Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Let's See if We Can Really Leap This Sharp-Tooth Swimming Beast

As some of you may know, I am now a weekly columnist for the Quick. You can click on this here fancy hyperlinked sentence to read last week's column. And then you can probably type in my name to further delve into my illustrious columning (new word! so hot!) career. The fact that I have bamboozled a print publication into letting me sully their product each week combined with the fact that I lost my zeal for blogging about the Mavs means that this blog has become the internet equivalent of Richardson Square Mall. Tumbleweeds rolling depressingly past an airbrushed t-shirt and cell phone accessories kiosk and the lone remaining anchor store, Sears. It's always the Sears that is the last to go. Berkner High School alum, that joke was for you! Holla back, Rams!

So I've been thinking of using this blog, until the Cowboys come back and take a big steaming dump on our football hopes and dreams of a hometown Super Bowl, to just write down the things that Belo clearly will not publish because they have good judgment. Probably not sports related. Most likely me just bitching about things like water heaters and the price of artichokes. I don't expect many people to read this. This blog is pretty much just a slightly more hygienic version of the people who repeatedly try to explain Lost to sprinklers outside the downtown library.

And to prove this point, I would like to issue the following warning: be really careful about taking valerian root before you go to bed. You see, me and sleep have a very volatile relationship. I love sleep. Sleep is pretty ambivalent about me. I have to set the mood and dress up and make everything just right to make sure sleep comes over. So from time to time, I have taken valerian root to encourage sleep. It works sometimes. But with alternately bizarre and awesome side effects.

It causes dreams that range from sort of scary to full-on, intensity in 10 cities level kickass. Usually, I only remember bits and pieces of my dreams. I was so excited when I woke up this morning that I hit record on my Blackberry to ensure that no detail of my two distinct dream cycles was lost. I present to you, unedited, last night in AmandaCobra's Valerian Dream Explosion:

Dream 1:

I was hired by the big belt sander lobby. I was a belt sander lobbyist, hired to travel the country proclaiming the virtues of belt sanders. I didn't really know a lot about belt sanders but I learned.

But then as I traveled the country, I learned that pretty much anyone who needed a belt sander in their lives was already solidly on Team Belt Sander. Those who weren't on Team Belt Sander weren't really on the fence because, well, they didn't need a belt sander and didn't know why I was wasting their time.

So once I realized that, I also realized that all the time that the Big Belt Sander lobbyists were paying me to preach the gospel of Belt Sanders, I could instead just go to amusement parks. So I did.

But then I got caught after a few months. Instead of losing my job and causing my lobbying group much embarrassment, we worked out a deal where I would travel the country in an Airstream trailer and sing folk songs in the style of Woody Guthrie about belt sanders to appeal to the working man.

This turned out to work surprisingly well and Bruce Springsteen and I recorded a duets album all about belt sanders. Then I woke up.

Dream 2:

Noted comedian Steve Harvey and I were hired by a very downmarket motel chain to travel across the country on a very special mission.

(Side note: Why I gotta be traveling on all these missions in all my dreams? It is very tiring. Can't I just rest for a little bit?)

You see, this motel chain was so low-end and podunk that they had failed to replace any of their in-room telephone books since 1975. Yes, there are many holes in this dream's logic. Why did no one notice this error until 2010? Who uses telephone books anymore? Who hires me and Steve Harvey for this job?

Well, the company's plan was as follows: Steve and I were given a master key which opened every door to every room at every motel in their chain, which is a horrible idea. I would open the door and using my cat-like dexterity and speed, I would sneak into the room while Steve Harvey distracted and entertained the room's occupants with a short stand-up set. While they were distracted I would replace their old 1975 phone books with new phone books.

Overall, Steve and I made a great team and most people never even noticed the switch. Based on this dream, I would highly recommend any cross-country trip with Steve Harvey. He is a wonderful travel companion.

Also, valerian root is kind of badass.

1 comment:

Will said...

Form before content, the reason most columns are worse than others is the same reason that vinyl blowup doll named Sherry will always let you down with a plaintive sigh.

Take heart, though. If the way you say it is inevitably more involving than what you have to say, there's a local NPR commentator position in your future, and a Katie Award can't be far behind.