Sunday, February 28, 2010

Check your Head

During my (daily) vacuuming sessions, I think about stuff. My mind wanders. It's like meditation but without the annoying sense of personal failure. Things like band names.

Band names I've come up with: (and if you start a band with ANY of these names, I will totally know because my BFFIC - that's BFF in California - and I do this regularly and she has my back yo)

1. Kill the Angler Fish (it makes sense, trust me)
2. No Chemo for Crazy
3. Metastatic Anger

I know right? Why am I not busy starting a band! Because I can't sing. I have covered this before. Obviously I would be starting a hard rock/emo band. Clearly. What else would you have me do.

Also, I'll remember odd snippets of stuff. Nothing important, like, bills I might need to pay before incurring fees or nasty letters, no, but something like an Oprah episode I saw in 2003 when she interviewed some South American fashionista. Said SAF claimed that American women just don't put effort in and we walk around in sweat pants and stuff, etc etc blah blah blah.

I'm thinking, you know, Fashionista, don't irk me because I can unleash WAY more of my secret ninja skills wearing my yoga pants. And I have seen some sweet bedazzled sweat pants, so don't go hating on "lazy" Americans. I'll have you know that I use the power of accessories to offset my athletic wear. Whatever. I mean, the poncho came from South America right? How fancy is THAT thing? Jazz it up with some sequins, but at the end of the day, it's still a rug with a head-hole.

When I'm not musing about fictitious band names or old Oprah episodes, I'll wonder about plot lines in the story I'm working on. Then I realize I have to revamp, uh, most of the entire thing and I get tired and eat a Thin Mint. Stop judging me. Then I distract myself with some internet browsing. Red duvet cover, you will be mine...

And sometimes when I'm really REALLY deep in my own head, I'll trace a thought back to how I wound up there, a little something like this:

Why am I thinking about how I would be all embarrassed but secretly joyous to have my kids on kid-leashes? Oh yeah, it's because they ran away at the pizza place -again- and I had to pull them out from behind the counter-again. And then I remembered seeing a kid-leash and I was all judgey but SECRETLY envious of the parent holding the leash, like, you know, they've just given up and accepted it! And they won't lose their kids... so now I'm wondering if you can find colors to match your purse....

Also, I like to recount all the fun slang I know in other languages. It won't be on Jeopardy, but maybe, just maybe, if I ever get mugged in an alley in Germany (it could happen), I'll be able to tell them what to say to their mother. That's right, I'm hardcore in German. (Or maybe I just asked my friend's exchange student sometime back in 1994.)

I should make a list now; with all this important stuff going on in my head, I'm going to forget something. Like the gas bill. Again.

Comments, questions, what's going on in YOUR dome?

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