A Chris Themed Dream?

Tonight I had a really weird dream with 3 different Chris. I have not idea how to pluralize Chris right now as it is 5:30 in the morning and I am barely awake. Back to the dream. I don't use names on my blog, but I don't really see a way around this and it none of the people I mention are in contact with me now, so I guess it won't matter.

I was in a yellow 4-door sedan. It was old, from the seventies or something like that. Considering I am from the seventies, I would like to rephrase that to say it was middle aged. No, wait, it was, um in the prime of its life? Forget it. Anyway, my mom, dad and aunt were in the backseat. In the front seat was a girl-Kris, and a guy-Chris I used to make out with on occasion when I was about 19. I just reread that and would like to be clear; I only made out with the guy. It wasn't like I was having a threesome with Chris people. Wow, that got weird in a hurry.

The Kris and my parents were in town visiting. We were at some strip mall having just eaten at a restaurant. Kris was driving and decided to get out of the crowded parking lot by backing up onto the walkway in front of the strip mall to drive on the sidewalk around the cars back onto the parking lot. I questioned it and she said it was totally legal where she lives and started backing up. I was sitting in the passenger seat watching the cars beside us. She backed up but turned too soon and ran into the corner of the parked car sitting next to us. I saw this happening but couldn't tell her. Being a dream, I instead had a conversation with my father about how I didn't think she saw the parked cars like I did.

Instead of stopping when she took off the corner of the car, she kept backing up. The line of her trajectory had her scraping along the back of the next three cars in line. We finally yelled at her to stop. Which she did and got out to survey the mess. As we were sizing up the situation, a cop car pulled into the parking lot, flashed its lights once and stopped in front of us. I panicked because I realized I was suddenly sitting in the drivers' seat. There was a quick conversation in the car and we decided to tell the cop that Chris was the one driving. Apparently we came up with a dream-plausible reason for this, in case the cop asked.

The minute the cop walked up to the car, I started flirting. Not because he was attractive, but because I thought we could use all the help we could get. He was attractive though. Not hot exactly, but more my type. Yes, I know that sounds weird. I typically go for unorthodox looking guys. He was tall, with a round face a round middle, beefy upper body and kind eyes. (Yes, I like my guys with some middle, some squish to cuddle against. Six pack abs are hard and uncomfortable.) I must say I was totally on point. The cop was very taken with me and gave me his business card, in case I needed to contact him later with any questions. After he walked away, there was much discussion about my interaction. My father was telling my mom all about how that is how you have to act and gave a compliment akin to "That's my girl."

As we were getting out of the car, I looked at the card with the name Detective Chris Johnson. Mentally deciding that I would indeed have some questions later, I slipped the card into my pocket. Officer Chris came back and asked to speak to me and my father. He told us that in a few moments the officers who would be handling the case would be here and there would be a round of questioning for Make-Out-Chris. He was able to inform us as to the nature of the questioning with out really saying it. (There is a word for that whole phrase, but I am too tired to think of it.) Basically they were going to ask him a bunch of questions about pot. He liked us (me) and wanted to help us (me) out in any way possible, but since he was the first officer on the scene, he could not tell Make-Out-Chris himself.

My dad declined and sent me over to talk to him. Keep in mind that Make-Out-Chris was still 19 in this dream, so I was no longer attracted to him, he was more like a brother or cousin at this point. Before the other officers showed up, I was able to discuss this with him. I should mention that the reason for all this concern was that he was noticeably slow mentally. Not mentally challenged, just not quite quick witted enough to evade all the questioning without prepping.

This was only a dream aspect of Make-Out-Chris. When I was making out with him, he was in no way slow. Also I am not sure if he smoked pot back in the day, but given the crowd, it was highly likely. I am saying this because most people know my aversion to dating anyone who like the herb and understand that both of these things are pretty abnormal for me to be attracted to. Not that it mattered the dream because again, he was 19 and too young for me to be attracted to him.

So the secondary police officers arrive on the scene and Officer Chris drives away IN A WHITE 80s A-TEAM VAN! I kid you not. This van was the exact same, painted white with a blue strip diagonally down the side. To refresh your memory:


I recognized the shape because of the spoiler on top. (Why does a van need a spoiler? I guess since it is driven by Mr. T., I can understand and will not rant.) Sadly, I was suddenly very excited and decided I was definitely going to have some questions later for Officer Chris. Like how the freak he was allowed to have that van as a police car. It. Was. Awesome. Sadly, I am still excited.

The dream fast forwards to a day at the beach with my brothers and a few of their friends. (I don't remember exactly who.) For some reason we were soaked to the skin. Oddly we were still in Colorado. A section of beach and the highway leading away from it were just cut and pasted into the dream by my brain. We stop at a gas station to use the rest room and buy some snacks when they leave without me! Yup. They just totally forget about me and drive off. I am left standing outside.

All I have are the clothes on my back. I can't call my brother to tell him what a dumbass he is because I don't have my cell and don't have his number memorized. I have a minor philosophical conversation with myself about how times have changed and no one memorizes numbers anymore. But then, I reach into my pocket and find (fanfare) Officer Chris' card. It is dilapidated and soggy around the edges, but the number is intact.

I call. Seconds later the white, A-Team van drives up. With my heart all a-flutter at being rescued, I get into the van. We have an awesome, flirty conversation. Apparently I am looking for a job or considering going back to school. He tells me about a job and a school right next door to each other.

Then the dream cuts to me in a restaurant waiting for food. It is now nighttime I am still wet, I think I am now barefoot and a friend is waiting outside to take me home. I go out and tell him that I am still waiting on food, but am going to run next door to get applications for a job I heard about and look at the "school." We are waiting at yet another strip mall, so I have no idea what kind of school this is, but have the vague impression that it is a trade school of some sort. He tells me he is going to drive around the corner to run an errand but will be right back.

I get the applications go back to the restaurant and the lady behind the counter hands me a huge cellophane bag with hot dog buns in it. I take it and she explains that because she is sorry for the wait, she has given me 3 more hot dogs and extra buns, in case I want them later. I am now happy about the $2 hot dog that I purchased since it will give me leftovers for the week. Before that I was angry at the absurd price of $2. And I am elated that the hot dog buns appear to be whole wheat. There is so much wrong here that I can't even comment.

I go outside in time to see the the A-Team van drive off. I get into the car with the giant bag, prompting my friend to comment that I have, "Yet another week's worth of food." I ask him about Officer Chris and he tells me that Chris was checking up on me to make sure I had gotten home safely. My friend told him that I was getting a ride home with him and all was well. Chris then tells him how he also was checking to see if I needed help with the applications because he is certified in paperwork.

Hold on, I have to stop and laugh. Even in the dream we find that ludicrous and have a nice chuckle. I defend Officer Chris by saying that he is kind of a boy scout and really nice guy, so he is not really as goofy as he came off. We sit quietly for a few minutes driving up Broadway. I then turn to my friend and say, "I think I like Officer Chris, is it weird for me to tell you that?" (My friend is about 10 - 15 years older and is more of a fatherly type guy in my life which is why it would be weird to get all twitterpated with him. That is more of a girl to girl conversation in my head I guess.)

And then I wake up. With heartburn. Really, really bad heartburn. What that has to do with the dream, I don't know. Maybe it is all the $2 hotdogs I ate. But it did keep me from going back to sleep which in turn led me to write this all out. So you can thank the heartburn while I curse it.

As I think through my dream again, (I am not going to reread and edit, so just be happy you are getting a post as you judge all the errors.) I am noticing an "I am old" theme running through out along side the Chris theme. Let's not forget the real moral of this story. I would date anyone driving personalized A-Team van.

It is nice to know that nostalgic cheese is the real key to my heart. Like that was a huge secret.

The Silver Tongued Devil

Today is Brother R's birthday. I don't have a lot of money these days, so I thought I would use this blog to pay tribute to him. When I first started writing this blog, I made him read it so that I could get his approval before circulating it among the masses. He loves to write. He even published his own magazine.

This magazine, The Trucktacular, was a huge success. He only stopped doing it because it became too much work to do on his own. It was pretty much a blog in paper form. He filled it with stories about people he knew. He had a question and answer section with his dwarf character from World of Warcraft whose answer to everything included use of an axe. There were interviews with random people in his life including his 7 year old daughter. There was a recount of his weekly basketball game that was retold in a way that even I, a total sportsophobe, looked forward to reading. The best was a monthly in depth account of a local gang war titled, "The Corporation Vs. The Working Man." He allowed us a rare insight into the gritty rivalry that had pitted his box store warehouse co-workers against his brother and wife's office coworkers. There were beat downs, kidnappings and turf invasions as each gang tried to establish their superiority. There are not many published authors who can make me laugh as hard as I did reading those accounts.

I just can't sit here and describe his writing. I am going to reprint my favorite episode for the rest of you. Please note that his style is to use everyone's real names as well as nicknames making the stories are more personal. I do the opposite in my blog so I will just use nicknames wherever possible and initials when they are not. Mostly because I haven't even met some of these people and don't particularly want to get sued. Without further ado today's surprise (as much to him as anyone else) guest writer Brother R.

The Corporation Vs. The Working Man
Tales of a Secret War
Episode 2 (In Episode 1, The Lockbox Corporation had gone to Bullseye Mart and was attacked with various products by The Truckabee gang.)

Disclaimer: Corporation names have been changed to protect the innocent.

The Truckabees knew that they had started an all out war with The Lockbox Corporation and knew they were always going to be in danger. The day would come where a bloody unneeded battle would take place and people would die. Cobra could not let this happen. He knew that if he went alone to the Lockbox Corporation headquarters he might be able to reach some kind of truce with his brother. He also thought that since it was during business hours it would be less likely to get a beat down.

As he waited in the lobby for MF to come down, he was noticeably nervous. Ding. The elevator doors opened and the younger F brother stood inside. But he was not alone. His "friend" MC was with him along with a man called EB. EB was a man that had a past with Cobra. Once friends, they turned into bitter enemies over a questionable homerun call at a whiffle ball tournament. EB swore it cleared the fence and was in fair territory while Cobra thought it was the opposite. Needless to say this was an explosive relationship.

"I thought maybe we could reach a truce, so that none of your people would have to miss any work time." Cobra spoke with an arrogant smile.

"How bout this?" EB leaped across the room and slapped a figure four leg lock on him instead. MF ran over and dropped an elbow right on top of his head for good measure. Cobra looked up at the receptionist, hoping that she was on the phone with the police so that a little justice might prevail. He was quite shocked to see her laughing and pointing as the Lockbox employees imposed their will on him. Finally, MC ran over and said that they should stop before they went too far. Then he laughed, kicked Cobra in his rock hard abs and slapped him in his face.

"You guys wanna throw soup cans at people?" Matt asked as he opened a thermos and began to dump it out on a now semi-conscious Cobra. "Well, here is some soup. And it's split pea. HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I guess it was clear in the mind of Cobra that there was going to be no truce. This thing had already become more explosive than even he had thought. As he crawled out the doors of the enormous office building, he had but one thing on his mind. Revenge!

Cobra struggled to get to his car, but finally did make it. He grabbed out his cell, and placed a call to his colleague, The Incredible Bulk. The Bulk couldn't believe his ears. A three on one beat down? That was more Truckabee style than anything. "Don't worry chief, I got the payback taken care of."

"Hello," Bulk said on one end of the phone. "Yeah, we have a bit of a situation. Yeah, they got cobra. Three on one. I know, that's more our style. OK I am on my way to pick you up."

4:55 PM Lockbox corporation Headquarters

Work was over for MF and he was on his way out of the building headed to his car. It was dark now and there was a weird feeling in the air. Unfortunately for MF he didn't park in the parking garage. No, it was too full, so he parked down the road. This had the mark of trouble written all over it.

"Hello MF." A dark and mysterious voice came out of the bushes. "I hear you like to fight unfair wars against solid citizens of this country. Well I am here to even the score up."

A tasty guitar riff began to play. The Elbow jumped out of the bushes with guitar in tow. Behind him, tripping while exiting the bushes was TruckaD. He had some hot bacon in his hand. "These odds look a little bit better." Cobra was speaking with The Bulk at his side.

"You think I didn't know you Truckalosers would be out here?" MF snapped his fingers. MC and EB jumped out from behind the bushes on the other side of the street. (Man, there are a lot of bushes in Salem.) Then he whistled and two women jumped out of the backseat of MF's car. It was Cobra's wife, EF and her BFFL SM.

The line in the sand was drawn and each group was trying to stare a hole right through the other. Just then The Elbow started a solo on his sweet musical instrument of choice. The Truckabees seemed almost possessed now. Their eyes were red and they didn't look like themselves. TruckaD threw his hot greasy bacon and hit MC right in the face. "My eyes!" MC screamed. "You got bacon grease in my eyes."

EB was now looking right at The Elbow and started playing air guitar to some KISS song he had in his head. The Elbow stopped to check out how frickin' sweet EB's moves were. That was all the chance EF and SM needed. EF pulled The Elbow's hair and SM tried to scratch out his eyeballs.

Seeing his opportunity Cobra grabbed MF and held him as The Bulk was about to take a vicious swing. But then a voice was heard by a man passing by. "Hey guys, what you up to?"

It was DM, SM's husband. "Yes!" Both SM and Cobra yelled at the same time. "What do you mean yes?" SM asked. "He is my husband and he will fight on our side."

"Your crazy." Cobra told the delusional Mrs. M. "He is my best friend and a former Bullseye Mart employee, he is obviously going to fight on our side."

"Well?" SM asked as she peered into his soul. "You have to decide."

"Yeah buddy," Cobra pleaded. "You are going to have to pick a side."

THE END

(OK, I will at least resolve the major cliff hanger with the first bit of Episode 3, "Danny's Decision" since none of you probably have access. As for the battle, no one ever really wins a fight.)

Episode 3

DM was deemed The Franchise by Cobra back in the late nineties because of the promise he showed right from the beginning. These two kids became the best of friends right from day one. They spent countless hours playing PlayStation and running plays down on the Courthouse basketball floor. But his life was now with his wife, SM. How could friendship compete with love? I mean sure Cobra and The Franchise just stood there between the proverbial rock and a hard place. What could he do? He had to break someone's heart. So he did the only logical thing. He turned and ran as fast as he could and he didn't stop until he got home. And even then he went straight into his bedroom and hid under the bed.

NOW THE END

So, that is my brother. I am going to send him this link for his birthday. Please take some time to make a comment below to wish him a Happy Birthday and tell him how awesome you think he is.

I love you bro!

My Niece's First Shopping Disaster

My oldest niece is probably the most fascinating of all my brother's kids. Do not misunderstand. I love both my nieces and my nephew and don't have a favorite. I just find this kid sometimes acts like she is me reincarnated, except I am not dead. Which is entertaining, sometimes a little freaky and always disconcerting to me. Maybe it is because she is the first so we just notice it more, but this child is a living example of nature over nurture.

Two years ago I went back to visit and my mom called her over and told her to show me how she twirled her hair. I was notorious for my hair twirling. I reconnected with a classmate on Facebook and the first thing she wrote was how she still remembers me sitting in class, reading and twirling my hair. The thing that freaked me out was not that she did twirl her hair, but that her technique was eerily the same as mine. My mom asked her why she twirled her hair and I answered, "Because it feels soft against her fingers."

That startled my niece who replied, "I especially like to do it after I use conditioner."

We stared at each other for a while and then I told her, "I like to twirl my hair too. I find it comforting." She agreed.

A few years before that I was talking to my brother about something I found exciting when he just started laughing. I asked him what was funny and he told me that I said, "I KNOW" just like my niece. I laughed and told him that I had been saying it long before she had. The weird thing about all of this is that I don't have any regular contact with them living so far away, so it is extremely unlikely that she is picking up these habits from me. This is evidenced by our mutual love of fashion, even if we don't have the same tastes.

I was once getting ready for a date and had no one to talk to for advice. I called my niece who was probably in kindergarten. I thought it would be fun and settle my nerves. Plus, she was waaaay into teenagers and the prom so she was a little obsessed with the idea of dating and fascinated with her unmarried aunt who still did such things. My mom told me that one time she was talking about dating and said I would know. Leaning in with her hand up to her mouth she whispered loudly, "She dates." Then she pulled back and blushed at the idea.

When I called her and explained the situation, she got very excited and exclaimed, "I have a passion for fashion!" I don't remember the date or even who I was going out with, but I do remember that I was told to wear teal. She was "very into teal" at that time. I also remember that it took much convincing on my part to get her to accept the idea of a skirt over a dress because "you should always wear a dress on a date."

She also used to live in her mind. I don't really know how else to explain it which is why it was so odd for me to recognize it in her. Her brain processes information quickly and follows thoughts to their logical end. Which means she has an answer for everything, not because she is guessing but because she had already thought of an answer ten minutes ago when the concept first presented itself.

Both my nieces between the ages of two or three thought I lived at the airport. Which was heartbreaking because they thought I lived an hour away, but only visited them a couple times a year. When the oldest finally understood the concept of an airport, she came running in to my mom. I was supposed to arrive that day and she wanted confirmation that it was my plane she had just seen overhead. She asked my mom what my plane number was because she thought she saw it but couldn't quite read the number on the plane. After she received a made-up answer, she said, "I knew it!" My mom asked her if she had waved at me and she said no. When asked why not, she replied like my mom was ignorant, "Because she was sitting on the other side of the plane and wouldn't be able to see me."

She has this whole inner storyline that no one else can see. I have the same thing. It is why I sometimes say things completely out of context but expect people to know what I am talking about. I forget they can't see the really random connections that my head makes. When my niece was much younger, you could watch it in her play. She wouldn't play out a storyline that already existed in her mind, she would play through the story as it occurred to her.

I was at my mom's house on vacation a few years back sitting in the living room playing my Gameboy. My four-year-old niece wandered in the room and said, "Is this yours?" I looked up and nodded when I saw her holding a box that was the packaging for something I had gotten in the mail. It was medium sized about 12x10x7. "Can I have it?" She asked, looking genuinely concerned that I would say no. I told her to go ahead and went back to my game.

A couple of minutes later I heard her say, "Oh no! Doggin'!" I looked up to see her scrutinizing the inside of the box and asked what was wrong. "I ordered a bicycle helmet so I could get to work on time, but they sent me a space helmet instead." She paused, continuing to look the box over before she said, "I must have said space helmet by mistake." She put it on her head, looking around with it covering her face and said dejectedly, "Nope, this isn't going to work at all."

When I realized that she was trying out the box to see if it would still work, I lost it. I still laugh whenever I think of her looking around blindly, trying to see if she could make her mishandled order work anyway. She jumped five feet when I guffawed; whipped the box off her head; and looked at me sheepishly as if she had forgotten I was sitting right there. Looking indignant she said, "It's not my fault, it just isn't going to work."

Which sobered me up and made me reply, "Well, you can't be late for work. You'll have to send it back for an exchange. But make sure you have them send it express mail to so you get it sooner."

She nodded her head sagely at this advice but then said, "Or I could keep the space helmet, you never know if I might need it." Then she left the room, leaving me to dissolve into laughter again.

I hope she becomes a writer some day. I can't wait to hear her stories.

You Take Your Car To Work

I'm sitting here thinking about my brother. Not the one I wrestle with, the silver tongued devil. He isn't evil, but that's how the moniker goes and who am I to mess with tradition? He is the funniest guy I know. Growing up, we had a normal sibling rivalry going and not much of a friendship. There was a time, just out of high school, when we were always together. We had a mutual friend that passed away and though unspoken, we found a lot of comfort in each others company. At least that is what I got out of it. You'd have to ask him for his side of the story. Whatever individual reasons we had doesn't really matter. The point is that we bonded. He started hanging out more with my crew which consisted of semi-conservative, young adults from church. Their religion wouldn't really be important except we spent a lot of time shocking them with our inappropriateness.

In addition to the cussing and the sarcastic, stinging wit, there were a lot of incest jokes. It didn't bother us of course. But, to watch the rest of them squirm could make me giggle for hours. It was like they were a little worried. They would laugh, but it was that nervous sort of titter that only the Christians have. At one point a line was crossed. I don't really remember what was said or who said it. I do remember crickets chirping and all of a sudden becoming very uncomfortable. I believe he declared that horse dead while I put the clubs away. So, we found another way to entertain. Again, we mostly entertained ourselves and made others a little uncomfortable because they didn't know how to respond.

We would randomly burst into a duet of a silly little bridge in Surf Wax America by Weezer while in the company of large groups of people. We don't like the same kind of music, so I imagine it evolved from the fact that this was the only tape *cough* I mean cd we could play when we were in the car together. I can only assume these as facts because I remember him teaching me the lines and rehearsing together but not where the idea came from. I doubt it was initially meant to be sung in front of anyone else. But eventually we must have because it became a thing for one of us to start singing and the other to join in if they were within earshot. It was like a little, two person choir. Until I looked up the song just now, I thought that the bridge was repeated multiple times. Turns out Weezer sings it once. It was us who would sing it ten times.

First part:
You take your car to work, I'll take my board
And when you're out of fuel, I'm still afloat.

Second part:
All along the undertow, strengthening my torque
I'd never thought it'd come to this, now I can never go home.

Ahhh, the good times.