kokopellinelli: (Default)
I dreamt last night that I was watching the movie Xanadu. This might not be so unusual except I've never seen Xanadu and had no idea what it was about, and, after reading the blurb on imdb, it's not the movie I watched after all.

I know that's confusing, but bear with me.

All I'd heard about Xanadu was "It was made a long time ago and it has something to do with roller skates." My brain translated that into "It was made in the 60s and involves teenagers and zombies." Okay, then.

At the start of my dream, I was going to watch the movie, but as soon as it started, I was actually IN the movie and it wasn't a movie any more but reality. There were a bunch of teenagers in a huge abandoned house (or rather, a bunch of 20-somethings playing teenagers) and we were having a party.

Somehow, we all split off into smaller groups of 2 or 3 and I wandered off my myself (NEVER DO THAT IN A HORROR MOVIE). People started being found broken in half and stuffed in chests. The house was quiet. I came across a girl with long brown hair who introduced herself as Megan. We started chatting and became friendly. At one point, we were in the bathroom, talking and fixing our hair in the mirror. We'd left the bathroom door open.

One of the other houseguests, a girl, suddenly danced into view across the room outside the bathroom door. I say "danced," but it was really a gruesome parody of a dance; she looked like a huge puppet. Her arms were up and her legs were flailing, her head was lolling back on her neck. There was no music.

I stared at her, disconcerted, and Megan turned around and looked at her too. The dancing girl started coming closer, and Megan turned back to look in the mirror. She screamed.

Reflected in the mirror, the girl wasn't a girl, but a woman in her 40s. Her eyes were milky and she was staring at us. Megan whispered, "Mom?"

Megan had explained to me that her mom had died a couple weeks before. She spun around and asked the dancing girl, "Who are you?"

The girl stepped into the shower and turned on the water. It beat down upon her hair and face and she said, "Megan dear, I'm your mommy! See how young..." she tossed her hair "...and beautiful I am now?"

"You're not my mom!" Megan exclaimed. I don't know where I was for all this...presumably huddled under the counter in a fetal position.

"Of course I am. In the hospital, I drank her blood. Now we think with the same brain!"

At this point in the dream, I said, "THIS MOVIE IS RIDICULOUS."

Megan tried to leave the bathroom, but there were two zombies in suits in the room. They were on the other side of the room and didn't seem to be moving very fast. Truth be told, I was more freaked out about the dancing girl, even if I thought her claim of being able to share a brain after drinking someone's blood was bogus.

About that time, I had to pee, so I woke up. I was a little disappointed that there weren't any rollerskates in my dream.
kokopellinelli: (Default)
Charley came to stay with me Saturday night and I just dropped him off at the bus stop a while ago. Yesterday, we drove to the coast, despite the damp, chilly weather. Lincoln City has a nice sandy beach that's ideal for walking and finding shells and stuff.

I took off my shoes (as it's against my personal religion to visit the Oregon coast and not dabble my toes in the surf) and for the rest of our walk, my feet were numb. It was a small price to pay.

After our walk, we made our way back to the parking lot and then stood, looking over the sand, where 5 people were attempting to get one monster inflatable kite off the ground. There was a motorhome behind us, and I glanced over my shoulder. The writing on the front said "Assflounder."

I do a double take. Surely it can't say ASSflounder. Has to say something else.

It does say something else. It says "Assfinder."

I do another take. Surely it can't say ASSfinder. It has to say something else.

...No. No, indeed, it DOES say Assfinder.

I point it out to Charley. He wonders if it would be weird if he tried to get a picture of it with his cell phone. I say yes, it would be weird, especially since I see someone changing their clothes in the back.

So we settled for sneaking glances over our shoulders at the Assfinder, otherwise looking so innocuous. A man came out from the back and sat in the driver's seat. A woman came out and sat in the passenger seat. They looked to be in their late 40s/early 50s, wholesome and fresh-faced.

"Do you...think they KNOW?" asked Charley.

"I...don't know. They would have to, right?"

The couple saw us staring and grinned, as big as could be, and they waved at us as they drove away.

"Oh, yeah. They know," said my brother. As the motorhome's hind end swung towards us, we saw that, on the back, it said "Pathfinder." Indeed, motorhome people. Indeed.
kokopellinelli: (Default)
My first year of college (1999-2000) I went to Hawaii with my mom and brother for spring break. One day, as I waded through the surf, I lost my balance and fell. My left hand landed on a small bed of coral and I got a chip of the stuff embedded in my palm, in the pad of flesh right under my pinkie.

After it healed, I could still feel it under my skin (CRAAAAAAAWLING IN MY SKIN) and could, like, move it around by pressing on it. (Keely: EWWWW! Let me touch it!")

Gradually, it grew smaller and small, until I could no longer feel it anymore. I assumed it had either traveled deeper into my hand and grafted itself to my bone structure, or it had been absorbed into my bloodstream. Either way, I fully expected to awaken one morning with some sort of coral-related superpower*.

Anyway, that was several years ago and I have yet to discover anything about myself that could be termed a superpower.

When I woke up this morning, I noticed a tender spot on my palm. Rubbing my thumb over it, my eyes widened as I felt the unmistakable little bump, rolling around under my skin. That's right...it's back. It's a bit tender yet, and seems smaller than it used to be. I have no idea why it decided to come back, after all this time.

Well, okay. I do have an IDEA...yesterday, I opened a newly-bought jar of bleu cheese to go on my salad. Damn thing was stubborn. It took me about 10 minutes to get the lid off. Maybe all that twisting and turning and pulling I did knocked my little friend loose from whatever piece of bone it had decided to grab onto.

If you, in the next couple weeks, read any news stories about a less-than-exciting new superhero bounding around Alaska, encasing things in exoskeletons, you can bet it's me (just don't tell anyone...a superhero's gotta have a secret identity, after all). If you, in the next couple weeks, read any news stories about someone being admitted to a hospital for coral-poisoning, you can bet it's me. Either way, I could be famous.

*[livejournal.com profile] getting_weary suggested growing an impenetrable exoskeleton, and I replied that I thought being able to shoot millions of microorganisms out my fingers at enemies would be a nice weapon. When she asked what sort of damage they could do, the only thing I could come up with was, if the bad guy would be kind enough to stand very still for a couple hundred years, maybe the microorganisms would build up a colony around him, thus encasing him in coral forever! But somehow, that scenario doesn't seem too likely.
kokopellinelli: (Pink Baby Cthulhu)
I've been meaning to mini-rant about a few things at work that bug me. Yes, it's about customers. Again.

Item 1: In my announcements at the beginning of the trip, I do say that the doors on this particular boat are tricky; some slide open and some push open. I even say, "If you're pulling and pulling on a door, trying to get it to slide, and it doesn't...try pushing on it, because that's been known to work."

So, with that information in mind, when you go to the door by the galley, and you want to get outside, and you are pulling on the door to get it to slide, and it's not sliding...what are your other choices?

A. Pull on it some more.
B. Fiddle with the lock.
C. Stand there and stare at it blankly (straight at the sign above the handle that says "push").
D. Walk away, after deciding you didn't need to get outside to use the head after all.
E. PUSH ON THE BLOODY DOOR.

If you chose any option besides E, I think you've been on the boat before.

Now, sometimes the people who do this are Germans who know no English. That would explain why they didn't understand my announcement and why they couldn't read the sign. I don't know if doors work differently in Germany...maybe they don't have doors that push open. However, as for all the middle-aged Americans who do this, you'd think that by this point in their lives they'd know how to operate a door.

Glacier Cruise? Alaska? Naw, no coat needed. )

Young people. So disrespectful. )

IT'S TIME FOR SOUP NOOOW. )

QUICK, EVERYONE GO 'EEEEE!' )

Whew. Okay, think I'm good for now. At least till someone else comes along and pisses me off.

October 2011

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