Nobody cares about the weird dream you had last night, I’m aware. But please indulge me for a couple of minutes.
I was in a Mexican restaurant, you see, with some people from my current job. There was a large envelope on our table, and I asked why they hadn’t turned it in yet. “Nobody’s come around and asked for it,” they replied, with a shrug. This annoyed me because it felt like half-assery, and I said, “Just give me the goddamn thing. I guess I’ll have to do it?”
As I was walking to the cashier’s station I passed a guy I used to work with at a different job. His head was completely shaved, and he was sporting a red, white, and blue headband, like a basketball player from the 1970s. I greeted him enthusiastically and even gave him a hug, which is wildly out of character for me. We chatted for a few seconds, and I continued. Then I happened upon a woman who has been a friend of my parents for decades. She was hobbling along and had a cast on her right leg. “Kick somebody’s ass?” I asked her. Which is, again, out of character, considering the person I was talking to. She told me what happened, but I don’t remember. I think I completely checked out in my dream, just like I do in real life.
When I got to the cashier, she wouldn’t take the envelope. She said I needed to give it to Kristen, and she’s in the clubhouse. This is a Mexican restaurant, remember.
So I went outside and walked around the building. I climbed over a chain that was blocking a path across an empty field. Eventually, I was on ancient railroad tracks with weeds growing up in every direction. I was afraid of snakes but finally arrived at a fancy movie theater without incident. I went inside and asked where the clubhouse is, and the person said I should talk to the manager. An older black lady with a flamboyant hat introduced herself as Powerful Organic-Thong and gave me directions to the clubhouse.
Kristen was there, and she was a blonde woman in her 30s. It appeared she was wrapping another woman’s ankle with an ACE bandage. You know, inside the “clubhouse” of this Mexican restaurant/high-end movie theater? A place managed by Powerful Organic-Thong? She didn’t want to take the envelope either, but I insisted.
The End.
It’s weird because I don’t usually remember dreams in such detail. I often wake up and realize I’d been dreaming, but it all evaporates in about two seconds. But with this one, I can recall emotions and how hot and muggy it was while I was walking on those railroad tracks. And I somehow knew Organic-Thong was a hyphenated last name. I still don’t know what was in that envelope, though. But it seemed mighty important that it be “turned in.”
If anybody would like to attempt an analysis of that nonsense, please knock yourself out. Use the comments section so thoughtfully provided by our WordPress overlords.
A week from today we’ll be in Myrtle Beach, or in transit, or something similar. It’s going to cost us a lot of money, and I’m not sure how it’ll turn out. It’s a lot of togetherness. We’ll see what happens. But I’m a little on-edge about the whole thing. There’s a very good chance it’ll come completely off the rails. There are some difficult people involved. Three to be exact, and I ain’t one of ’em. Pass the beer nuts.
Last week I went through three days of “leadership training” at work. All the supervisors and some of the managers were “invited” to attend. I mean… It’s fine, but I don’t like the constant role-playing and interactions. It feels like I’m at a comedy club and the comic is one of those guys who continuously picks on audience members. Ya know? My sphincter was winking for three days.
Actually, it wasn’t all that bad. The anticipation and dread were far worse than the reality of it. I can get myself worked up about shit like that. But it was fairly painless, to be honest. However, there was an incident very near the end that I’d like to pass along.
It was almost over. In fact, the words CLOSING STATEMENTS were projected on the screen. I’d made it! The end was in sight! And suddenly… my phone started blaring music real loud. I didn’t touch the damn thing, it was just lying there. And it was all of the sudden cranking a Daily Mix at Spotify. I didn’t recognize the song, but it was a lot of acoustic guitars and was fairly upbeat.
I about shit and was fumbling and stumbling. But the thing would not turn off. Every head was turned my way, and it seemed like the volume of the music was increasing by the second. Eventually, everybody was laughing hysterically, as I mumbled profanities and monkeyed around with my phone. And then the instructors started waving their arms above their heads, like they were at Coachella or something. I was about ready to throw the phone on the floor and start stomping on it, but it finally stopped.
Sheesh. The gods of humiliation would not allow me to escape unscathed. And so it goes.
I guess I should call it a day here, my friends. I’m working on some stuff behind the scenes and should be able to share it with you when I return from the beach. Please stay tuned. I’m going to try to update again this week, on Thursday or Friday, and then I’ll bring you up to date on stuff if/when we successfully return from Myrtle Beach.
For a Question, I’d love to read the stories of your own personal public humiliations. Please tell us about it. Also, on the first day of our training last week we had to go around person by person and tell the group about one thing that makes us unique. See? That’s the kind of shit I hate. Sweet sainted mother of Jo Anne Worley! But if you’d like to give it a shot, go ahead. What makes you unique? Use the comments section.
And I’ll see you guys again soon.
Have a great day!
Now playing in the bunker
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That was a weird dream. I too wonder what was in the envelope.
It was a photograph of the briefcase from Pulp Fiction.
I wonder if Powerful Organic-Thong was of the Baltimore Organic-Thong’s?
Hey Jeff-
I just learned that Brenda Love has passed away. I am pretty sure this is where I met her. She was a great person.
I met her here too and then we were friends on FB for YEARS. So sudden and she was such a lovely woman.
I went digging around last night due to not seeing her post for a while – plus I just moved and did not have internet for a while. Anyhow – it saddens me. I was about to show her a photo of my new stereo system.
Your “public humiliation incident” sounded more like a dream than your dream did!
I wasn’t publicly humiliated (at least I don’t think I was) but I was at my best friend’s wedding and when we got home, I noticed that my fly had been down the WHOLE TIME! Fortunately, I wasn’t in the wedding party! It was also there that I introduced myself to someone I thought was the groom’s grandmother, and addressed her as such. She promptly corrected me (rather sternly) by telling me she was the mother of the bride. I just wanted to crawl into a hole at that point!
Please tell me the Myrtle Beach excursion involves Nancy, Nossy and the Translucents…
Please please please! I miss them so much! I know Jeff’s mental health has probably improved without them but his readers have SUFFERED! Priorities!
Brenda Love is sadly missed. I met her at the NC Smoking Fish meet-up in Wake Forest a few years back. Always wished we could have gotten together again.
We talked about meeting up many years ago – but never did.
If someone else has access to your Spotify account (Toni or the boys) they may have tried to play it; there is an option to select the output device and they probably had it set to your phone. Has happened to me a few times when my kids tried to play Spotify on our Alexa. Scared the chit out of me the first couple of times it happened.
I worked with Brenda, yet we met via the WVSR! She was such a nice person, and I was sorry to hear that she passed at a relatively young age.
Some of you may recall that once upon a time Jeff had a guest post an update. Brenda was one of the people who got to do that. Plus she had a great blog herself.
Did you by any chance indulge in a cheese-laden food right before bedtime? I always have crazy dreams when I have cheesy foods at night.
I love cheese. And Disco.
I love cheese. And Disco.
I’m very sorry to hear about Brenda. I hope she’s partying with Jimmy Kuhn.
You’re on your own on that dream….
As far as Myrtle goes, just south of there is Murrells Inlet- HIGHLY recommend the marsh walk with a stop into the Mullet Hut for a cold one.
In college I walked across campus (literally all the way across campus) with my skirt tucked up under my backpack, revealing my cute little panty-covered bottom to everyone. I thought everyone was staring because I looked so great that day. At least I was wearing drawers that day, and they were cute, not granny panties, and this was in my young, thin days.
I don’t think I had the pleasure of knowing Brenda, but RIP and condolences to all you Surf Reporters.
That was one funky, funny dream, Jeff!
The one unique thing about me is I have not yet picked up this little racist loudmouth I work with and body slammed her down a flight of concrete steps. As my mother used to say “You have the patience of Job!”. Check your news often because I’m walking a fine line.
I’ll give you a hand when the time comes.
PS: Spike Lee has gone to hero status.
Spike Lee is a racist piece of shi*.
The dream was hilarious, and flawlessly related.
I suppose I am unique in that I enjoy those trypophobic images that weird out so many people.
RIP Brenda.
Jeff; your dream is fever induced. Spring fever that is. It has hit the region hard the past couple of days and has afflicted many people with delusions and strange thoughts and dreams.
What makes me unique? DNA I suspect…
I always have the same dream: while dressed in a diaper and bonnet like Baby-Faced Finster I lose my keys at Burning Man. Go figure.
A semester-worth of PE in the 9th grade was dedicated to swimming and water safety. After about six classes I was late one day. So, I put my Speedo on in the deserted locker room and hustled out on the deck. I was about to jump in for the mandatory laps when I realized the class was fully-clothed on the bleachers very quietly taking a quiz on CPR or some shit. If I remember correctly, I may have turned inside out like a salted snail and tried to slip down the floor drain.
True fact: Last night I had a dream in which I was telling someone about a weird dream I’d just had.
Yes, we should not talk about our dreams…. I only have them in early in the morning. Last one I remember was a very tall clown in yellow pants trying to scrape skin samples from my arm…… Not creepy at all. I wokeup screaming.
Not even going to figure that one out….
I’m special; which makes me unique.
Nightmares
I use to wake up screaming because something was trying to kill me. Now my nightmares are about peeing.
Getting old ain’t for sissy’s.