my site meter is going to spin out of control with the title of this post. what can i say i’m a stats whore like that.

so i say to a friend, “gah, it’s only tuesday. i wish it was at least wednesday.” and he says, “why not friday”?

and i say, “i thought i’d have a greater chance of changing reality if i were less aggressive in my wishful thinking.”

what the fuck kind of strategy is that? aim low strategy? why don’t i dream big? if i took one of those carl jung and briggs myers personality tests i’d be a BINB (big imagination no balls).

speaking of dreams… in an attempt to treat my sacroiliac joint injury holistically i decided to get a massage. i thought this was really smart. massages don’t require any work on my part (like physical therapy) and they feel fanfuckingtastic (unlike chiropractic adjustments).

wrong-o. what the massage actually did was break-up all of these blockages in my body and release a shitload of toxins into my bloodstream. then they were delivered straight to my brain while i was sleeping and caused a fury of crude, depraved dreams. like beyond disturbing. like i’m going to tell you about a couple anyway.

in this one dream i had just learned that my friend elly had an office in her house where guests could stay, so i decided to visit. i was lying on the couch looking through a coffee table book featuring black and white photos of women engaged in sexual acts. kind of robert mapplethorpe but with beautiful women. i’m all these photos are very artistically composed while i flipped through the pages somewhat indifferently.

then a kitten comes up and starts licking between my legs. at first i kind of shooed it away. but then well… (i had no control over this, it was my id!) i mean my jeans we’re on and that sandpaper tongue didn’t feel all that bad on the outside. in fact it was warm with the just right pressure. next thing i know, the pictures in the book starting looking erotic and i began to stare at them more longingly. my muscles relaxed, juices flowed, and my hips responded …

i can’t even comprehend it either. you’re never coming back, are you?

then i had this other one where i dreamt there was a massive black hair growing on my boob and how could i not have discovered it before it reached this length:

yeah i have a porn star boob – perfectly round, upright and shit. it’s my drawing so i can represent my boob anyway i like.

what would carl jung and briggs myers think of me now?

ps: i’m sorry this is the only interesting thing that happened in my life this week.

pss: elly, i promise mildred wasn’t involved.