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••• Friday, October 29, 2004

One Thing's For Certain, Honey...
....love sticks. I think this guy gets the Kahonas of Steel award for his brass balls honesty. Not only did he admit to believing he could reuse the damn thing, but also that the article in question was too large to begin with.

They say God smiles on the meek. They don't say why.


This week's random musings....

  1. Blackout:: Long Island Ice Tea
  2. Platinum:: Blondie
  3. Leather and lace:: Bad wedding song.
  4. Court:: TV
  5. Mind your own business::Salt-n-Peppa
  6. Gambling::Proctoring
  7. Lily:: Of the Valley
  8. Evasive:: skater
  9. Turn-on:: remote
  10. Suspect:: smell

'Tis The Season
The following is a true story...(and I promise, it includes no animal husbandry tails.)

Almost immediately after I moved into my post-divorce home (11 years back), I started having scary dreams about a particular house in my new neighborhood. In one of the dreams I was called into the house by a hysterical teenage girl (I know. Redundant). She repeated over and over "You have to look at it."

I was very scared and did not know this girl from Adam's cat. But, for whatever reason, I had to go in. It seemed like it was part of my job or something.

In the house were dozens of crying people. I asked these strangers what was going on, but no one would say. Finally the teenager grabbed my arm and pulled me to the door of the living room. Before we went in, she said, again, "You have to look at it." I begged her to tell me what it was, but she just pulled me into the room, as I closed my eyes.

I stood in the room with my eyes closed, hearing her over and over, "You have to look at it." I opened my eyes to look at it. A man in a recliner. Dead. Wearing pajamas. Next to the chair, on the floor, is a revolver.

"That's dad." the girl said. I screamed myself awake.

Okay. I moved into my new house in June and the dreams began immediately. That August, my brother came to town from California and stayed with me. We were in the car together and happened to go past the scary house. Without my having told him anything about my nightmares, he pointed to the house and said "I went to high school with a girl who used to lived there. Her dad was an FBI agent...committed suicide....in that very house. Blew his brains out in the living room. While his family slept."

True Story.
# posted by Marcia @ 7:42 AM


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