Archive | September, 2010

Who will buy my violets?

29 Sep


You haunt my dreams

24 Sep

You haunt my dreams

In my dreams

You are


You actually like me – there is no anxiety, no fear, no paranoia – we talk

But then it is, after all, just a dream.

Reality – you are such an ass hole!

bad dream

23 Sep

I had a dream last night, more nightmare. While the preponderance of the dream was a series of frustrations, the terminal portion was frightening.

The setting was a large library-office-classroom complex; akin to what might be seen at a major university.  The structures were broken into distinct part with adjoining covered, opened and enclosed walkways between the structures. I know there were more than 4 major structures, but not how many. The buildings made a closed-loop with a commons or green area in the middle. The adjoining concourses were multilevel, as were the buildings.  Areas that were left open were there for the patrons to enjoy the weather and to socialize instead of just a pedestrian trail. Obviously the enclosed portions were in place to protect against the winter storms and spring rains. The sky was overcast, almost gray, calm breeze and the temperature was in the mid 60s (19 deg C).

I needed to get to someplace to finish a task before it was too late. I had already screwed up by not noticing the materials I was given were incomplete. It may have been their error, but it was my ass that was on the line. I had already delivered the documents/materials, and that is when I discovered the problem.

I rushed back. Through the buildings, up and down the crowded stairs, in and out of the different library sections. Some areas were very modern with AV equipment as expected in a science and technology section. Others were Victorian; spiral stair cases, bookshelves with rolling ladders, narrow corridors as appropriate for classics. The area was full of young people, surprisingly well dressed, occupying the tables, sitting on the carpets, and leaning against the railings, meticulously studying, taking notes and talking in soft whispers. In my haste, I kept bumping into them. I would say “sorry.” They were all very polite, offering to help or move out-of-the-way. (Obviously at this point I knew I was dreaming.)

I was lost. I could not make my way back, wrong turn here, locked door there – dead end. Occasionally, in the distance I would here a faint voice – “Help me”, than several moments later, “Oh, please help me!” half-a-minute, a minute then “Won’t someone help?” voice with no particular location, a pleading, begging voice. A voice of pain that no one else heard or gave any consideration too except myself.   I am late – late – late. I don’t have time. I must get this done, besides there is no way I could find this person.

I continued to rush thought the labyrinths of books, stacks, people, doors and hallways. I continue to hear “Oh, please help,” “Won’t you help me?” Then another refrain: “It’s not true. They are lying about me.” Followed a vague time later, “It didn’t happen like that. It is a lie!”

Suddenly – I am outside. The door closes behind me. I am on the ground level of the concourse. Just ahead – and slightly to the left there is a steel stairwell superstructure.  At the bottom, near a corner, a body – it is he. He lays crumpled. His limbs contorted as if broken and dislocated from a great fall. No blood; his skin is unbroken. He looks like a creature from a horror movie or video game like “Left 4 Dead.”

“Help me.”

I slowly moved towards him. I hear a noise. Some one above me is yelling. Wild movements, ballistic not flailing  – a warning! A young woman joins him.  I cannot understand what they are saying, but they are warning me of danger.

I continue to move forward. The body erupts with paroxysms of pulsating flagellations.  I stop – dead. The body rises to its feet, arms contorted and leg uncoordinated.  He starts moving towards me. I’m scared, although at most it look like the most he can do is slobber on me. Grab cell phone. Dial 9-1-1. Ring – answer, “Do you want to make a statement?”

What?! Do I want to make a statement? No, ‘what is your emergency?’

I start backing away. Stuttering. Trying to explain monster, zombie coming towards me. What is my location? Can’t talk.  Trying to keep an eye on him-it, don’t fall over. Stumble.

Quick – burst – rapid, moves towards me. Panic.

I awake, heart pounding, rapid breathing – wet. (No. Not down there. I  haven’t had enuresis in decades.) I was diaphoretic.

Couldn’t sleep. Got up and got a glass of water and Tylenol for my head ache. What does it mean? Went back to bed. Restless and wide awake.

Not haiku

16 Sep

Coupe in repose

I dreamt that we were lying in repose
Your head on my chest
– I can feel your heart –
– You are my heart –

More mushrooms

11 Sep

No. This is not a mushroom

Just a couple of mushroom photos

9 Sep

How to handle those annoying telemarketers calling in the evening. Need advise.

7 Sep

Jenny has a very nice comment about spam,  but what about phone spam. Even though I have signed up for those “Do not call list” and even had one of those devices that signals that your line is disconnected, I am still getting those call. So I would like to hear the techniques of how you handle them.

Seinfeld: “I’m sorry, I am busy at the moment. Listen, why don’t you give me your home number and I’ll call you back. – pause – You don’t want me calling you at home?  What makes you think I want you call me then?”

My mother: “ Go rot in hell you bastard!”

BTW, this is not a good one. They often call back and tell her to fuck off.

(Version 1)
Me: Hello
Caller:  Mr. Mousebert?
Me: Yes. (Suspiciously)
Caller: How are you doing tonight?
Me: Very well. Thank you for asking. (Hang up.)

(Version 2)
Me: Hello
Caller:  Mr. Mousebert?
Me: Yes. (Suspiciously)
Caller: (Starts spiel)
Me: (puts phone down – check in a few minutes, then hang up)

(Version 3)
Me: Hello
Caller:  Mr. Mousebert?
Me: Yes. (Suspiciously)
Caller: (Ask support of for blood bank)
Me: I give at the office. (I really do. I work at a hospital.)
Alternate if I am feeling like a jackass: I thought active malaria was a contraindicated for donating blood. (Fill-in your blood borne disease of choice. AIDS, Hepatitis A-E, leishmaniasis)

(Version 4)
Me: Hello
Caller:  Mr. Mousebert?
Me: No. This is Detective Larson of the *** Police department, Homicide. How long have you known the deceased and when was the last time you spoke to him? (Ad-lib)

(Version 5)
Me: Hello
Caller:  Mr. Mousebert?
Me: Yes. (Suspiciously)
Caller: Is Mrs. Mousebert at home” (Variant) Can I speak to Mrs. Mousebert.

  1. Me: No.
  2. Me: Who is calling?
    Caller: (Provides ID)
    Me: (Goes looking and never finds her)
  3. Me: Are you the fucking bastard that has been having an affair with my wife? I am going to track you down and …(Usually has hung up by now.)
  4. Me: My wife was (killed in a car accident) (ran off with her lesbian partner) (etc) Thank you for reminding me.

So what are your favorite snarky retorts?