Random Thoughts

#1 kd Lang sounds great, but every time I see her I think of Vince Gill, who also sounds great. I'm led to believe they're related. In fact, they may very well be identical twins, but she got a vagina....and he got the chest? His is bigger than hers these days. If they're not related, and if she didn't like other women, they'd make a good couple. Actually, they could get together if they'd move to Utah and become Mormon. Vince could stay married to Amy Grant and marry kd Lang too. That way they'd all be "satisfied".

#2 Alanis Morrisette's song "Ironic". What exactly is so ironic about a black fly in your Chardonnay? I'd pick that sucker out and keep drinking. Ain't no little fly gonna ruin my buzz! If it were a coagulated blood ball in my Chardonnay, then we'll talk. Otherwise, you'll find me begging for change by the wine shop or passed out in a pile of trash behind the nearest wine tasting location. Yeah, I think Alanis is a big baby, remember when a bunch of Alanis's were in that car in the MTV Video...well one of them was acting like a baby, and that's probably the one that thinks a fly in wine is ironic.

#3 Wine Tasting - It tastes ok going down, but after "tasting" too much I get sick and the second round of wine tasting begins, which is to say, I yak. After "tasting" nearly a bottle of cheap Merlot I was on my way home and had to pull over and let lose what "IRONICALLY" looked like coagulated blood balls. (Good thing it wasn't near my Chardonnay). The balls were actually matzah balls I didn't chew well enough. (I was trying to stop the burning of the acid reflux caused by the cheapest wine ever). Suddenly.....

#4 I found myself sitting in front of a hospital. What better place to get sick from drinking? The police would think you're just on your way to the ER for the flu, not because you've just ingested grape juice that sat a long long long time in a barrel in France.

#5 Red wine on tan carpet stinks, and stains. Stinky Stain. This right before a yearly family reunion 2 hours away driving in a car without an air conditioner in August. Matzah balls, though they may stay together going down, and coming back up, tend to fall apart when you try wiping them up with your sock. Also, be careful not to step on them once you've taken your shoes off to get your sock. It's so nasty. Slimy. So it was a slimy stink stain STUCK on my sockless shoeless sweaty foot skin.

#6 Bulimia is a lot of work and money for someone that doesn't even like to exercise. I mean you have to eat all this food (chew, chew, chew) then find a place to puke. Then clean up the mess. Why not just chew the food and not swallow? Spit the chewed food in a cup and feed it to underprivileged babies. Hey! It works for mamma birds. If someone is going to spend all that money on food just to get rid of it 5 minutes later, why not kill two birds with one stone and help those less fortunate that don't have teeth yet? Besides there's got to be a tax write off here somewhere for the donation. (That's 3 reasons not to swallow).

#7 If you were thinking a dirty comment about "3 reasons not to swallow" then you're truly strange. Overlooking the fact I've just said I think kd Lang should marry Vince and Amy Gill, I'll drink wine containing bugs, I've stepped on a puke matzah ball, and bulimics shouldn't swallow, they should spit the food in babies mouths....I think I'm pretty normal. Besides isn't "normal" relative?

Just a few thoughts.....

Meanderings of Memory

My mind is mulling over landscapes in my memory. Places I've been throughout my life. Remembrances of what I was feeling at those times. The most vivid of these remnants came during the quietness of being alone. When I was able to focus on the view, focus on the scene, focus on a process, grasping the concept of living without relying upon the opinions of an outside source.

Walking across the Golden Gate Bridge, feeling the wind, the sun, seeing the view of the hills and mountains, the ships passing below, convertibles zooming by on the highway, tiny dots in the water on surfboards. The camera flashes, the tourists talking, pointing, and posing. The smile never left my face. I was someplace I never thought I'd ever be. California was never a reality to me and here it was in all dimensions. I'd read about the construction of this massive bridge in Richard Halliburton's Complete Book of Marvels when I was 8 years old. There I was standing on a fantasy13 years later.

I thought I had it all then - money, a good job, an awesome apartment in NYC, nice clothes. But I had it all alone. I picked up my cell phone and called my mom, dad, and sister. My excitement meant a lot to me, but meant more if they were able to share it with me. I truely wished they were there to be a part of this discovery. It wasn't meant to be. They were very happy for me, I could tell that through the phone, by the sound of their voices, but this to be my experience alone. After wishes of love and goodbye, I hung up.

The wind picked up and I stood there with my eyes closed and took a deep breath of the ocean air. Far out at sea the clouds were gathering. The sun was still bright on land. I picked up a few rocks and threw them losing track as they disappeared from eyesight. My camera helped capture postcard worthy photos. But I don't need them to remember, because the scenes remain embossed on my soul.

I'm now 25, I'd like to take that journey again. I suspect my current unsure man would find my past's confident boy along the bridge and they'd merge to throw rocks into the sea. I would still call home, still take a deep breath, but this time I would know that I have nothing if I don't have God. For though I am weak, He is strong, and the boy that I once was is broken. Personally the only way to mend my life is through Christ.

I give up, I give in, I let Him be my all. I thank Him.

Bagel and Coffee

My cousin gave me a ride yesterday, because I borrowed my roommate's car and had to take it back to him at work, so we hung out for a while......

"DON'T STEP ON THE..." "....BAGEL!" I screamed as my cousin's foot descended on a giant wet bagel lying on the sidewalk. We were walking around Grandview contemplating why the Lutheran church changed from multicolored stained glass to hues of blue. (because it's now a Catholic church). It was seriously the biggest bagel I've ever seen, perhaps due to water saturation, but it was as big as her foot. Then to the post office, which is right next door to a photo development shop. We know this because we went in the photo shop to mail a package.

US: "Yuck, this post office smells funny" "How much to mail a package?".
Photo Guy: "Try next door, this is the photo shop"
US: "Ooops Sorry."
Photo Guy: "happens all the time, don't worry about it."

Off to Panera Bread for a bowl of roasted corn soup. I plopped down in the booth, only to find the springy suspension out. Good food. After eating, need coffee, so sleepy, need coffee. I find myself addicted to coffee these days. It has to be very strong too, not the watery crap from the cafeteria at work. Starbucks, Stauf's, Cup'O'Joe, or Caribou - these are the only brands giving the caffeine buzz necessary to sustain life. Milky Way....mmm. Carmel syrup, whipped cream, chocolate. 1000 calories - (minus) caffeine induced jitters = (equals) me still fat. Exercise - HA! My fingers are in shape. Typing IS exercise.

While standing in line for coffee I crack up at the sight of a seedy grainy raisin cookie. "That things looks like (cat poop)" I spare the people behind me the description. Any particular reason coffee shops have health food while their calorie/caffeine rich drinks cause hypertension? It's like serving a salad with a Big Mac - retarded.

We walk to the fish store. I want to check out the bloodworms just to be grossed out. They don't carry them any more. It sucks.

It's time to go elsewhere, Grandview's venue of day time fun has worn out. In the car I realize I have a booger. We stop at Burger King so I can dig it out. She has to throw snow on her window, because she's out of window cleaner. Booger free, window clean - what other hilarity can ensue?......

Night Riders

Last night my friends and I drove around...all night. We tried to go dancing, but that didn't pan out. We just drove and drove, and drove. Along the way we talked of memories. Spoke of people we used to know who've moved on. Laughter. There was tons of laughter and many jokes to be told. Road construction has changed the face of our old stomping grounds causing many wrong turns, u-turns, and pulling into people's drive ways to figure out our direction. We owned the road, claimed it's snowy surface as our own. Our tire tracks were the sole tarnish on a canvas of white. Our drive began at 1:30 AM and ended at 5 AM. That's about the same time the freezing rain began.

Finallly back to the apartment, we laid down to rest three snickering children. Dreaming of the Waffle House's delicious breakfast fare. One friend said, "I need to go to the gym." The other two of us, said we'd drop him off....."on the way to the WAFFLE HOUSE! We'll wave at you from the window with a waffle stuffed in our mouths as your run on the treadmill!" Fits of laughter again. Silence. A sigh. Thoughts of the frozen scenes passing in the car window. Pillows soft - blankets warm. Drifting to sleep as a train, clackety-clack, goes by.

Our drive was needed. Our caccoon from the world. Friends are needed. There's no better way to relieve stress than many aimless hours driving. Laughter, personal histories, shared memories. Nope, there's no better way to spend a night......

"My sister is having a baby!"

Ok, that headline was misleading. She's actually already had the baby a boy, six and a half years ago. He's a bundle of...joy (most of the time). Sometimes he can be a bundle of barbed-wire - hard to handle! The reason I've been recollecting this event happens to be because I drove my grandma to Charlotte the moment we heard my sister went into labor. My sister had just moved from West Virginia to North Carolina in hopes to find freedom and herself. She found a husband, an embryo, and motherhood along the way.

I was 18 at the time and excited to be able to take road trips to visit my sister. We hadn't been too close growing up, as she is 5 years older than me, but as we grew older we found things in common, mainly eating out and the need to be on the go. It was wonderful news to hear her 9 months of strenuous pregnancy were soon to be over resulting in me being an uncle. I'd been living in Columbus then, and my grandmother lives in West Virginia, a couple hours away. After making the necessary arrangements to leave work early (it was Friday), borrowing a reliable vehicle from my mom (she isn't able to travel - agoraphobia), I was off!

I arrived in West Virginia to find my grandmother ready to go. We packed up her stuff, which includes a week's worth of clothes regardless of the length of the trip, because 'you never know
what could happen when you're away from home', a bag of her prescriptions to last months, many bottles which she hasn't taken for years, towels, and three rags in sandwich baggies (soapy, wet, dry) in case anyone spills something. I noticed Grandma was wearing house slippers with her slacks instead of her normal stylish shoes. I also noticed she was limping a bit. Inquiring what was wrong she said 'oh just a little sore on my toe'. I kind of shrugged it off in all of the excitement of the coming baby, not knowing, that to a diabetic foot problems wreck havoc.

Grandma corrected her posture for one last glance in the mirror before we set off on our trip. She was still a beautiful lady, as we always told her, she hadn't given in to the normal kinky perm that most grandma's get after a certain age. Her white hair was shoulder length, curled and scrunched at the ends, with hair spray and mousse to keep in place, of course!
She wore dark red lipstick, using the same lipstick as "rouge" to match her cheeks and lips.
I could see the joy on her face to be making this trip. It meant a lot to both of us. Grandma didn't drive and Grandpa no longer could as he was on heavy pain killers due to circulation problems
in his legs. She wasn't able to get out of the house much, because she was afraid to leave Grandpa alone in his condition, so this was a mini-vacation for her. For me, it was a chance to
prove my adulthood because it was the first long trip I was allowed to go on, and especially without another liscensed driver in the car. And ultimately it was her first great grand child, and my first nephew!

It's approximately 5 hours from Parkersburg, WV to Charlotte, NC, we passed the time talking about my new job at the long distance company. Grandma had also worked as a local phone operator in the 1940's, it was interesting to hear how much things had changed. She told me of her childhood, 'when people were poor and didn't know it', how meticulous her mother was in spite of her father's spontaneity, of growing up South Charleston during the war, while both parents worked at the plant, of walking with her father to see a movie while he went to night school, of her brothers and sister, of her previous marriage, of working at the state capitol, and of finally meeting my grandfather. How he asked her to marry him the first night they went on a date. Through all of this it made me realize how grandma thoroughly enjoyed living. How despite the hard times, there was always something to bring a smile to your face and that God is always
the center of true life then, now, and forever.

We arrived in Charlotte before my sister was too far into her labor, so we went ahead and found a hotel. I'd just started a new job, which paid well, so I checked us into the Marriott on Trade Street in Uptown. It was the first valet hotel grandma had been to so it was fun seeing her enthusiastic smiles. We rested for a minute then it was back to the hospital to sit for hours. Around 2 AM I was in dire need for sleep. Grandma said she'd stay and for me to go sleep since I'd have to drive us home the next evening.

In the wee hours of the morning, my nephew was born. Long, lanky little fellow. I snapped pictures with him and everyone and had someone take one with me and him. I was very nervous holding this baby, any baby for that matter, but such a little tiny newborn, I'd never held before. He was anxious to be born, my sister said he nearly fell on the floor while the doctor was turned around. I wondered if she named him Bryce out of homesickness because my parents had lived off of Brice Road in Columbus then. After a wonderful day of visiting and catching up with my sister it was the dreaded time to go. Departure before nightfall was a
necessity, because grandpa was calling on my cell phone worried about us. I think he really missed Grandma more than anything.

We said our good-bye's and started back home. We'd left with plenty of time to get home so we weren't in a hurry. When the exit for Mount Airy popped up, we decided to stop to see the town
where the Andy Griffith Show was based. Floyd's Barber Shop was still there! We had a stranger take our picture in front of the plate glass picture window bearing the famous location and went
back to the journey home. A few miles later was the exit for the Blue Ridge Parkway. I drove to the first scenic area south of the exit and pulled in. The view was astounding. You could see
the rolling hills and plains below unfolding for miles. I looked over at Grandma and she her bright eyes staring like a child full of wonder. I got out of the car to take pictures, but
grandma didn't. Her foot was hurting to bad to walk on from our previous trek through "Mayberry" so I helped her out onto the grass. We looked out in silence for a few minutes. Astonished at the beauty God created.

We again resumed our trip home. Making one last stop to eat at Tamarak in Beckley, West Virginia. For dessert I had pumpkin pie, grandma also had some sweet dessert, which she often did and wasn't supposed to.

Grandma made it back to Grandpa and I made it home. Six months later Grandma had a heart attack. Grandpa barely able to walk, and shaking from Parkinson's, managed to carry her to the couch and call 911. Grandpa was by her side in the local hospital sitting and holding her hand the whole time. But it was she needed to be life-flighted to the Charleston Area Medical Center for immediate heart surgery. Grandpa was beside himself and while we were all making our way to Charleston to be with Grandma, Grandpa's leg was turning cold and black. The next day
my uncle drove him to Columbus to see his vascular surgeon and pain doctor. Grandma came through her heart surgery alright, but went into an unsettling period of unconscious talking. She would ask with a smile on her face "Do you see Jesus?" then go back into her deep sleep.

During this period, grandpa's leg was amputated. Grandma asked where he was, and my aunt told her he was ok, but just needed to see the doctor for a few tests. Nobody thought it was a good time to tell her the complete story in that critical condition.

Eventually she learned what happened to Grandpa and they both recovered enough to be released. Not long afterwards I was promoted to a job in New York and moved away. I guiltily admit the physical separation from them was some sort of relief, not watching the weekly deterioration of their bodies, but each holiday visit made it that much harder to deal with until I'd removed my self emotionally, then covered it up with stress and bad habits of my own creation.

Grandpa was placed in a rest home because nobody could deal with him any longer. He'd been on morphine, delodid, and tylox for 10 years to help him through the pain the circulation problem caused and now he was without it. He became belligerent, angry, and down right cruel to Grandma. He'd bring up his past before he met Grandma, telling her of his affair with a Austrian ballerina, whom he could have a child with. Everyone thought this was a tall tale, but he ended up producing pictures and letters to back up his claim. Grandma's hurt came, not from his current state, but the fact that all these years he'd hidden these tokens of his past from her. He would also stiffen his body so that nobody could touch him and would lash out with his fists sometimes hitting people.

Grandpa wasn't the same after going the rest home. But there a couple of good times. On one visit during the holidays he had us all gather around the piano. Me and grandma played chop sticks and he laughed and laughed. I'm not sure if he was laughing because he was happy or because we were really bad at coordinating with each other. Either way we all laughed until our sides hurt. Grandpa decided to sing "Good Night Irene" for us at the top of his lungs while the other elderly people were eating. Some clapped, but most just looked in our direction dazed and confused. Grandpa especially got a kick out of his great grand child Bryce's mischief. When we'd have to chase the little 2 year old around the serving areas and into the kitchen Grandpa could hardly sit up from his belly laughter. The week after 9/11 my boss in New York allowed me to come home to see my family and work from our Ohio office. We thought it would be neat to surprise grandpa with my visit, but when he saw me he burst into tears. "I thought you were dead, I saw New York collapse, nobody told me...." He cried the whole time and I really didn't know what to do other than hold his hand. My aunt had called the rest home and told them to let him know I was ok during 9/11, either they failed to do so, or he forgot. And I'd felt so bad about moving away.

After I moved back from New York to Columbus in June 2002, the family took a vacation to Myrtle Beach. Grandpa and my mother weren't able to go, but mom kept Grandpa company. I was coming out of my addictions that I'd built up while in New York, so I'm not sure how pleasant I was to be around. The vacation was a sort of awakening for me. I remember bobbing around in waves up to my shoulders with my aunt and cousin telling hilarious "sinful" jokes, which was a "no-no" in front of everyone else. My aunt turned to the more serious conversation of Grandpa and his nearing death. He'd developed stomach cancer and the nurse had told her it may be a few months or a few weeks, but that he was in the last stages. Grandma knew before the vacation, but it seemed to hit her really hard the last 2 days that she'd "left him" for the vacation.

I drove her and my aunt back to Parkersburg and we went to visit grandpa. That was the last time I saw him.

On my 23rd birthday, July 25, I was celebrating with a couple friends at a live band venue downtown. I'd had a few too many drinks when my cell phone rang. I saw it was my mom, in the back of my mind I knew why she was calling. I found a quite alcove inside and she told me the news. Even though I knew it was coming, I didn't know how I'd take it until she actually said it. I burst into tears in the middle of the bar. My pain was real and it didn't matter who saw it. I was glad to be amongst friends at that moment, we sat at the table and they consoled me until I stopped crying, asking me questions about Grandpa. Using corny jokes or funny stories to plug up the tears. We stayed until the band was done and the rest of the wine was gone (mostly by me). I had to be driven back to Kate's apartment where my car was parked and we talked some more about life and death.

My sister called me on my cell phone and we spoke of fun times with grandpa. Like one New Year he let us cover him completely with streamers and left over Christmas ribbons or the time the Dr. Pepper exploded in the car and we all had to wash off in the creek. That night was the first and only time I've been drunk in front of my mother. She didn't say anything about that. She just hugged each other and she apologized that this had to happen on my birthday. I later would think it was more of a blessing and sometimes wonder if Grandpa chose that day to pass away, knowing it was significant to me.

The funeral was hard, but we made it through. I broke down again during the 21 gun salute. My dad was beside me and we hugged one another because I knew that sound always gave him flashbacks of Vietnam. For some reason those sounds just cemented the idea that there would be no more walks in the park, throwing ball, watching deer on the hillside, building canals in the stream, no more projects in the woodshed, no more war stories, no more CB chatter from his room. This was the last time I'd see his mortal body. But once those instant memories were through, a peace and joy came over me that Grandpa was in the presence of God. He was pain free. He was able to smile again. He was free to live forever.

Grandma grieved for a year, nearly two, through which time her health slowly faded. She's had 2 toes amputated and numerous other operations. She currently sits in a hospital, the circulation has stopped to one of her foot. We suspect she snuck into the kitchen or ate cakes on the down low, but other than what we see, nobody can be sure. The doctors haven't decided if they're going to need to amputate her foot. They think the antibiotic will stop the gangrene and they'll be able to cut out the dead parts leaving the foot intact. I'm about to call and find out the news.
I'm afraid to do so.

I keep reaching for the phone to call her, but find myself starring out the window looking at the snow silently falling. Thinking of Grandma and our trip to North Carolina. Thinking of her on the hill. Thinking that was somehow a first and last of many things. Thinking back to when this trouble with her foot manifested then. I'm blessed to still be able to talk to her.

I'm calling now...

Sunlight!

O dearest glowing bright orb in the sky! Your light is most appreciated! Yes! That's right the sun is out today and man has my mood changed. I'm not sure if anyone else is feeling the mid-winter blues from lack of sunlight, but I was. Until today.

Well, half my team went to lunch today to a place called Bellaccino's. Seriously, the food is excellent. I've been eating there for about a month and the Ruben makes my tummy clap, then flop. Or is that just my done-flop flapping against itself? Either way the food is GOOOOOD. Gimme more!

Uh oh, I just saw the manager I despise walk by. He's this prissy guy from another area. Anyhow, me and my buddy went down to get coffee one day and were walking back to our desks and Mr. Prissy Manager was behind us. I had worn my shirt untucked that day. My supervisor comes out about 10 minutes later and says, "I got a call from Mr. Prissy (not his real name) and he said you were violating the dress code. Please go tuck in your shirt". Well, why does he care? I don't even work for him or have interaction with any of his people. And....my manager doesn't care as long as our clothes aren't trashed out or stinky or whatever, which mine never are, because (earth to mars hello) I wash them! I heard that he's always busting guys for untucking their shirts. Now, who would really care unless he's really some sort of secret fashion/dress code police. Or he wants to see my buns of steel....make that cinnamon - I haven't worked out in a while. But tucking my shirt in sucks because when I was in 7th grade I made a pact that I wouldn't tuck in my shirt and be one of those preppy people that stunk up school with their arrogant stuck up ways. Here I am breaking my pact just for a job. So I made up a rhyme about the Mr. Prissy manager:

He looks like humpty dumpty
Cuz he's quite plumpty
In fact he's a blob.
What a job snob.
And when I work at this place
I want to smash my banana nut muffin in his face.
Cuz I walk down the hall with my shirt tails untucked
Mr. Prissy manager went boo-hoo-waaa-waay cluckety-clucke(d).

(Ouch, the nuts would grind like sandpaper)

I know that was very juvenille and immature. But I had fun! Have a wonderful 3 day weekend! Later!!!

Thoughts on Mediocrity

The quirkiness of being mediocre in a society plagued with the obsession of perfection is unknowingly the disease keeping the mediocre from taking over. The mediocre person believes they are not special and therefore have no need to strive for greatness thus trapping themselves in a world of sameness. Samenecity – a new word created for the overall feeling one gets when one is mediocre. I am a Samenecean, or one believing they are the same as all others. What makes me different? Nothing. What makes me the same? Everything. Can you see my eyes? Can you hear my voice. Do I have to hands, two legs, two ears? Yes. Well, you do too! You and I are the same though I am you born of a different bloodline. It’s not so complicated to contemplate that we are the same is it? Perhaps I am weird and in realizing this try to compare myself to others in hopes of becoming one with them. A blending of persons making one giant tapestry woven from our sameness. Uniformity, conformity, insanity. WHAT am I doing? Why would I want to be the same as a lunatic, a murderer, a suicidal maniac? Or how am I any different. I’ve thought crazy thoughts, I just didn’t act upon them. Is my normality resting on one decision, and theirs condemned by the opposite decision? Yes, yes it is. I can see that now. They have condemned themselves for breaking a mold of what society deems acceptable. Speaking of mold – this is the cheesiest thing I’ve ever written! HA

Involuntary Narcissistic Narcoleptic Selectio.

I'm sometimes vain. Ok, perhaps very vain.....aaand maybe not just sometimes. When I walk by a dark store front window I glance sideways to see how I look. When I'm in the elevator I look at my reflection in the metal doors. If there are no metal doors and nobody else is in there, the black plastic covering the floor indicator will suffice. When I'm in the bathroom and there's no mirror, I try to see me in the chrome piping on the flusher. I'm vain - insane vain. The sad thing happens to be that despite how good or how bad I look, I still require the same amount of looksies. If me like-y the way me lookie I make studly and seductive faces. If I look bad I make goofball faces and roll my lips up like a monkey.

I think I'm narcoleptic too. I sleep at work. I sleep when I visit my family. Funny thing - I don't sleep when I'm having fun. Is this disease I have called Selective Narcolepsy? I only sleep when I'm stressed or bored, or too full of food.

Vanity isn't deterred by narcolepsy. I wake up in the night and if there is just enough light and the TV is not on, my face appears on TV. Sure I can't make out details, but my imagination fills them in. I'm one sexy fella when I wake up.

On second thought, I'm delusional when I wake up!

I've created a name for my affliction: Involuntary Narcissistic Narcoleptic Selectio.

Dream a Little Dream for.....Dolly?

5:30 AM found me waking from the most bizarre dream of my life. How should I begin to relay this? First I'll give some background.........

I recently started a new job working trouble and customer service calls for a paging company. I know what you're thinking 'who has a pager these days?' Well, a bunch of weirdos, that's who. I mean these are major freaks calling that don't EVEN know how to put a battery in a pager! Anyway, back to the background of my dream....where was I? Oh yeah....so to work for a paging
company you have to go through training to know what system does who-ha, and what system sniffs a**-holes, and whatever else I never wanted to know in my LIFE. The training consists of 2 weeks sitting there with nerds, geeks, and a couple cool people for 8 hours from 4:30 PM to 12:30 AM. Meanwhile, at my day job, I was working 7:00 AM to 3:30 PM throughout the week. With the little spare time I had on Saturday and Sunday, I thought about taking voice lessons from this gal that I previously attended church with. I'm also in the process of moving to a new apartment. And....along the way somewhere, I think a Dolly Parton concert was in town.

Ok, so now you know the background essentials: training class, voice lesson lady, Dolly Parton, new apartment, wacky-wigged-out work hours.

The dream starts out in what appears to be a brand- spanking new office building. I'm walking down the hall exploring the modern, bland environment when out of a door marked SLEEPING ROOM comes my trainer from the night job. I'm like "Hi D, how are you?"..He says,"Tired, but I can't wait to relax in the company provided heated pool." My face contorts into a look of puzzlement, which cracks D up. Ironically, I can see myself making this face in the dream, but I think that's because I've spent way too much time making faces in the bathroom mirror. I follow D into a large room that resembles a school gymnasium. Except that, in the center of the room is a gigantic hot tub. The bubbles are small like a carbonated beverage, which was bizarre-o to say the least.

Fully clothed, we walk down a slope into the water and just float on our backs for a while. When I stop staring at the ceiling and look around the gymnasium, it is now full as if an assembly is about to begin. The carbonated, heated pool has disappeared along with D and now a 10 x 20 stage appears behind me. I turn back around and peer to the left. Through floor to ceiling windows taking up the whole wall, a black tour bus is visible pulling to the door. Out of the bus and into the gym-like room walks Dolly Parton, but instead of her normal mega-blonde wig, she's wearing a black wig styled in the same poofy 'do. "I needed a change" she says in her Southern drawl.

She hops on stage but nobody seems to recognize her so she pulls off her wig, throws it on the floor, as everyone watches it bounce like a rubber ball. Underneath the wig her hair looks like a dirty poodle all nappy and curly, squashed to her head. It reminds me of a trailer trash woman that doesn't feel like fussing with her hair so she buzzes it really short, then thinking she no longer needs to wash it allowing much grease to accumulate therein. In short, it was nasty looking!

Dolly decides the performance isn't going to work without her normal "good luck" blonde wig. She struts over to her assistant whose brought in giant hat box. Contained is her wig. She slowly lifts the golden locks as a mother would lift a newborn baby and places it on her skanky head.

At this point I'm sitting on a couch (I don't know how that got there) and Dolly comes over saying, "NOW, I can perform!" I hand her a microphone headset and she walks to the stage. The crowd is applauding and Dolly starts to sing. She looks at me in fright because the sound board hasn't been set properly and her voice sounds very small. I shrug and mouth "I know nothing about sound systems." Simultaneously, from the audience I see the voice lesson lady with a microphone start singing a song that somehow we knew was Dolly's newest hit. The audience shrieks again, and Dolly takes the lead, while the voice lesson lady does backup.

That's when I woke and sat straight up. Now.... can anyone interpret this dream for me?