It looks good. So good I’m black and blue. From pinching myself, ya know. Jester is the coolest dude ever. Even if he isn’t the token gay on my blogroll. That’s David from BellyDaddy. Heh. Jester would be my token WP guru. Like the Absurdist, I overpaid him. But that’s because he needs lessons from William Shatner. He’s not very good at this negotiating thing. I’m poor, but even I can afford Jester! Wait. That didn’t come out right. I wonder if UMB is gonna come after me now? Hee hee.
So the dreaming thing is twofold today. First of all, there’s the new house here and the pinching thing. Second, I had my first dream about a blogger and it wasn’t about Fab or Dave. It was about Matt-Man! I’ll get to the dream in a moment. The third thing, is about why I have to go to work today. I keep asking myself, “Am I dreaming? This is nuts. I’m actually going to the office on a Saturday, after I spent two mornings this week at home recharging my batteries?”
Now, I’m gonna be all pooped out again. Check out the Spewage site later today for deets on why I’m going to work today. It’s nothing bad about the company I work for, but I’d rather say this in private. If you don’t know about Spewage, email me.
My Matt-Man dream began with the PITA and I at a Sonic or In-N-Out type burger place. We were devouring mass quantities of yummy hamburgers oozing with cheese and sauce and grease. Matt comes up and sits down next to us. He’s got a cigarette hanging from his mouth (in the restaurant even! gasp!), and he’s wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt and sunglasses. He sticks out one leg and turns it so we can see the back of it. There’s this huge bruise there. The PITA and I gasp.
“What the hell happened to you?” I ask him.
He makes a typical man sound, that half grunt, half disgusted, half “I don’t know how I get myself in these situations” kind of sound. Then he says, “I should have Fab’s tagline. Some bozo tried to kill me.”
The PITA frowns, while munching french fries. “Why would someone want to kill you? Your sense of humor isn’t THAT bad.”
Matt shrugs. “He said his wife was a blogger. She fell in love with my Half Nekkid Thursday pics. He called me a homewrecker.”
The PITA and I look at each other with wide eyes. “Well, how did he try to kill you? Maybe it was some kind of mistake,” I say, not wanting to think that someone would really try to kill Matt.
Matt shakes his head, and ash falls from his cigarette. “I don’t think there was any kind of mistake. He came right at me, his little old Volkswagen rattletrap bug shaking like it had never seen 30 mph before. He was screaming ‘Matt-Man must die!’ out the window.” Matt shrugs again. “He was trying to kill me.”
“Woah,” the PITA murmurs reverently, reaching for her strawberry shake. “Killed for your blog. What a headline.”
Matt stands up and puts out his cigarette on the fomica table top. He rolls his shoulders and looks at the big black bruise on the back of his leg. “It’s a good thing that guy drives an ancient Volkswagen instead of an Escalade or I’d be bumming smokes off of James Dean.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ll catch you all later. I’ve gotta put together my next HNT. I was thinking of having my pic taken on a bulldozer while wearing only my boxers. Just to sort of solidify my position as a homewrecker. Cheers!”
And then he was gone. The PITA looks at me and I tell her, “The things people will do for their blog.”
My daughter snorts. “Not just the blog, Mom. I would totally do some girl in front of Dave for a pack of his playing cards.”
Then I woke up. It was quiet in my house. But I could have sworn I smelled In-N-Out burgers in my bedroom.