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Dream Log 09/26/2008

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I've decided to start keeping a dream log now that I've begun dreaming again.  I wrote this last night, see if you can decipher it.

You had a cooking show, socialism, other hosts "disappear".  Show eventually becomes special on how McDonalds has a live turkey at each store.  Lead anti-turkey uprising.  Kendon on his back trying to suck on a lizard for milk.

For those of you who know Kendon, that last part shouldn't seem all that out-of-the-ordinary.

Urine Gone

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My sister and I can take a single idea, no matter how stupid and ridiculous it is, and turn it into a conversation that lasts far longer than it should.  I give you, urine gone...


Lisa [7:30 P.M.]:  This would have been the perfect accompaniment to what you got Andrew:
Lisa [7:30 P.M.]:  http://www.asseenontvguys.com/index.asp?PageAction=VIEWPROD&ProdID=62 ME [7:30 P.M.]:  I've seen commercials for that!
ME [7:31 P.M.]:  I'm more interested in the black light than the spray
Lisa [7:31 P.M.]:  It's actually called URINE Gone
Lisa [7:31 P.M.]:  What should we name this product that gets rid of urine?
ME [7:31 P.M.]:  the best part of the commercial is when they shine the black light on the toilet and every side is clearly drenched in urine
Lisa [7:31 P.M.]:  That was a 2 second meeting
ME [7:31 P.M.]:  done and done
Lisa [7:31 P.M.]:  who the hell lives at that house?
ME [7:32 P.M.]:  the inventors of urine gone
Lisa [7:32 P.M.]:  It's like all over the walls, and a trail out to the kitchen
ME [7:32 P.M.]:  who necessitated its invention
ME [7:32 P.M.]:  and on all the glasses in the cabinets
Lisa [7:32 P.M.]:  "Hell, if we can invent this product, we can take a piss anywhere we like!"
ME [7:32 P.M.]:  "And never have to wipe it clean again!"
Lisa [7:33 P.M.]:  I am imagining that house to have that sickly sweet smell of urine with a combination of a floral/orange aroma covering it
Lisa [7:33 P.M.]:  gives me the willies just thinking about it
ME [7:33 P.M.]:  man, your house smells like urine and lemon scented urine cleaner!
Lisa [7:33 P.M.]:  there's like urine in the light fixtures and all over the dishwasher
ME [7:34 P.M.]:  on the bottle of urine gone itself
Lisa [7:34 P.M.]:  totally, totally!!
Lisa [7:34 P.M.]:  it's in the plants, all the plants are dying
ME [7:34 P.M.]:  the black light is dripping with urine
Lisa [7:34 P.M.]:  all the glasses and plates in the cupboards are a little bit stuck when you try to lift them out
ME [7:35 P.M.]:  all the shoes are brimming with urine
Lisa [7:35 P.M.]:  you open up the car door and a flood of urine comes out
Lisa [7:35 P.M.]:  Toilet:  totally clean.  Could drink out of it
ME [7:35 P.M.]:  they turn on the computer and urine shoots out of the fans in the back
Lisa [7:36 P.M.]:  they make coffee and the first few drips are some urine before the coffee brews
ME [7:36 P.M.]:  EVERYTHING in the bathroom glows bright green from the black light EXCEPT the toilet
Lisa [7:36 P.M.]:  AND except for the diaper pails/baby changing tables
ME [7:36 P.M.]:  the tooth brushes stand out especially well
Lisa [7:37 P.M.]:  I don't know about you, but I am laughing so hard I'm crying
ME [7:37 P.M.]:  yeah, Arn's like, "What are you laughing at?"
ME [7:38 P.M.]:  they show the lady using it and her mouth and nose glow bright green
Lisa [7:38 P.M.]:  tell him:  urine
Lisa [7:39 P.M.]:  thinking about it, though, they had to name it Urine Gone because Pee Pee Gone just doesn't have the same ring of credibility
ME [7:39 P.M.]:  or Wiz Gone wouldn't work either, does it clean up urine or cheese wizz?
ME [7:39 P.M.]:  your move
Lisa [7:39 P.M.]:  I can't, I can't!
Lisa [7:40 P.M.]:  OMG, I think I have need of Urine Gone for my pants now...
ME [7:40 P.M.]:  ha!
Lisa [7:40 P.M.]:  Laughing...so...hard...
Lisa [7:40 P.M.]:  that would work, except you'd be uncomfortably damp all the time.  do you think the black light would help dry?
ME [7:41 P.M.]:  it might, but odds are you'd find out more about what's stained in your house than you'd like to
ME [7:41 P.M.]:  oh!  Ceiling fan!  That too!
Lisa [7:42 P.M.]:  I think about that with the cat and dog sometimes--you know, they don't wipe and yet, here they are, walking about with their exposed butts all day long
Lisa [7:42 P.M.]:  ceiling fan!!
Lisa [7:42 P.M.]:  splatter marks around the ceiling from whizzing on it while it's on!
Lisa [7:42 P.M.]:  Also:  all your circuits in your house are shorting out all the time
ME [7:42 P.M.]:  and not just a few specks, it has to look like someone took a firehouse full of urine to it
ME [7:43 P.M.]:  your carpet is crunchy from dried urine
Lisa [7:43 P.M.]:  you slip on the ceramic tile constantly
Lisa [7:43 P.M.]:  if it's not wet from urine, it's wet from Urine Gone!
Lisa [7:43 P.M.]:  You just spray it on and leave it there, don't need to wipe it up
ME [7:43 P.M.]:  it's a constant struggle in your house between urine and Urine Gone
Lisa [7:44 P.M.]:  pretty soon you just take to dunking entire pieces of furniture in vats of it
ME [7:44 P.M.]:  you fill super soakers with it to battle the army of stray cats which roam your house urinating everywhere
Lisa [7:45 P.M.]:  you wash produce in it when you bring it home from the grocery in hopes that it helps combat the urine that will eventually cover it
Lisa [7:46 P.M.]:  eventually and inevitably--you KNOW that head of lettuce isn't making it scot free
ME [7:46 P.M.]:  everything soft from your house squishes from either fluid, your house is like one giant sponge full of urine and urine gone
Lisa [7:46 P.M.]:  your move
Lisa [7:47 P.M.]:  your sump pump has to have a special attachment just to deal with the viscosity of it all
ME [7:47 P.M.]:  you are constantly replacing your sump pumps because the motors are continuously burning out from constantly pumping urine out of your basement
ME [7:48 P.M.]:  you also have an array of sump pumps, however you usually don't have power because the circuit breaker is always dripping with urine]
Lisa [7:48 P.M.]:  so now you have these smell:  urine, citrus/floral, CAT urine, and burning motor oil
ME [7:48 P.M.]:  also the smell of shorting out electronics giving you a burning silicon/urine smell
Lisa [7:49 P.M.]:  omg, omg
Lisa [7:49 P.M.]:  coughing laughing now
Lisa [7:49 P.M.]:  tears, tears...
Lisa [7:50 P.M.]:  this just doesn't get old!@
ME [7:51 P.M.]:  of course not!  I can't get the image of those damn stray cats, parading through the house and just peeing everywhere, soaking everything as you battle them with industrial size drums of urine gone like a medieval castle siege, only instead of dumping hot tar on your enemies, you're dumping urine gone
ME [7:52 P.M.]:  some of the cats are wearing armor too
Lisa [7:52 P.M.]:  the cats, of course, are disgusted by your living conditions and only ever come over to take a piss
ME [7:52 P.M.]:  but they do so in a constant stream of cats
Lisa [7:52 P.M.]:  all your neighbors love you b/c they never have to clean litter boxes
Lisa [7:53 P.M.]:  oh yes, there are dozens.  no--hundreds!
ME [7:53 P.M.]:  cycling through your house like cars waiting to be processed at a toll booth, they fan out in your house yet file out two by two
Lisa [7:53 P.M.]:  all wearing armor
Lisa [7:54 P.M.]:  they have little flags coming off their helmets
ME [7:54 P.M.]:  from all different nations
Lisa [7:54 P.M.]:  are they peeing AS they walk?
ME [7:54 P.M.]:  just the ones on the inside track
ME [7:54 P.M.]:  kind of like Speedpass
Lisa [7:54 P.M.]:  ah, yes, of course
Lisa [7:55 P.M.]:  okay, I think I'm finally calming down
Lisa [7:55 P.M.]:  I seriously haven't laughed that long in a long time
Lisa [7:55 P.M.]:  not that kind of crying-laughing anyway
ME [7:55 P.M.]:  I have to buy some now, for the "awakening"
Lisa [7:56 P.M.]:  JIM, DON'T!!!
ME [7:56 P.M.]:  *Carmina Burana: O Fortuna* (The first song here http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B000001G5X/002-4913547-3544042?v=glance&n=5174)


ME [7:56 P.M.]:  dun dun dun dun, dun dun dun dun, dun dun dun dun, dun, dun duuuuun!!!!
Lisa [7:56 P.M.]:  I can see it now--total bewilderment as it fails to register on Mom's, Dad's and Arn's faces:  "Is Jim taking a piss on the couch?"
Lisa [7:57 P.M.]:  "Why are all these cats walking down Hodgson?"
ME [7:57 P.M.]:  why do they have armor?
Lisa [7:57 P.M.]:  How did that cat from Swaziland make it to Mentor?
ME [7:57 P.M.]:  how did they get so organized?
Lisa [7:58 P.M.]:  who put that armor on th...holy CRAP!  They're coming our way!
ME [7:58 P.M.]:  The people from Urine gone are organizing a resistance
ME [7:59 P.M.]:  VIVA LA U.G.!
Lisa [7:59 P.M.]:  It's just the laziest invention ever
Lisa [7:59 P.M.]:  Of course, it probably wasn't meant to be a "spray the urine, leave it there, piss anywhere you like" kind of product when it first started out
ME [8:00 P.M.]:  it is in my head
Lisa [8:00 P.M.]:  well, yeah, I mean, who would go through the trouble of getting up to pee if you've got a bottle of U.G. sitting next to you?
ME [8:00 P.M.]:  exactly, it should come with a holster
Lisa [8:01 P.M.]:  and, somehow we could work this out--it could go into one of those beer hats.  you know, the kind with the two holders
Lisa [8:02 P.M.]:  b/c your head would be covered in urine at all times too
ME [8:02 P.M.]:  with dual spray nozzles like John Goodman at the end of Arachnophobia
Lisa [8:02 P.M.]:  yes, exactly
Lisa [8:03 P.M.]:  doesn't urine cause calluses?
ME [8:03 P.M.]:  one of those, "Chit Chit Chit CHEEEEEEE" lawn watering things on top of the helmet
Lisa [8:03 P.M.]:  well, yeah, and for your lawn too
Lisa [8:03 P.M.]:  course--your lawn would be totally brown and dead, but it would at least help with the cat problem
Lisa [8:03 P.M.]:  maybew
Lisa [8:03 P.M.]:  maybe
Lisa [8:03 P.M.]:  anyway, back to calluses
ME [8:04 P.M.]:  that's true, and it would be urine "free"
Lisa [8:04 P.M.]:  wait, the lawn's urine free?
ME [8:04 P.M.]:  yes
Lisa [8:04 P.M.]:  what, now the neighbors are walking their dogs INSIDE your house?
ME [8:04 P.M.]:  I think it's safe to assume that all animals are entering and exiting your house as they please
Lisa [8:06 P.M.]:  So, let's get this straight.  You've got your own urine covering every item in your home, a parade of international Viking cats filing two by two through your home, pissing everywhere they go, neighbors walking their dogs inside your home to relieve themselves, and the family of raccoons that lives in your garbage parading through your home?
ME [8:06 P.M.]:  and you have no time to urinate in the bathroom because it's an epic struggle against the forces of urine
ME [8:06 P.M.]:  catch 22
Lisa [8:07 P.M.]:  are you wearing The Gentleman's Assistant?
ME [8:07 P.M.]:  can't, it's full
ME [8:07 P.M.]:  that sucker quit on you long ago


These were the last words that slipped through my mind as the anesthesiologist pumped me full of whatever mind-numbing chemical-of-the-gods he had in that syringe.  A moment prior, the nurse in the operating room blurted out "It's cocktail time!"  Was she was referring to me and the slurry of fluids running into my veins, or did I manage to choose a hospital run by chronic alcoholics? 

Note to self: Check your hospital gown for maraschino cherry stains IF you wake up.

The anesthesiologist remained silent, but he stared at me with this piercing gaze that instantaneously informed me that this was a man who enjoyed his power to put people into a temporary coma.  This was simultaneously comforting and terrifying.  All I could think about was how the last time I was put under for an operation, I managed to tell a nurse in full-detail what wines were in my basement, where they were from, what grapes they were made with, and when I intended to drink them.  It's as if my brain's subconscious is my consciousness' mischievous twin brother who lives in my brain's library.  I can't tell my subconscious what to do, but I have to acknowledge that he has full access to all of my archives, particularly the "fears and concerns" section.  My only hope is that this time the anesthesiologist knocks my ass out so cold that my subconscious won't grab the wheel and blurt out how thoroughly I both fear and respect this man.  I need to distract myself, I need to set my mind on something stupid, something inane that will occupy by my entire chemical-saturated brain for the duration of the operation.  "Do Asians dream of teriyaki sheep?..."

I woke up five seconds later in a daze to the sound of two nurses discussing my recovery. 

"Yeah he's coming out of it."

Thank God, there's no panic in her voice, and her hands are free of all booze-serving implements.

This room is hazy, I think the nurse just asked me where my pain is on a scale of one to ten?

"Niiiiiine..."

The blessed nurse pumps me full of morphine, and at that moment all things in the world seem fair.  Sweet sweet coma, my lover is morphine.

I wake up hours later to the sound of my mom's voice.  She's telling me that the operation went well, and that I look "good".  My mom encourages me to take a sip of water, per the doctor's instructions, and I draw a taste of the frigid liquid onto my tongue and hold it there, this isn't as bad as I thought it would be?  I swallow... ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE!  Unbeknown to my morphine-soaked brain, my sinuses are stuffed to the rafters with cotton, cotton which has soaked-up about an oil-drum's worth of blood by my estimation.  It's as if someone took a fire hose, found an appropriate adapter to screw it into my nostril, and turn the valve to 11.  My eyes attempt to escape my head as I gag, cough, heave, and launch a teaspoon of water from my mouth onto my crotch.  Great, now my crotch is wet AND life is hell.  My mom giggles for a moment, and I begin to wonder if I was raised by Jokey Smurf.

I'm too exhausted to care, I need sleep.  Hello pillow, I'm going to drool on you now...

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