Scenes from Insomnia

As I have been talking about incessantly lately to anyone who will stay still for three milliseconds, I've been suffering (SUFFERING!) from insomnia. It's a side effect of my (lovely and amazing) brain pills, and I've been soldiering through, since I'd rather be awake and sane than sleepy and bonkers. However, when one hits around 72 hours straight of wakefulness, sanity becomes a distant memory. I offer this entry as a deep and heartfelt apology to all and any of my friends, who really must be deleting my screen name from their IM clients as we speak. As well they should.

Things that seem like a super idea at 4 AM, which are in actuality never a super idea, not even a little:

1. Walking into town in overalls, a sports bra, and a studded collar.
2. Knitting five bags, three hats, and a set of fingerless gloves
3. Which is appropriate, since my hands are falling off from the incessant knitting
4. Taking pictures of self looking like Trainspotting 2: Even More Attractive
   
5. Making a pot of coffee, because why the hell not?
6. Or two pots.
   
7. Writing what seem to be utterly brilliant blog entries and MamaPop articles, only to realize they are more like "manifestos" and "not spelled correctly, even a little bit"
8. Listening to Joy Division
9. Hysterically crying
10. IMing with unsuspecting friends:

missbanshee: I'm walking into town!
friend of banshee: That is a spectacularly bad idea.
missbanshee: I can't stay still! I'm out of yarn! Gotta walk!
FOB: No walking. Shut the door and get in the bed.
missbanshee: The bed has shunned me. Like the Amish. I shall never lie in the bed again!
FOB: Well fine. The couch then. Shut the door, LOCK THE DOOR, and sit on the couch.
missbanshee: Is that a direct order?
FOB: YES. Yes, that is a direct order. Uh...obey me!
missbanshee: That is so sexy.

Of course, there are other things that happen to one's brain on no sleep. Things become very black and white. (And pretty colors, after the 48 hour mark, but that's neither here nor there.) Situations, people and things are reduced to being paralyzingly funny or horrifically awful. Non-sequitors abound. Y'all? No one is ever going to talk to me ever again.

4:23 AM

FOB: I really need to go to sleep, dude. It's past 1 AM.
missbanshee: WHAT? You're three hours behind me! Suck it up, California person! Let's vacuum under my bed.
FOB: What? Let's NOT. You have neighbors, remember? Neighbors who will kill you if you start running the vacuum at 4 in the damn morning.
missbanshee: *lower lip quivering* My bedroom is so dusty. You know why? Because it's LONELY. My bed has never had anyone in it but ME. No one loves me! I'm going to die alone and no one will know until the STENCH from my DECOMPOSING CORPSE permeates my WHOLE BUILDING. *sobs*
FOB: Oh jeez. Um...uh...Hey, would vacuuming make you feel better? Why don't you vacuum. That's a great idea.
missbanshee: No, that's stupid. It's 4 AM! I'm going to scrub the kitchen floor.
FOB: Perfect.

So yeah. I've been a delight to be around. Now that I'm on the equivalent of a horse tranquilizer (thanks, doc!) and getting some sleep, I see what I've been doing, and, to everyone I have tormented within an inch of their unsuspecting lives as of late? I'm really, really sorry. Please forgive me. I've knitted you a pantsuit in gratitude!

Now if you'll excuse me, the contents of my freezer aren't going to alphabetize themselves, you know.

Today's Actual Conversation: Tough Love With the Internet

Me: Internet, we need to talk.

Internet: Well, come sit by me, baby. What's on your pretty little mind?

Me: I'm not falling for it today. The platitudes, the lovey-speak. I can't do it. This relationship...it's just not healthy. Something has to change.

Internet: I don't know what you're talking about, angel-face. You know I love you!

Me: Oh, I love you so much! I lo-Wait. Wait, no, we really need to talk. Stop doing that.

Internet: What am I doing, my precious little cupcake, other than worshiping and adoring you?

Me: You're making me lose focus. Look, some shit has gone down in the last week that makes me think that maybe you're punishing me a little bit. In a very passive-aggressive way. I've written down some examples...

Internet: You didn't cheat on me with Word, did you? I thought I corrupted that program for good this time.

Me: No, Word isn't working right no-Hey! What did you just say???

Internet: I said that you look utterly irresistible in those overalls.

Me: Oh, okay, aw, thank you...Wait, dammit! I'm trying to make a point here! Okay, so here's some points I wanted to make regarding some shady behavior on your part that I've noticed lately.

Internet: I'm all ears, my sweet love.

Me: Sigh. Okay. Now, yesterday for example. You let those hackers into my site, my beloved bloggity blog, and they redirected my stats counter to a Russian mail order bride website. I lost everything! Why did you do that? Is this because I can't seem to decide on a browser? I always come back to Firefox, you know that.

Internet: When you do that, I don't know from day to day which shoes to wear to compliment my browser. It's confusing.

Me: The internet wears shoes?

Internet: FABULOUS shoes. Hey baby, let's stop talking about this and go look at shoes. Look, I've got Zappos aaaaaall bookmarked for you. My treat.

Me: Ooooooh, yeah, let's see what's new for fall...NO! No, we're not looking at shoes. We're talking about our relationship!

Internet: How about pants? I love you so much, baby. Let me show you some pants that will make your ass look FANTASTIC.

Me: Oh, pants...NO! No, and this is another point I wanted to make! My credit card cannot take it, with all the books and music and dvds and shoes and pants! I am unemployed, Internet, you KNOW that! It's all I can do to scrounge the money to keep you CONNECTED every month! And all you do is enable me to buy things I can't afford! The Program talks about enablers, you know. We just...we can't go on like this. It's not healthy.

Internet: You know, as you've been adorably rambling, four of your friends have changed their Facebook statuses, and you've got seventeen new RSS stories to read.

Me: Oh, CRAP! Okay, lemme check. Hey, do you think I'll get some nice comments on my last post? Oh, and I uploaded a bunch of new pictures to Flickr, better check that too, and oh, hold on, it's my turn on Scrabble, and I've got MamaPop comments to read...

*MANY, MANY HOURS PASS*

Internet: *smokes cigarette with a satisfied and sated grin*

Me: *looks blearily around for all the time and energy I have misplaced, like underpants after a one night stand*

Me: What was I saying? I feel like I was saying something before.

Internet: You were just telling me how much you love me. And I love you too, baby. I'm not like the others, my darling. I'll never ever leave you. Now stop worrying that pretty little head of yours and let's go find some precious little jewelry with charms that look like sushi rolls.

Me: You're right...I don't know what I was thinking. I love you too, Internet. Are you...sure I wasn't saying something before?

Internet: Shhhhh, my darling. Shhhhhhhhhhh...

Today's Actual Conversation: Insane and In Motion!

My poor common sense, guys. She is SO patient and SO abused. Like, Valerie Bertanelli in a Lifetime movie abused. Here's a conversation I had with Common Sense today. Tragic.

Scene: Driving home. Music blaring, windows open, our heroine is bopping along to Boston punk rawk and waving a cigarette around in time with the music, swigging her eleventieth cup of coffee, and careening through lunchtime traffic. Common Sense rides shotgun, seatbelt securely fastened, helmet with mouth guard in place, wearing hockey pads, with rosary beads clutched in one hand, her last will and testament in the other.

Me: *slamming steering wheel repeatedly* The goddamn horn is broken! *slam slam slam* How am I to express my displeasure at these knobs' driving skills without the *slam* horn? *slam*

Common Sense: Okay, I understand you've only had this car for a year and a half...

Me: *SLAM SLAM WHACK* What? Can you believe this idiot? Green means GO, jackass! Put up a Post-It or something!

CS: Like I said, I realize you've only had the Kia for less than two years, but-

Me: Her name is BLOODREIGNE. We've talked about this before. She's a 2002 Kia for chrissakes. I have to emphasize her badassery if I'm ever going to hear the end of The Mocking.

CS: Well, it does-

Me: She.

CS: *sigh* She does get very good gas mileage. Your friends certainly can't mock that, with fuel prices being what they are in these trying times.

Me: Bloodreigne is to be FEARED. Mere humans should gaze upon her in AWE. She doesn't NEED expensive gas! She runs on the souls of the non-believers! Muahahahahaa! OH. Really? We're gonna go 7 miles under the speed limit, dude-in-a-Mercedes? Really?! *whacks steering wheel again* See?? It's BROKEN! I hear NO BEEPING!

CS: What I was trying to say is that I know change is hard for you, and that's something we're working on, and getting a new car after having the Chevy for so long-

Me: BLUE LIGHTNING!!! *begins weeping*

CS: Oh dear. I'm sorry. You have to remember that Blue was very very old, and she never could have made it all the way to Georgia back when we moved there. She went to a good home! A farm in the country! Where she could play with all the other Chevys!

Me: *sniffles* I loved Blue, you know. She was my constant companion. My bosom friend. HER horn worked, sorta! *weeps noisily*

CS: Now I really must insist that you stop crying and pay attention to - Please stop fiddling with the iPod and drive properly!

Me: You got me upset. I don't like talking about Blue Lightning. The wound is too fresh. I need to find a song that accurately expresses my pain at the loss. What the hell were you babbling about again? OH. JUST PULL OUT IN FRONT OF ME. LOVELY. I HOPE YOU GET EBOLA. *slam slam slam* DAMMIT! Why isn't this horn working?

CS: *takes deep breath* Do you see the two small buttons on either side of the steering wheel?

Me: Oh, yeah, they're right here. Hey, they've got little horns on them-

CS: WATCH THE ROAD.

Me: Well, you told me to look!

CS: Yes. Two buttons with little horns on them. Coincidentally enough, they represent the horn, which will sound if you press the horn-labeled buttons. Which you could easily reach if your hands were at 10 and 2 where the driver's manual says they should be, instead of holding a filthy cigarette in one and the iPod in the other, and you were not actually driving with your knee.

Me: Oh. So what have I been doing all this time when I was trying to beep the horn?

CS: You've been repeatedly and viciously punching the air bag.

Me: Ahhhhh. Probably shouldn't do that, huh?

CS: *adjusts chin-strap on helmet, tightens seat belt.* Well, dear, we take things one step at a time. At least now you know.

Me: And knowing is half the battle!

CS: And tomorrow you're on your own. I'm taking the bus.

"Filled With Shame" Doesn't Begin To Cut It.

The dvd player is fixed. I am so embarrassed I cannot even form words. I cannot even share what the problem was, people. It's THAT humiliating. Let's just say this brief exchange occurred.

Me: Still broken! Wah! Window! Out it! *click click click* The remote does nothing!

BrotherBanshee: That's because THAT remote is for the TV you had in HIGH SCHOOL.

Me: Nooooooooooooo.

BrotherBanshee: Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeees. Idiot.

Me: Oh. You know, this situation is not entirely unexpected.

Today's Actual Conversation: At least I didn't electrocute myself. Yet.

Happy birthday to me! I am now 31 years of age as of June 30th, and still utter kryptonite to electronics. Behold!

mcclainx: You need to watch this movie "Once." Go rent it. Rent it today.

missbanshee: I will do that! Wait a minute, let me make sure the dvd player is working, for, as you know, technology hates me.

*insert dvd. Whir whir whir. No picture whatsoever.*

DVD Player: Haha. No movies for you, jerky. Lookit me! I work! See the numbers? I'm playing the dvd; you're just not allowed to watch it. Neener!

Me: Hmm. This cannot be right. *presses various buttons on various remotes. Absolutely nothing happens.* Well, that was worth a shot.

missbanshee: Nothing is happening. The dvd player is broken. I will now chuck it out the window.

mcclainx: You will not. Is it plugged in?

missbanshee: YES, it is plugged in. My darling Amir showed me the error of my ways regarding that. It's plugged in. Oh wait. There's a pluggy thing that's missing. It should be a color. A yellow pluggy thing is missing. Broken! Out the windee!

mcclainx: Go to Radio Shack, foolio.

missbanshee: Okay! I shall do just that! Radio Shack is right across the street from Blockfucker. So...Convenient!

*several weeks pass*

mcclainx: Did you watch that movie yet?

missbanshee: Nope. The dvd player is broken, remember? And you wouldn't let me throw it out the window?

mcclainx: Oh my god, go to Radio Shack. For serious.

*Another week passes. I want to get a bellydancing dvd. (Did I mention I'm learning how to belly dance? I am. The things I do for blog fodder.) I try the dvd player again, hoping the technology fairy has visited during the night.*

DVD Player: You've got to be kidding me.

The Entire World: GO TO RADIO SHACK. My GOD, woman, it's a miracle you can leave the house without a HELMET.

Me: I think I shall go to Radio Shack.

*At Radio Shack. An adorable dude with a complicated haircut assists me.*

Me: A yellow pluggy thing. So I can belly dance!

Adorable Dude: Forgot your helmet today, huh?

*I procure the pluggy thing (yellow!) and the dvds. I skipper home.*

Me: Oh, I am so smart. I will now plug in the yellow pluggy thing and everything will be rainbows and unicorn glitter.

*plug in pluggy thing. As everyone, including my dead grandmother can guess, absolutely nothing happens. Immediately hop on internet, with no regard to the fact that my friends are at work and not technical support.*

missbanshee: Nothing is happening! The pluggy thing! It does nothing!

mcclainx: *sigh*

*I frantically take pictures of the back of my TV and DVD player, and email them to my long-suffering friend.*

mcclainx: Still figuring out the focus on that camera, huh?

missbanshee: We need to FOCUS on the dvd player!

mcclainx: Ok, you need a router, so blah blah technical stuff blah blah blah.

missbanshee: Sorry, I was thinking about cute bellydancing outfits. And unicorns.

mcclainx: I will travel the 3000 miles it will take to throw you out a window.

DVD Player: Whir! Whir! Still perfectly fine! I just hate you! Because I am made of shin-kicks and paper cuts!

Me: Wah.

So I'll ask my brother, the Dumbledore of electronics, to look at the damn thing. Because I know I will have to have a very firm conversation with the belly dancing dvd. If I don't break my neck first.

Today's Actual Conversation: Fill 'er up!

Scene: I frantically look for gas that is less than four dollars a gallon. Spotting a station that is boasting $3.89, I careen across four lanes of traffic and pull up to the pump. Being a good Jersey girl, I wait for the attendant. Jersey girls never pump their own gas. (Ok, no one in Jersey pumps their own gas. One of the myriad perks of living in the Garden State.) Enter gas attendant.

Me: Hi! Fill it with regular, please.

Gas Station Guy: Ay, mami. Habla usted Espanol?

Me: Uh...A little...Un poquito. Muy, muy poquito.

GSG: *laughs* I teach you, mami. I teach you good.

Me: Yeah...uh, here's my card.

GSG: *ignores my outstretched credit card* I teach you after we get married. You marry me, mami? Usted esta tan caliente. You so hot.

Me: *nervous laughter* Uh...gracias. Here's my card.

GSG: *takes card, starts pumping gas. From the back of the car, he's still talking.* Caliente, mami! You marry me, okay?

Me: *I do not respond, as I watch the dollar signs clang on the gas pump. Wide eyed from horror at the price tag of this tank of gas, which would be plenty for me to live on for a week in different circumstances, I finally realize he is STILL TALKING.*

Me: Huh?

GSG: *handing my wounded credit card back* We get married, mami. I take care of you. Te quiero, hermosa señora. I love you.

Me: *pauses* Would I get free gas?

Because it's too good to not repeat...

In honor of the New Kids on the Block (NKOTB if you're nasty) reunion, I just HAVE to re-post an extraordinary IM conversation from way back between K-Bat and myself, wherein a chance encounter dissolves into discussing punk rock history with Jordan Knight, inviting him to go to K-Bat's office Christmas party, and ultimately convincing him to commit suicide. So without further ado, Ladies and Gentleman: The Jordan Knight Conversation.
-------------------------------------

KristaBat: i'm drunk.
missbanshee: you are!??
KristaBat: still.
missbanshee: Heh
missbanshee: awesome
KristaBat: from last night.
missbanshee: very nice
KristaBat: guess who i made friends w/ last night?
missbanshee: who?
KristaBat: JORDAN
KristaBat: FUCKING
KristaBat: KNIGHT
missbanshee: Shut. The fuck. Right. Up.
KristaBat: ha ha hahahhhaaa!
missbanshee: HAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA
KristaBat: i was so fucking drunk and he was at the
linwood.
KristaBat: and i pretended i didn't know who he was!
missbanshee: that is fucking AWESOME!
KristaBat: i was like, "did you go to emerson? you
look really familiar"
missbanshee:
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!
missbanshee: You fucking RULE
KristaBat: and then i talked to him about like, fugazi
and shit
KristaBat: HA!
missbanshee: oh my holy god, that is the funniest thing
of all time
KristaBat: i'm laughing SO hard right now. all by
myself. at work.
missbanshee: how gee-ross is he now?
KristaBat: fat.
KristaBat: and wearing like, swishy pants
missbanshee: Oh my GOD
missbanshee: this is the greatest story of all fucking time
KristaBat: fucking JORDAN KNIGHT!
KristaBat: HAHHHHHAAAA!@
missbanshee: Swishy pants!
missbanshee: Fat!
missbanshee: At the Linwood!
missbanshee: With YOU!!!!
missbanshee:
HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA
missbanshee: oh nmy god, it;s so funny i might shit my
pants
missbanshee: My mouth, it hangs open
KristaBat: i'm like, crying right now.
missbanshee: That is so fucking unbelievable
KristaBat: HA!
missbanshee: Ha! You talked about Fugazi with Jordan
fucking Knight!!!!!!
KristaBat: oh god.
missbanshee: HAHAHAHAHHHHAHAHAHHA
KristaBat: yeah i was like, " NKOTB? that's so funny
that you were in that group...
missbanshee: HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
KristaBat: and i totally pretended like i DIDN'T know
every word to every song...
missbanshee: WHICH YOU DO!
KristaBat: I KNOW!
KristaBat: i swear, my sister was going to crap
herself.
missbanshee: MEEM WAS THERE?!?!?!!
missbanshee:
WAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA!
KristaBat: YES!
missbanshee: I'm openly weeping with the laughter
KristaBat: oh my god, i'm crying. i tried to make him
come to CHARLIE'S!
missbanshee: STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!!!!!!!!
KristaBat: oh myh god, i'm CRYING!!!
missbanshee: Did he put those sweet sweet NKOTB
moves on you?
KristaBat: alas, no, i don't think he did.
missbanshee: I'd quote lyrics, but I honestly always
hated them
KristaBat: or he may have..
missbanshee: perhaps he's gee
KristaBat: i really don't remember,
KristaBat: could be gee.
KristaBat: HA!
missbanshee: swishy pants, after all
KristaBat: true dat.
KristaBat: i'm so not doing work right now.
missbanshee: This? Is the greatest thing ever
missbanshee: Dude. Jordan motherfucking Knight. You
should have asked him if Danny still looks like a chimp.
missbanshee: "So Jordan, do you, in the privacy of your
own home, like, still dress up in your 8-Ball leather
jacket and acid-washed jeans and try to remember all
the old choreography?"
KristaBat: oh.
KristaBat: my,
KristaBat: god.
missbanshee: "Do you call Donnie and try to get him to
hook you up with some poon?"
missbanshee: "He was really good in all those movies.
He's been in a lot of movies, Donnie has. Did you go
see them?"
KristaBat: dude. stop!
KristaBat: HA!
missbanshee: "I heard Joey's on a tv show, Jordan.
Have you seen Joey on the tv show? Like, every week
he's on it."
KristaBat: HA!
KristaBat: i'm like, laughing maniacally right now.
missbanshee: "Dude, at least you don't look like a
chimp, Jordan. That's all I'm saying."
missbanshee: "Jordan, please stop crying."
KristaBat: AHHHHH!
KristaBat: i wish i remembered more of what actually
happened.
missbanshee: I'm fine with making it up...
KristaBat: fucking JORDAN KNIGHT!!!
missbanshee: HAHAHAHAHAHAHHA
KristaBat: so SO funny.
KristaBat: oh god.
missbanshee: Utter brilliance.
KristaBat: dude.
KristaBat: must do work now.
missbanshee: Yeah, cut and paste this fucker and send
it to Joe
missbanshee: Your Joe, not Joey McIntyre
missbanshee: although with your new connection with
Jordan, I'm sure we could get it to him too
KristaBat: i definitely called him last night about it.
missbanshee: check all your pockets for the digits,
dude.
KristaBat: HA!
KristaBat: oh my GOD.
missbanshee: "Krista, it was so good to meet you.
Please don't go, girl. Love and kisses, Jordan Knight.
PS: Please call me. Please. PLEASE.
KristaBat: oh my god. please... don't go girl...
please... don't go girl...
missbanshee: I'm collapsing with laughter
KristaBat: jordan and jon.
KristaBat: yeah
KristaBat: c'mon
missbanshee: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
missbanshee: You know ALL THE LYRICS.
KristaBat: we got a funky funky christmas goin on
missbanshee: You had a denim jacket COVERED
WITH PINS
missbanshee: you kissed them EVERY DAY
KristaBat: i'm crying.
KristaBat: i liked joe the best though
missbanshee: You whispered your secrets into your
JORDAN KNIGHT PILLOWCASE
KristaBat: i'm convulsing.
missbanshee: Joey? He was a FETUS! And
GEE-ROSS
KristaBat: i can't even breathe
missbanshee: Holy shit, you should have taken Jordan
Knight back to Big House
KristaBat: oh my god.
missbanshee: casually walked into the living room in
your NKOTB pajamas
KristaBat: "what? these old things?"
missbanshee:
BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA
missbanshee: You could take Jordan Knight to
ManRay
KristaBat: stop.
KristaBat: or my christmas party.
missbanshee: "Cusraque, this is my very dear friend
Jordan Knight"
KristaBat: oh MYGOD! the tears!
missbanshee: Cusraque goes apoplectic, cause you
know he was a closet NKOTB lover
missbanshee: Taking Jordan Knight to The Model...
missbanshee: I'm going to pee myself
KristaBat: yeah dude. that would have been too
much for the model to handle.
KristaBat: like, jordan knight and amy mann would
have been in the same room.
missbanshee: "So, Jordan Knight, since I'm assuming
your schedule is rather sparse, do you want to come to
my office Christmas party?"
KristaBat: it's at the science museum. i like science.
do you like science?
missbanshee: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
KristaBat: liking science is funny.
missbanshee: Asking Jordan Knight if he likes science is
funnier
KristaBat: sayign jordan knight over and over is the
funniest thing EVER.
missbanshee: EVER
KristaBat: dude.
KristaBat: oh god.
missbanshee: I'm going to have a heart attack
KristaBat: i must do work.
KristaBat: but i can't.
missbanshee: NO! Jordan Knight doesn't want you to
do work!
missbanshee: Please don't go, girl!"
KristaBat: but then i'll never get to leave this
godforsaken place.
KristaBat: you're my popsicle.
KristaBat: from the very first time i met you girl you
KristaBat: cap
KristaBat: tured me.
KristaBat: HA!
missbanshee: "Hey, Jordan Knight, can you make my
Christmas party a very funky one?"
KristaBat: so good!
missbanshee: I'm in danger of losing all bodily functions
missbanshee: "Hey Jordan Knight! You made me shit
myself!"
KristaBat: HA!
missbanshee: "I must say, Jordan Knight, that's pretty
punk rock"
KristaBat: he WAS at the linwood after all.
KristaBat: i
KristaBat: am
KristaBat: crying
missbanshee: "I like punk rock. Do you like punk rock,
Jordan Knight?"
KristaBat: do you like FUGA-21? i like FUGA-21.
missbanshee: "Hey, Jordan Knight, so can we talk
about how Donnie is like, hot and rugged and in tons of
tv shows and movies and has lots of tattoos and is
probably getting more poon than he knows what to do
with?"
KristaBat: hot and rugged.
KristaBat: Jordan Knight is such a loser!
KristaBat: HA!
KristaBat: oh shit.
missbanshee: "Hey! Hey, Jordan Knight, what about
that solo career? Do you remember the video with the
ferris wheel, Jordan Knight? I do."
KristaBat: You know what Jordan Knight?
KristaBat: You've got the right stuff.
KristaBat: baby.
missbanshee: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
KristaBat: love the way you turn me on.
missbanshee: The right stuff to make me pee myself
laughing...
KristaBat: you got the right stuff.
KristaBat: baby.
KristaBat: you're the REASON WHY I SING THIS
SONG.
KristaBat: what??!?!?!
missbanshee: "Hey, Jordan Knight, just thinking about
you made me throw up a little."
KristaBat: don't worry. i swallowed it.
missbanshee: I did that for you, Jordan Knight
missbanshee: You know what, K-Bat?
KristaBat: ?
missbanshee: You've got the right stuff, baby
KristaBat: shut.
KristaBat: up.
KristaBat: oh
KristaBat: oh
KristaBat: oh
KristaBat: oh
KristaBat: oh
KristaBat: HA!
KristaBat: dude. i know the fucking DANCE
missbanshee: "Well, look at it this way, Jordan Knight.
You could always hang yourself like Jonathan Brandis.
People would remember you then."
missbanshee: "Never forget about suicide, Jordan
Knight,"
KristaBat: it's really the only way.
missbanshee: It's really your only option, Jordan
Knight.
KristaBat: killllllll
missbanshee: Do it, Jordan Knight. Get the rope.
KristaBat: here Jordan Knight, let me kick that chair
out from under you...
missbanshee: You have nothing to live for anymore,
Jordan Knight. Go with a little dignity. On your own
terms and all
missbanshee: Do it.
KristaBat: i mean, you're already wearing swishy
pants...
KristaBat: who cares if you shit yourself...
missbanshee: there's nowhere to go now but down
missbanshee: you're already giving hummers for crank,
Jordan Knight, don't think we don't know
KristaBat: i'm in a band called hummers for crank.
KristaBat: do you want to be in my band?
missbanshee: HAHAAAAAAAAAAAAA
missbanshee: crying again...
KristaBat: here, Jordan Knight, have a tambourine.
missbanshee: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
KristaBat: i don't think i've laughed this hard in
YEARS.
missbanshee: Shake that thang, Jordan Knight.
missbanshee: neither have I
missbanshee: I can barely see
KristaBat: me either.
KristaBat: i have so much work to do too!
KristaBat: HA!
missbanshee: SO DO I!
missbanshee: ARGH!
missbanshee: a little bit
KristaBat: JORDAN!
KristaBat: what a fucking gay-ass name!!
KristaBat: dude.
missbanshee: Well, think of it this way. Even as he's
swinging from a noose, covered in his own poo...
missbanshee: At least he didn't look like a chimp.
KristaBat: when he was in NKOTB he used to have
to go out and wear "a hat and glasses"
KristaBat: so girls wouldn't recognize him.
missbanshee: Krista, he had to travel INCOGNITO
missbanshee: Like a SPY
missbanshee: Jordan Knight, were you really a spy?
KristaBat: and last night i was totally talking to him
about like Husker Du and Bob Mould's solo career!
missbanshee: Did he have ANY idea what you were
talking about?
KristaBat: NO!
KristaBat: HA!
missbanshee: I can't believe he OUTED himself as
JORDAN KNIGHT
missbanshee: I would have been like, uh, my name's
Bob
KristaBat: i KNOW!
he was like, "i was the LEAD SINGER in new kids on
the block..."
KristaBat: HA!
missbanshee: STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
missbanshee: "Seriously, Jordan Knight, it's time to get
the gun."
KristaBat: i'm going to fall out of my chair.
KristaBat: okay.
KristaBat: work.
missbanshee: we need to stop
missbanshee: for a bit
KristaBat: more later.
missbanshee: saving conversation...now
KristaBat: yes.
KristaBat: me too!
missbanshee: HA!
KristaBat: oh god.

Today's Actual Conversation: Customer Service Edition!

Scene: CVS checkout. Feeling rather fabulous in my kick ass new t-shirt (thanks, Krista!!!) that reads: "Rehab is the New Black." All I want is to pay for my contact lens solution and a pack of cigarettes and proceed with my day. No such luck.

Wonky-Eyed Cashier: *hushed weird whisper* Your shirt...Rehab is the New Black...I don't get it.

Me: Oh, it's a joke-

WEC: Is that...like...when black people call other black people n---

Me: NO! No no no! It's like "pink is the new black" or "skinny jeans are the new black" or something - it's a joke!

WEC: So...it's a racial thing?

Me: Jesus, NO! Nothing like that!!! It's a FASHION thing, don't you watch Project RUNWAY, it's a joke, oh my GOD.

WEC: Oh...I don't get it. Do you need matches?

Me: I am so blogging about this.

Today's Actual Conversation: Happy Mother's Day!

And she wonders why I blog about her.

Happy Mother's Day, mama. Thank you for this conversation.
Scene: Kitchen. Dad is "making breakfast", which translates to destroying the kitchen like a whirling dervish, using every single pan, plate, and utensil, and almost setting the kitchen ablaze. Mom and I look on in horror. Over the din of crashing flatware, this conversation arises.

Mom: We're supposed to use...chee-a-bata? Cee-a-a bata bread?
Me: Ciabatta.
Mom: C-eye-a-bata? Cia-Obama?
Me: (head in hands) Ciabatta.
Mom: Cymbalta?
Me: That's an antidepressant. Ciabatta. It's Italian.
Mom: Chewy-bacca?
Me: That's a Wookie. CIABATTA. CIABATTA. CIABATTA.
Mom: (triumphant) It's like Star Wars bread!
Me: Mom, why don't you sit down before you hurt yourself.

Today's Actual Conversation: Well Played, Mom

Bless her, sometimes she plays along. And the results? COMEDY!

Mom: Can you believe the process it takes to get a freaking box of Sudafed? I had to show my driver's licence!

Me: *withering stare*

Mom: What?

Me: You know, Mom, the cops are only going to give you so many chances.

Mom: What are you talking about?

Me: I've told you a thousand times to move it. Someday you're going to get sloppy and blow up the whole damn house.

Mom: I have no idea what you are talking about.

Me: Stop the denial, Mom. Everyone knows. And using your own product? I can't condone that. You've got a real problem. And I can't bail you out this time.

Mom: Are you running a fever?

Me: Let's focus on you, Mom. I'm only going to say this one more time. Move the meth lab. Seriously. Move it today.

Mom: *small, wounded voice* But...that's how I make my money!

Actual Conversation: I Live In A Sitcom

Steve Sr: DARNELL!!!

Me: Actually, my name is Danielle. You've only known me for almost 16 years, and I only LIVE with you, in your freaking HOUSE, so I can understand where there is some confusion. But yeah, DANIELLE. That is my name. It's not new.

Steve Sr: WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO THIS MACHINE?!?!?!

Me: Gosh, I dunno. Maybe I spent several hours fixing all the crap you did to your computer during the five minutes you spent on said computer, as I do EVERY DAY, due to the fact that I have been saying for OVER A YEAR that you are KRYPTONITE to electronics, your computer is a piece of crap, and I'm actually not here right now. Please leave a message. PLEASE.

Steve Sr: DARNELL!!! WHY IS THIS NOT WORKING!?!?!?! *click click click clickclickclickclick!!!!!!!!!!!*

Me: Frantic clicking does not help.

Steve Sr: CLICKCLICKCLICKCLICK!!!!!

Me: Please, Death. Take me now. And for the record, my name is DANIELLE. *I now huddle under the blanket, for I AM NOT HERE RIGHT NOW. *SOB* LEAVE A MESSAGE AND SEND TECH SUPPORT*

Steve Sr: DARNELL! DAMMIT!!!

Me: *cowering under blanket* Not here not here not here. *weeps*

Today’s actual conversation; cats and dogs edition!

Me: *walk walk walk. Minding my own business. Walk walk-SQUISH*

Me: Wah! Dog poo! GODDAMMIT!!

Steve Sr: Ha hahahahahahhaa.

Me: This is NOT FUNNY. You and your damn dogs. GODDAMMIT!!!!

Steve Sr: Hahahahahaa. I do it every day. They should really go on the paper, yeah?

Me: YES. They should go on the damn paper. And you should get carpets that don't mask the poo so I end up stepping on it in bare feet. DAMMIT.

Steve Sr: You should think about wearing shoes more often.

Me: Grrrrrrrr.

*new scene: Upstairs, with two obese cats*

Me: *minding my own business, watching crap TV*

Lulu (obese cat 1) *lick lick lick lick*

Me: Why are you licking my head?

Lulu: *lick lick lick*

Me: Getting a little damp here, idiot. Where the hell is your brother?

*CRASH*

Me: Oh shit.

Scene: My water glass is on the floor. Water everywhere. Stewart, the other obese cat, who has very little in the brain department, is surveying his destruction. He is very very proud of his accomplishments.

Me: You little bastard! What did you do?!?!?!

Stewart: *clueless grin and pathetic meow* STEWIE MADE MESS, MAMA! YAY!

Me: Goldfish. Why didn't I get goldfish?

Actual Conversation between me and Lifetime Movie Network

Me: Wow, is this movie awful. I cannot believe I'm watching this crap.

LMN: Hush. It's Sunday! There's nothing else to do!

Me: Well, I guess I could write, or, ya know, go outside or something...

LMN: I won't stand for such blasphemy. Now snuggle up with the cats and watch that chick from "Thirtysomething" pretend to be a shrink for DJ from "Full House"

Me: Isn't that one of Dante's circles of hell?

LMN: You know you love it.

Me: Fine. Now let me get this straight. DJ is catatonic after her parents were murdered, right? And everyone thinks she did it? And now she's got this shrink, and there are a bunch of random people also, who will clearly become red herrings in this storyline?

LMN: Yoooooooou betcha.

Me: I can feel my brain cells dying.

LMN: That's my job!

(time passes. I try to change the channel several times, but cannot summon the strength to do so)

Me: Oh! Thirtysomething chick is climbing a ladder! Eleventy million bucks says one of the ladder rungs suddenly gives out with dramatic music!

LMN: Sorry, didn't hear you.

(ladder rung gives out, with dramatic music)

Me: BOOYAHHHH!

LMN: Didn't hear you, sorry.

Me: Damn, this movie was certainly made in 1995. Check out the mom-jeans and oversized oxford shirt on whatshername. And Oh god, she's wearing a vest as well. Awesome. And I'm not even getting into the issue of her hair.

LMN: Just because you never figured out how to give yourself the Bridge and Tunnel bangs back in the day is not my fault.

Me: Did I mention that DJ Tanner is wearing Leonardo DiCaprio's old hair? Cause it is SUPER attractive.

LMN: Now you're just being mean. Accurate, but mean.

Me: Oh, thank christ, it's over. I'm outta here.

LMN: Except not, because coming up is a teen anorexia movie with Lynda Carter as the mom. You're not going anywhere.

Me: DAMMIT!!!!!!!!

Welcome to today’s installment of Actual Conversation Theater

People have asked me if my Actual Conversation with my mom was real, to which I replied "Oh lordy, yes, please send Valium" but then I started thinking about my dad, and our "conversations." To be completely fair, I adore my dad, and my daddoo and I have fantastic conversations face to face, but on the phone? Let's just say that both of my parents have...issues...with talking on the phone. For very different reasons. Example!

*ring ring*
Me: Hi! Dad?
Dad: MmmmHmm.
Me: How are you?
Dad: Mmm? Fine.
Empty Conversation Space: (.......)
Me: So! Dad! What's going on?
Dad: Nothing.
Empty Conversation Space: (.........)
Me: So...Um...How's work? Your students cool this semester?
Dad: Hmm. Pains in the ass.
Me: Great! Uh...And everything else? Anything?
Dad: Mmm? Fine.
Empty Conversation Space: Jeeeeeezus Keeeeee-rist. Make the pain stop.
Me: OH! Oh! Got it! The dog! How's the dog?
Dad: Pain in the ass.
Me: Oh. Okay. So...anything else?
Dad: Nope.
Empty Conversation Space: Thank God.
Me: Oooookay! Um...Talk to you later?
Dad: Yep.
Empty Conversation Space: GET ON WITH IT ALREADY! YOU'RE KILLING ME! HANG UP THE DAMN PHONE!
Me: Well, I was just calling to say that my hair is on fire and lizards are raining from the sky. Nothing important.
Dad: Mmmhmm. That's nice. I'll tell your mother you called. Loveyabye. *CLICK*
Me: Nice? Talking to you? Hello? Um...Okay. Bye! Love you! Hello? Oh, forget it.

Today's Actual Conversation

( I assure you that my mother was dead sober during this conversation, and that her phone talents are like this on any given day. She's cool like that.)

Me: Hi! Mom?
Mom: HELLO?!??!!? HOLD ON!!!!
Me: Um, okay.
(incomprehensible yelling)
Me: Mom? Hello? Are you okay? I only need a min-
Mom: THERE'S A COP. I CAN'T BE ON THE CELL. CAN YOU HEAR ME????
Me: Why are you...why is there...please stop yelling, I can call you later-
Mom: NO! I CAN TALK! I'VE GOT THE PHONE ON THE PASSENGER SEAT!
Me: Wow. Fantastic. Mom, why don't I just call you ba-
Mom: CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY'RE BUILDING A DRUGSTORE NEXT TO ANOTHER DRUGSTORE!?!? I'M GOING TO THE DRUGSTORE! YOU KNOW, THE FIRST ONE!
Me: Mom? I'm gonna call you back. Try not to crash the car or get arrested or anythin-
Mom: I'M FINE! WHAT DO YOU NEED?!!??!
Me: Just wanted to know when you are-
Mom: DID YOU EAT TODAY?!?!?!
Me: Yes, mom, I ate today. Just wanted to know when you and Dad are-
Mom: WHAT DID YOU EAT? CARBOHYDRATES? THEY HELP YOUR REFLUX, YOU KNOW!
Me: Mom, I ate. I ate carbohydrates. I ate both cats and half the population of Savannah. I just wanted to know-
Mom: I WORRY WHEN YOU DON'T EAT
Me: Mom, please, I swear to every deity ever imagined that I ate. I just wanted to know when you and Dad were-
Mom: OH, THE COP IS GONE!
Me: Fabulous. Does that mean less yelling?
Mom: What? What are you talking about? What do you need?
Me: My eardrums thank you.
Mom: What are you talking about? Did you eat today? Was it healthy?
Me: *slamming face repeatedly against wall*
Mom: HELLO?
Me: OHMYGOD, I JUSTWANTEDTOKNOWWHENYOUANDDADARECOMINGBACKFROMVACATIONAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!
Mom: There's no need to shout.