So I went out last night, obtained moderate drunkeness, and returned home around one in the morning. I prepared myself a heaping batch of tacos, and devoured them before getting some shut-eye. Tacos and alcohol are fuel for weird dreams, apparently.
One that I can remember involved Samira living in the same town as I, and we got together for a night of drunken good-times. I also lived in an apartment with walls made of nothing but glass, but save the psych eval's till the end, please.
In my dreams, Samira looks just like Mr Winky, only feminine and about eight feet tall. My pals were stunned. She would fade in and out of an animated state, and by animated I mean like a cartoon, not manic. She would drink straight from a huge jug of peach brandy, but none of this is the really disturbing part.
She had a pet rat that would not stop biting me, but she didn't care. She'd just cackle madly as I asked her to remove the rodent, which was about knee high and walked on it's hind-legs. It also wore a monacle; the sophisticated little *******.
Long story short, she invited her gang of cronies over and they smashed my glass house. The end.
This thread brought to you by my obvious Bahstahn envy and the letter "G". Later in the night I dreamt I had a dune buggy that would travel so fast that I would hang out the back of it with a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel, my feet flailing behind. I also dreamt of robbing a co-op.
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I always behave so badly in dreams.
I really am 8 feet tall, though, and you have divined that Mr Winky is, in fact, my passport photo.
Oh, and sorry about the rat. He gets affectionate when he drinks peach brandy.
I really am 8 feet tall, though, and you have divined that Mr Winky is, in fact, my passport photo.
Oh, and sorry about the rat. He gets affectionate when he drinks peach brandy.
In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.
Barkingturtle wrote:
In my dreams, Samira looks just like Mr Winky, only feminine
Did Mr. Winky have a nice rack?
Samira wrote:
Oh, and sorry about the rat. He gets affectionate when he drinks peach brandy.
I feel bad now, he was just acknowldeging my animal magnetism.
Jawbox wrote:
Did Mr. Winky have a nice rack?
Think Winky's head on Jessica Rabbit's body made eight feet tall. Wearing a trenchcoat over a frilly blouse, of course.
Quote:
Think Winky's head on Jessica Rabbit's body made eight feet tall. Wearing a trenchcoat over a frilly blouse, of course.
You've totally been peeking, you *******.
In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.
Barkingturtle wrote:
Jawbox wrote:
Did Mr. Winky have a nice rack?
Think Winky's head on Jessica Rabbit's body made eight feet tall. Wearing a trenchcoat over a frilly blouse, of course.
Good enough for me. Think Taco Bell tacos would work?
BarkingTurtle wrote:
Then I woke with a jolt and as I sat up in bed, pinned to my shirt was that very same monocle!
Maybe it wasn't a dream after all . . .
Maybe it wasn't a dream after all . . .
Dun-dun-dunnnn!
Sam, Im gonna send you some loose powder, just to help out with the redness youve got going on your nose. Im sure its from the peach brandy, but it will help.
Turtle, I believe this dream is the result of someone slipping a tab of acid in your beer, probably when you went to "go see a man about a mule."
You really should start a drunk blog. It'd probably be the only blog I ever read.
This is my drunk blog. See? I even misspelled monocle; only a drunk would do that.
As a follow-up, I spoke with my lesbianish drinking pal this morning and before I told her anything she started going on about how she had dreamt vividly last night and the recurring theme running throughout was that she was always being observed by a gorilla. Before she awoke she approached the gorilla and he was wearing blue jeans. That's one hip gorilla. I asked if Samira was there and she asked what the fu[red][/red]ck I was going on about.
Thanks, mysterious benefactor.
As a follow-up, I spoke with my lesbianish drinking pal this morning and before I told her anything she started going on about how she had dreamt vividly last night and the recurring theme running throughout was that she was always being observed by a gorilla. Before she awoke she approached the gorilla and he was wearing blue jeans. That's one hip gorilla. I asked if Samira was there and she asked what the fu[red][/red]ck I was going on about.
Red wrote:
Turtle, I believe this dream is the result of someone slipping a tab of acid in your beer,
Thanks, mysterious benefactor.
I shall meet with your lesbian friend and sing "Why Don't You Do Right?"
That should clear up the whole matter. Does she happen to play banjo?
That should clear up the whole matter. Does she happen to play banjo?
In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.
Samira wrote:
Does she happen to play banjo?
Unfortunately, no. She's a lipstick lesbian. I still think a good ol' fashioned revival could do alot for clarity, though.
Edited, Fri May 12 15:46:42 2006 by Barkingturtle
Barkingturtle wrote:
I spoke with my lesbianish drinking pal this morning
By "lesbianish" do you mean "will do a threeway with me and her girlfriend if I get them drunk enough"?
*******!
Barkingturtle wrote:
Unfortunately, no. She's a lipstick lesbian.
PM a brotha pics plz.
lipstick lesbian? I'm not familiar with that concept.
Some people are like slinkies, they aren't really good for anything, but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down the stairs.
Kakar the Vile wrote:
lipstick lesbian? I'm not familiar with that concept.
I tell ya, it's a great thing to have in a boozing compatriot. She's outwardly like any other fine young thing, but inside she longs to lick her sisters. It means she can flirt with the guys when we want some free drinks, and she can also wrap us in a cocoon of coeds who just want to experiment. We alternate between men giving us pitchers to sapphic delights. Then at the end of the night, when we're drunk and just need to press some flesh, it's all good, because she's hot like a straight girl, so I feel good, but when the sun comes up she's still gay, and there's no commitment.
Hope that cleared things up.
Yin is to yang as Lipstick Lesbian is to Man Hating ****
Barkingturtle wrote:
Kakar the Vile wrote:
lipstick lesbian? I'm not familiar with that concept.
I tell ya, it's a great thing to have in a boozing compatriot. She's outwardly like any other fine young thing, but inside she longs to lick her sisters. It means she can flirt with the guys when we want some free drinks, and she can also wrap us in a cocoon of coeds who just want to experiment. We alternate between men giving us pitchers to sapphic delights. Then at the end of the night, when we're drunk and just need to press some flesh, it's all good, because she's hot like a straight girl, so I feel good, but when the sun comes up she's still gay, and there's no commitment.
Hope that cleared things up.
So I dreamed that I did indeed have a knee-high monocled rat.
I hope you're happy now.
I hope you're happy now.
In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act.
I dreamed that I was on a bus and that I couldn't wake up enough to get off at any of the stops...like I was vaguely aware that the bus was stopping, and that I should get off, but I was just too tired and sleepy...
What would Freud say? I want to ***** my dad or something, right?
Nexa
What would Freud say? I want to ***** my dad or something, right?
Nexa
“It has always been the prerogative of children and half-wits to point out that the emperor has no clothes. But a half-wit remains a half-wit, and the emperor remains an emperor.â€
― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones
― Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 9: The Kindly Ones
Last night I dreamt that MY water broke, which I figured was a good enough reason to take my wife to the hospital.
We had the baby who turned out to be about 3 feet tall, wearing a monocle, and could talk.
He complained about the staff at the hospital, then went down to the cafeteria to get a snack. At that point, one of my dogs came in and alerted me to a food fight that was in progress at the hospital...I then woke up to a dog staring me in the face holding her food dish. It was time for breakfast.
Edited, Mon May 15 11:04:37 2006 by Frakkor
We had the baby who turned out to be about 3 feet tall, wearing a monocle, and could talk.
He complained about the staff at the hospital, then went down to the cafeteria to get a snack. At that point, one of my dogs came in and alerted me to a food fight that was in progress at the hospital...I then woke up to a dog staring me in the face holding her food dish. It was time for breakfast.
Edited, Mon May 15 11:04:37 2006 by Frakkor
Samira wrote:
So I dreamed that I did indeed have a knee-high monocled rat.
I hope you're happy now.
I hope you're happy now.
I know how disappointing reality is after a dream like that. I'm honestly sorry.
Last night I dreamt I was garage saling with Mother and a couple of professional wrastlers. The wrastlers picked a fight with a house full of gang-bangers who decided to chase Mother and I after they dispatched the behemoths. It was quite intense, as the baggy-jeaned teens sprinted after our auto like Robert Patrick in Terminator 2, which is to say really fu[red][/red]cking fast. Then a couple of my teeth fell out and I woke up.
Edited, Mon May 15 11:28:58 2006 by Barkingturtle
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