Skip to main content

about last night

i really have to stop doing this.

apparently, while he was off in the land of nod, i awakened dom making giggling noises. whatever was going on in my head, i assure you it was friggin' hilarious, but when i tried to explain it to him, all that came out was "i was spitting food!!" which really he didn't find funny enough to warrant being disturbed in the middle of the night. i'm not even sure if he realised that i was trying to explain the joke to him, or if he thought i'd just been sitting in bed, happily spitting food on myself and giggling.

if you've ever had the experience of someone not getting a joke that you think is absolutely hysterical, you know how frustrating it can be. and if you've ever had the experience of being frustrated by something when you're half-asleep, you know that frustration can quickly escalate to childish rage, because you just can't rationalise what's happening.

so my brain got a full charge of child rage and then- and this was really the biggest mistake- fell back to sleep.

wherein it plotted its revenge.

its revenge was to give me some bizarre nightmare where some guy got poisoned while "the great muppet caper" played in the background and the police were investigating and questioning everyone and i did my interview and totally aced it, but then i stood at the front of the room where we were all being held temporarily and i was wearing a dark red silk dress that had a bit of a tear under the armpit and i started jumping up and down and laughing and repeating "i did it! i did it!" because i wanted everyone, police and colleagues, to understand that i'd been so damn clever and gotten away with murder. [although i apparently hadn't thought through the strategy terribly well, because normally if you've gotten away with murder, you don't want to publicise.]

in the real world, outside of my muppet movie murder meltdown, this manifested as me cackling in a profoundly evil and disturbing way. it started off quiet enough, but grew louder and crazier in short order. and then louder and crazier still.

having had enough, dom poked me in the side and said "honey, you're scaring me".

at which point my laughter became a scream. and not just a quick "eeek!!", either. instead, the steady stream of laughter became a steady stream of

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA


AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

and then i woke up and my brain's errant night watchman once again did the only thing he knows how to do, which is release arseloads of dopamine so that i got the giggles.

except that i knew my giggling was somehow frightening, so i tried to stifle the noise, which meant that i sort of laid in bed for the next twenty minutes making what sounded like soft pig noises. i'm sure that was much more soothing than laughter.

none of this would have happened if dom had just seen the humour in me spitting food.

the image above is an iteration of the horrifying houseguest meme. find more here.

Comments

as long as you're here, why not read more?

wrong turn

as some of you are aware, i have a long-term project building a family tree. this has led me to some really interesting discoveries, like the fact that i am partly descended from crazy cat people, including the patron saint of crazy cat ladies, that a progenitor of mine once defeated a french naval assault with an army of scarecrows, that my well-established scottish roots are just as much norwegian as scottish, and that a relative of mine from the early middle ages let one rip with such ferocity that that's basically all he's remembered for. but this week, while i was in the midst of adding some newly obtained information, i found that some of my previous research had gone in an unexpected direction: the wrong one.

where possible, i try to track down stories of my better-known relatives and in doing so this week, i realised that i couldn't connect one of my greatĖ£ grandfathers to his son through any outside sources. what's worse that i found numerous sources that con…

dj kali & mr. dna @ casa del popolo post-punk night

last night was a blast! a big thank you to dj tyg for letting us guest star on her monthly night, because we had a great time. my set was a little more reminiscent of the sets that i used to do at katacombes [i.e., less prone to strange meanderings than what you normally hear at the caustic lounge]. i actually invited someone to the night with the promise "don't worry, it'll be normal". which also gives you an idea of what to expect at the caustic lounge. behold my marketing genius.

mr. dna started off putting the "punk" into the night [which i think technically means i was responsible for the post, which doesn't sound quite so exciting]. i'd say that he definitely had the edge in the bouncy energy department.

many thanks to those who stopped in throughout the night to share in the tunes, the booze and the remarkably tasty nachos and a special thank you to the ska boss who stuck it out until the end of the night and gave our weary bones a ride home…

eat the cup 2018, part seven :: oh, lionheart

it all seemed so magical: england's fresh-faced youngsters marching all the way through to a semi-final for the first time since 1990. everywhere, the delirious chants of "it's coming home". and then, deep into added time, the sad realization: it's not coming home. oh england, my lionheart.

now, if we're being really strict about things, my scottish ancestors would probably disown me for supporting England, because those are the bastards who drove them off their land and sent them packing to this country that's too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter. and indeed, shops in scotland have sold through their entire stock of croatian jerseys, as the natives rallied behind england's opponents in the semi-final. however, a few generations before they were starved and hounded from the lands they'd occupied for centuries, my particular brand of scottish ancestors would have encouraged me to support england [assuming that national football had even…