Off Off Damn Spot and other madness

I had a fabulous dream
last night
although not particularly a good one

it was mighty interesting

freud would have a field day

it pretty much hit on all the major themes

in its own bizarre fashion

and while I do not remember it well enough
to expound upon it here
flashes of its visions haunt my waking hours

although
far more important
is the residual memory
of how it made me feel

my subconcious appears to be acting up again
and while
like most of my existence
it is usually interesting
it is rarely
if ever comfortable

of course
comfort is the headiest of drugs
thought to be a right by the pampered
yearned for by the weak and suffering
and scorned by those who possess it
should they have the slightest inclination
to thought

I would not wish an interesting life on the least of my enemies

strange days

nothing particularly
good or bad just strange

I got my phone bill today

apparently instead of charging
my international calls at nine cents a minute
as I had agreed
they charged them at 1.84 a minute

and considering I spent
five hours on the phone
to england during that billing cycle

you can imagine the shock
I received upon opening the bill

after the requisite
forty five minute hold time
waiting to speak to a representative
during which
I became increasingly confident
about how much they value my call

after all they made a point of interrupting
the insipid elevator music every eleven seconds
to tell me so
in that most vapid sing song voice

and if they go through the trouble
to do all that
surely they must

but it was resolved in the end
and my phone bill was reduced
something by around four hundred dollars
which I suppose is worth an hour of my time
[barely]

It looks tomorrow will have another
prospective roommate coming to look at my place
this would be the third to do so
and it appears that my apartment
only appeals to females
should they be named

Eva

which is most peculiar and amusing
for an entirely different reason

I also received an email
from a woman I dated in Brazil
[yes yes that woman]
[you all know and love]

entirely in portuguese
which if you recall
my proficiency is only slightly below
the

"danger to self and others"

level of competency

the best I can tell
it is a joke

something along the lines of
male female communications

you know the ones

what a woman means when she says....
what a man means when he says...

I suppose it had its intended effect
even if for dramatically different reason
because it did in fact amuse me

in other news
am I the only one
who finds pop up ads
advertising loudly

"want to stop pop up ads"

the height of amusement

and lastly
a wire transfer which I had request
is lost in never never land
it will be found of course
it is just a matter of when

good thing I can always resort
to pimping my ass in the street
if the money gets tight
*evil grin*

And that's the news from lake wobegon

something explained?

I think I might have a clue
where my general lack of sentimentality
especially with regards to material objects
comes from

so anyway
let me explain

I am cleaning around the house
well more sorting and arranging really

[yeah buff, I know]
[what is the world coming to]
[when a straight guy is cleaning his own place]
[*evil grin*]

and I come across a box of stuff
labelled goodwill

apparently my mother saw fit
while visiting to determine a pile of my possessions
as no longer worth owning

for the most part
I would say she was right

with the exception of two items

a red and black wool rug from bolivia
and
a doll, not a fru-fru girly doll
but one of those from the seventies
when someone got the great idea to make them more realistic
its eyes move, it has don king hair
and
not only it is anatomically correct
but can take a leak with the best of them

to be honest, I hadn't seen it for years
didn't really have any recollection of it
but
when I was going through my stuff
in seattle my sister pointed it out
and informed me that it was one of my first toys
so
since my mother gave my favorite toy
from my young childhood to goodwill years ago
[a stuffed tigger of course]
I figured maybe I should keep it

the rug of course
is probably even a more telling sign

it was a gift
from none other than
my dear mother about two years ago

granted I never liked it much
but
it was made by the hard working people
of some native tribe from bolivia
which was demonstrated by the little imperfections
in the design

whoever came up with this idea
btw was fucking brilliant

we can remarket shoddily made goods
as "unique work of local artisans"
and charge three times as much

of course my mother bought it
while she was in south america
so I doubt she was paying pier one prices

hell she probably spent four hours
talking to the poor fellow who made it
she is like that
she cant just pass through some remote village shithole
and buy a few things and move on
no
she has to learn the entire life story
of the person making whatever she is buying
how it was made....

well you get the idea
of course the funny thing
is any profit margin the fellow might have made
selling her the item
was probably negated
by the amount of time wasted talking to her

so I call her up
wanting to make sure
before taking the stuff to goodwill

and ask her if she meant
for the rug to go to goodwill
reminding her that it was a gift from her

her response

"yeah I know, I just decided I don't much like it anymore"

*sigh*


family can be a strange strange thing some times