Squishing About in My Brain

Archive for November 2010

from flagger central

I dreamt I was flying.

First I had a helicopter-car, but it was dented and the wheels had fallen off, and I didn’t know how to fly it and it had no gas. I asked for help, but no one could, or would. I was trying to get home from an outdoor holiday celebration of some sort, and couldn’t find my friends, Shelia and Jack, and was trying to get away before an ex showed up…it was the ex who had trashed the tires, I believe. And some upwardly mobile lesbian was camping out in my copter-car, so I had to get  it away from her—not sure how that happened, but then I was flying it by jumping off trees (didn’t work) and buildings to jump start it.

Then it morphed, and I was a young boy who could fly with special fabric clutched in his hands, and I was jumping off expensive houses and flyyyyyying.

Then it morphed and I was a Harry Potter/Daniel Radcliffe, or a lookalike. I was him and I flew away out of a fancy cliff top restaurant. Just took a run from the raised maitre-d desk and out the floor to ceiling windows (which should not have opened at all.)

Then I was myself, and I could fly with fabric rubberbanded to my hands, and I was constantly taking off from stranger’s roofs and flying out to sea. And then I morphed and was other people, most memorably Kristin Chenowith, and ANYONE could fly, I think, and she/I would just kick open tall windows and fly away into the air and over the ocean and convinced her lover (who was a geeky, recognizable character actor who i will try to come back and make note of when I can recall his actual name) …and we convinced him to fly out of a dinner party we were having, just leaving our guests and flying together, gliding away; kicking open high,  tall windows after climbing on furniture to get to them, and just gliding away together over the sea as the sun set.

It seems that any lightweight material would work; As Harry/Daniel, any fabric would work at all, but by the end, with Kristin, for example, it was gorgeously colored sunset-reds silky stuff.

The magic seemed to be in the rubber band configuration in each case. THEY had to be wrapped and clutched in your fist correctly, and then it was easy. You just WENT. You had to flap the fabric a few times and then just gliiiiiiiiide.

The ocean was always the destination—even in the first campout-holiday celebration part…that person flew over the town, toward the ocean, but ended up staying inland and swooping a swimming complex, where my daughter was happily swimming, but my character self (who was male at the time) wanted the ocean, not any old water at hand.

No, that isn’t right—the ocean was never the actual destination…but each time the flying took place over the ocean, on the way TO the destination, be it “home”, out to sea, or an unknown (to dreaming me)  island destination I couldn’t see from my takeoff point.

After Kristin, I suddenly woke up and saw that the sky was light and, muddled and forgetting I had gone to sleep at 1 p.m., I thought I had overslept and missed my 4 a.m. alarm and started to freak out…but it is 4:44 P.M. instead. I get to go back to bed in 4 hours.

It is fading, but it was the most peaceful, beautiful dream I have had in ages, despite occasional feelings of sadness in some plot moments. That all went away, because I could FLY.

I miss my dream.


So, today while I was restocking the Trojan For Her Pleasure© condoms,

Cuz it should be alll about her pleasure, dudes.

the seven-pack of preggo tests (WTF?! Seriously?! Really?…um, well…okay. Some shrink somewhere should be makin’ buck on the people who need THAT in bulk),


and the Monistat 3© Combo Pack


—which are all, conveniently, located in the same aisle together, to accomodate those mistakes you plan to make, the ones you already made, and the ones you did not learn from and will be making again—I was having some thoughts. Besides wondering about the above three items, I was thinking random retaily thoughts, seeing as “The Season is upon us” (even though I think it is too early for that particular season to be upon us the least bit).

Here’s a little list for you: WHAT I WAS THINKING:

*Dear Grandma whose six year old granddaughter desperately wanted a $35 Bakugan Red Dragon set: I meant it when I said I think she is the coolest. And, thank YOU for saying I just made her Christmas by finding it for you. You’re a good granny. And you had a good attitude. Feel free to come visit me again when it is birthday time. I’d love to rock her little gifting world again. And I hope it is in the action figure aisle.

* Do you suppose those people whose voices are ALWAYS screeching, loud, and strident walk around feeling like they are invisible and need to constantly speak this way in order to feel seen and heard? It’s annoying as hell, especially in the wee hours of the morning, and I think the only way I can stop from hacking such folks to death is by believing that they are so deeply damaged that they HAVE to do it to stop themselves from killing themselves. And I do not want to be responsible for helping them with their self-esteem issues, so I may just have to believe this and see them through a gaze of  shiny-eyed pity. Because, y’know,  I do not particularly want to go to jail, either.

*When people are shopping and looking for something, you can tell if they do NOT want your help (even if they need it), by their noted refusal to make any eye contact with you. I am required to greet guests and ask, “Can I help you find something?” (which I cannot seem to do without an endearing, slightly giddy, lightly Southern accent). It is a job requirement. But man, oh man, sometimes I have to be glad humans have not yet evolved into beings with death-ray eyes. So, sometimes (not in line with company policy, I admit), I choose to just say good morning. People are less likely to try to shishkabob you with their eye-rays if you just say that. Most of the time, anyway. And if they WANT help, they will then ask me. (Happens all the time, I swear.) Sorry, retail-chain I work for–I have to follow my intuition with people, even if it means our score drops a point because of me. Besides–I still get most of them greeted and assisted and out the door happily, regardless.

*Dude. I am so clumsy today. I single-handedly created three dented cans in the market aisle this morning. But I DID then take them to the back room to be thrown away, as protocol dictates. Seems a terrible waste of perfectly good pineapple chunks though. I woulda had ’em for lunch.

*Why do people look at me strangely when I finish off a two liter of Mountain Dew in less than a full workday? Do they not understand I have not had pop in two days? Did they not wonder why I could barely fricking move, or why I was not smiling, or why I had to concentrate so hard on scanning bar codes, or why I kept dropping crap all day? Don’t judge me, you freaks. Caffeine and sugar are all that keep me able to work from  4 a.m. to noon-thirty or later (like today’s ten hour day) without ripping any of you apart…and that’s even when I LIKE you. Seriously–you do not want to see how it could go, was the situation not taken care of with alacrity. That two liter may have just saved your lives. Seriously.

* I colored the most beautiful turkey picture at work, and if I do not win our contest, I will be very upset. I have a design degree, people—honor me accordingly. If you had given me any glitter to use, it woulda been a slamfuckingdunk.

* Things you should not say during The Season, in a retail store:

  • “Are you fucking kidding me, lady? Not even the fucking President can get that toy this year. No fucking way are YOU getting it.”
  • “Then GO to another store! I am not threatened by the possibility of losing your $34.99 sale, no matter HOW much you berate me in public… jackass.”
  • “Stop yelling, or I will KEEEEEL YOU with this Harry Potter Lego Set! I mean it!”
  • “What? The MHM store was dissin’ us? Well, them biatches don’t know SHIT.  Just cuz THEY ain’t got any on the shelf and never have, don’t mean WE ain’t never had em! Did they come to our store and look?! Huh? NO. Damn crackers.”
  • “Lady, if you do not make your child get off the side of the cart right now, I will fucking ram you with a pallet of merch to make the point. ONE of you is going home in a body cast. You choose. Or, alternatively, YOU could parent that kid and PUT THEM IN THE SEAT!”
  • “Dude! WHY IS THERE A PIECE OF POO ON THE FLOOR IN THE ENTRYWAY TO THE CAN?!” (Actually saw this today, I shit you not. *snicker*)
  • “Well, this store doesn’t carry the conditioner I want, either, but ya don’t hear ME having a goddamn hissy in every aisle of the store so that EVERY person in the tri-state area knows of my complete displeasure.”
  • “Buy the Hershey’s Candy Cane Kisses…they are totally Christmas CRACK!” (Although I WILL probably say this at some point, to someone. Speaking of which, this year the breeeelyunt company has put out a “BIG BAG” of said crack for holiday purchase. I cannot decide if they love me, are trying to kill me dead, or some mix of the two. These possiblilties will in no way limit me using my purchasing power to make my approval of said marketing brilliance known.)



  • And, the most important not to ever say in a retail setting: “Seriously…shut the fuck up.”

So, just to be clear…I HAVE NOT SAID ANY OF THESE THINGS. EVER. And probably will never say them in said setting.  But I DID think them all. And giggled (mostly to myself) as I thought them. Yes, at work. I figure I just look like a cheerful little retail elf, ready to help and spread joy.

That is all my mind vomit for today…go about your business…talk amongst yourselves.


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