig and I made out on a bus on the way to a giant puppet parade in Soho.

WTF? Even I'm shaking my head at this one.

Poor Robin

My Children Appreciate Me

What I Get Up to in My Sleep

Last night, I dreamed that my dear friend and fellow Janmom, Cathy, was directing a musical at some snooty boarding school. It was some kind of weird version of "Bye Bye Birdie". She hired me for some reason or other. I was kind of a consultant, and was supposed to be there in case anything blew up. Anyway, it starred Hugh Jackman and Sutton Foster. I cannot stand Sutton Foster, although I'm sure she's a lovely person. She cannot act her way out of a paper bag, and has one of those faces. It was driving me batshit, so Cathy, friend to the end, canned her. Unfortunately, she recast the role with Terri Hatcher. I just decided to bite the bullet, and we resumed rehearsals.

For some reason, the cast brought their own costumes. In act one, Hugh was in a very nicely tailored grey suit. By act two, it degenerated to this:

One afternoon during lunch break, I was sitting in the cafeteria enjoying something or other with lettuce on wheat, and gazing at a moving picture ala Hogwarts. It was a bucolic scene with rambling wildlife. Hugh was at the table next to mine reading his director's notes. He gave a little snort and read out loud, "Keep the nice grey suit, because it makes you look smokin' hot. (Yes, Cathy wrote that) Get rid of the floods. This is per Rima, who should know, because she looks at you like 17, 563 times a day." He looked at me and said "17, 563 times a day?" I said no, but I have some friends who do. He said "Really? Who?" I mentioned that Kristin has access to various photo sites that are not open to the general public. He was intrigued and asked if she could get him in and I said I was sure they could work something out. Then I said "Of course, there's Lizzy. She has what, 350 pictures of the two of you together?" He said "You know Lizzy??? Wait, of course you do. EVERYBODY knows Lizzy. It's part of what makes her Lizzy!" (He really does know Lizzy)

So then I showed him the above photo on my laptop and said "I just thank the gods that you didn't bring the Mickey Mouse shoes. Look at that. That's a guy who needs a 'kick me' sign on his back". He scrunched up his face and said he wanted to fill his car with shaving cream, and that he didn't realize that outfit was so incredibly dorky. He said his friend designed it. I said that was pretty obvious and that I didn't care if his grandma made it for him, ditch it. So he said okay.

Then he said that he had heard of a charity that the students were involved in, and did I know anything about it. I told him yes, they find books that don't have any pictures of mustaches or ducks, and they draw them in. He is totally into charity and causes, so he got all excited. He said "Do you think I could talk to Cathy about getting the whole cast and crew involved?" I said "I think that's what she's doing right now. Let's go see." So we went up to her office, and indeed she had a stack of books that she was modifying. Hugh and I each grabbed a pen and started going through pages, drawing in mustaches and ducks where there were none before. Cathy had gone through "Make Way for Ducklings", and put mustaches on all the ducks.

That was it. Then I woke up.

The ABC Afterschool Special

In the effort to get the youngest sprog into his own room, last night I decided that I would sleep with him in his big bed. He agreed to that, and we snuggled up happily together and fell asleep. I promised I'd stay there all night.

Shortly thereafter, my back and hips reminded me that I cannot sleep on wood slats. I kept waking up from the pain. At 6:30am I decided I couldn't take it anymore and needed to go back to my foam-topped mattress. Getting up was hard. Getting down the ladder was harder. I knew that he would flip his shit if he woke up in the morning and I wasn't there, so I tried to wake him, and get him to come with me, but no success. I sent my husband in to get him. He managed to wake the kid, who screamed, "WHERE IS MOMMY!!! WHY DID SHE LEAVE?!"

I laughed so hard. He didn't appreciate that. I'm still kinda giggling.