Just when you thought Succubi didn't exist...

I like to use this blog as an outlet to be witty, sarcastic, and silly. Well, I haven't been feeling particularly witty or sarcastic or silly lately, so good content has been hard to come by. Now bad content? There have been plenty of those ideas. You should probably thank me for stopping myself from posting photo streams of Helo or video of myself playing Rockband or inspiration boards for my office redecoration or my imagined audition for Les Miserables. Yes, all of these things I've considered and then wisely unconsidered. Because not only would they be painful for me down the road (as I'd look back and wonder what the heck I was thinking), they'd be disastrous for my readership.

So for today's post (because I really should be consistent about posting regularly), we're going to get a bit serious. We're going to talk about my sleep disorder.

It all started in high school. I'd wake up in the night, eyes wide open. And I'd see something in my room. Usually, it was a person. Sometimes it was a creature. Always very terrifying. I'd keep staring and staring and staring at it until it dissolved and there I'd be alone in my room.

When this first started happening, I was so freaked out and confused and frustrated that once when I awoke to find a man standing at the head of my bed, looking down on me, I started to talk to him. I asked him what he was doing there. He answered me, though I don't remember what exactly he said, and then he dissolved.

So this...this suspension of the dream world...continued. I experienced it through college, post-college, and I even experience it now (it happened last night, actually). I've come to accept it as part of my sleeping experience. I go to sleep, knowing it's very probable that I'll awaken in the night only to have the crap scared out of me due to some super-sized Helo, or bugs swarming the ceiling, or an old man sitting in a chair. I've accepted this and told few people. Because to be quite honest, this isn't really the type of thing you want people to know about you. Mostly because it sounds like you're demon possessed. And secondly....because it sounds like you're demon possessed.

But then today, my whole world changed.

On Yahoo!'s home page, it had an article that said "Strange Sleep Disorder Makes People See Demons."

You bet I clicked on that thing so fast it were as if I were playing Gopher Bop.

Come to find out, I am NOT demon possessed. I'm not even being haunted by spirits. Turns out I probably have Sleep Paralysis--a sleep disorder in which the mind remains suspended between dream world and reality while the eyes are open. (Okay, it's either Sleep Paralysis, or I'm being stalked by an incubus...which is gross and exactly what the ancients would have told me back in the day had I explained my symptoms).

Sleep Paralysis is also the likely explanation for those who claim to have been abducted by aliens (!) or had ghostly encounters (!).

I can only hope that some night my SP leads to imagined alien abductions and sweet encounters with Casper. In the meantime, I'll settle for seeing antlers grow out of light fixtures and random appearances of my siblings as the foot of my bed.

If I Were to Design a Miniatures Game

Miniatures gaming is a freaking awesome business. I mean where else can you charge $40 for a bunch of tiny pieces of plastic that the customers will not only assemble themselves, but then spend hours and hours painting? It's genius.

The cutie below costs $25 and probably stands at 2 inches. He comes as a sheet of plastic in which you pop out the pieces, assemble, and then paint and paint and paint (with the help of a magnifying glass, no less).

So after watching Tad throw his money at such a hobby, I decided I needed to create my own miniatures game and dupe unsuspecting gamers into buying my lazy plastic.

Now, as a former marketer, I've noticed a few things about the gaming world...

1) Nearly every game title contains one of the following words: Dungeon, Quest, Battle, War

2) The act of assembling and painting is supposedly as fun as actually playing the game itself (some gamers will simply assemble and paint without any desire to play!)

3. Gamers are easily excitable with anything Dragon

So, I introduce to you my miniatures game:

DRAGON DUNGEON BATTLE QUEST WARS

In this miniatures game, not only do you get to assemble your dragons, but you can choose your unique look! That's right! Each of the four dragon components (head, body, wings, tail) come sold separately. This means not only will you be spending that much more money, but you'll get to have a completely unique dragon!

Select numerous power card combinations to give your dragon one-of-a-kind feat combos and abilities (cards sold separately in packs).

AND add plenty of magic to the mix by buying, assembling, and painting your very own Dragon Master! (Dragon Masters boost the dragon's abilities for as long as the masters are in play!)

RESERVE YOUR DRAGON PIECES OF PLASTIC TODAY and you'll be battling other dragon in search of dunegon treasure in approximately 40 labor hours!

Dragon Head (20 models to choose from): $25

Dragon Body (20 models to choose from): $25

Dragon Wings (20 models to choose from): $25

Dragon Tail (20 models to choose from): $25

Dragon Master (10 different masters to choose from!): $30

Total before paints, paint supplies, and terrain doo-dads: $130 (and you MUST have all these components before you even THINK about playing).

Tad and I joked about my game idea for awhile.

Then, he showed me this from Kickstarter...

All I know is that they could have chosen a way better name.

The stuff you find...

I'm in the midst of making my office a REAL office and not just a place where we store random stuff and from which I occasionally work. We're talking an adult work space here. Something that if we had kids would be a DO NOT ENTER zone.

So in the process of whipping this room into shape, I had to empty my desk to replace it with a new one (!).

And it soon became quite apparent to me how long it's been since I've actually looked inside my desk drawers.

Here are a few of the gems I discovered:

Yes, this is exactly what you think it is!! A sheet of really sweet vintage Apple decals. I feel I should have used these on my previous cars (an Audi 100 and then a VW Jetta GLX VR6)...because putting them on a Toyota Corolla just isn't right.

This is the second diary I ever owned (runs from 12-24-93 to 8-24-98), and the level of awesome in this thing is just unreal. I mean FIRST, you have a tampered area where the lock sits because I'd lost the keys one day and needed to bust in, and THEN you have entries such as this:

I am now fully eleven for my birthday was December 22 of last year.

I am not wrapped up in Tyson for there is now Austin St. John and Jason Frank of the Power Rangers. I almost forgot John Bosch of the Power Rangers also...

I had this strange desire one day to give myself a tattoo sleeve, so I bought this pack of temporary tattoos. Not one of my best moments...and of course if I ever follow through I'll need to time it right, because showing up at a professional event with a sleeve of these fading bad boys probably wouldn't be the easiest thing to explain.

My wedding invites and programs!! Not sure why this was particularly exciting aside from the fact that my dessert cards say "Let them eat cake!" and there is a Charles Dickens quote in the program. Tad and I hate Dickens.

Oh, my years in marketing! These colorful catalogues are filled with catchy headlines such as:

Here's lookin' at style!

Color meets clarity.

See things your way.

Styles for the starry-eyed.

It's a wonder I didn't win any awards.

This is an article I wrote for the college newspaper that covers *gasp* tattoos! And whether those with tattoos are going to hell.

I'm not even joking. This is the real deal.

The article made some people mad, including the dude on the right who had a crush on me (I mean he was a blind date my freshman year and what can I say...I'm just really hard to get over).

But things settled down after awhile, and I eventually decided I never ever wanted to be a journalist. I mean what's the point in rattling cages when you can't even take a side?!

Now, where did I put those temporary tattoos again?

Bachelor of Arts in Awesomeness

So I'm in this process of creating an actual office for myself, which requires sifting through things and OH MAN, I REMEMBER THIS RANDOM THING FROM COLLEGE or high school or whatnot, because as I arrange this office area, I have to actually move stuff. Stuff that got tossed into this side room when we moved in a year ago and, well, there it's sat.

Anyway, I say this, because a moment ago I was poking around all of these boxes of good and bad memories, when I stumbled upon this envelope on the floor. Now I must say that this room isn't cluttered with stuff. So to stumble upon something without knowing it was there takes quite a bit of effort.

Especially when that something is your college diploma.

Alright, folks. Here's my big, bad confession. I've only looked at my diploma like twice in my life. I mean I'm pretty sure I checked it after receiving it to make sure it had my name spelled correctly. And I probably glanced at it after I pulled it out of my trunk (where it had lived for roughly a year post-graduation...because yes, I was that kid who left college with nothing but a car of possessions and $500 to my name...oh, and a diploma in the trunk. Quite Hallmark, wouldn't you say?). But other than those two probable events, I haven't looked at the thing.

Until now.

Am I the only one concerned by the fact that it nowhere states what my major was? I mean what happened to Bachelor of Arts in Dance or Bachelor of Arts in History or Bachelor of Arts in Guitar-Making? I mean this makes me look as though I had no major at all!! Just one of those "general studies" types, who end up working pottery studios where fifth grade birthday parties are held while the workers smoke pot in the back room!!!!!!

Okay, breathe. BREATHE, I SAY!!!!

But the school could so eeeeasily afford the stupid little protecitve tissue paper. Couldn't they afford ink for three more words? Three more simple, clarifying....

SNAP OUT OF IT!!!!!!

There has to be an upside--a way to turn this into a positive...

Like telling people I have a Bachelor of Arts in Medicine or Neurology or World Peace or ... SUPER MODELING.

You think they'll fall for it?

Helo, Mr. CrazyMan

I work from home. And on occasion, I have to make very important phone calls. I mean, we're talking 212 area code phone calls. And every time, I have to very carefully plan when these calls take place.

You see, Helo is still a puppy, albeit a 95-lb (and quickly fattening up) puppy whose shoulders come to my waist. And Helo has very specific times during the day in which he likes to be a crazy man.

Now whenever it's revealed that Helo is the reason I can't talk before 11am or after 3pm, I always get the same, sweet, well-intentioned but highly ignorant response:

"Oh, I LOVE dogs!! Don't worry about it! We'll be fine, I'm sure."

No, my friend. No we will not be fine. Because unlike most puppies who can be ignored during their romp around the dining room table or incessant banging into your leg. when Helo plays, couch cushions are flying through the air, the rug is skidding across the floor, and every once in awhile, my lap appears to be the perfect launching pad for his ginormous frame.

In other words, when Helo decides it's time to play, my work day comes to a screeching halt.

Here's what a very tame play time looks like...anyone want to suffer through the no-holds-barred version?

My Juvenilia: A Cat

When I was in Kindergarten, I had a sort of epiphany--the epiphany went something like this:

I like books!!!!
But where do books come from?
They don't just appear out of nowhere.
*Gasp!* Someone has to MAKE them?!!!!
How fun!! How fun to make a book!!!
That's what I'm going to do!! I'm going to make a book!!!

I imagine this epiphany involved a very serious conversation with my mom, because before I knew it, I was in the living room, surrounded by my "Publishing House." My "printing press" was my baby doll's high chair. Then of course I had my illustration desk and my writing desk and so on.

And I did not leave until I made a book.

The result? The 1990 Newberry award-winning classic, A Cat. 

It appears that early on in life, I desired to be mononymous. It was quite epic of me, really. That, or I couldn't spell my last name.

 

Sorry for the low quality images ...scanner was having difficulty with the staples.

Wow! What a fantastic opening line. It evokes suspense and concern. Truly, an attention-grabber. Brilliant! Now, if only someone would have told me that despite my left-handed tendencies, page numbers for all right-side pages go...on the right.

 

Is it just me, or am I getting lazier with my illustrations? I mean Cat used to have thicker legs, right? Also, the letter 'e' was a doozie to write.

 

I specifically remember drawing each and every one of those rug tassels. I was sure that more tassels = better artistic quality. Boy, I was right. Those tassels are spot on.

 And there it is! The great conclusion!! What IRONY! What symbolism!! (And in case you can't see it, that gray blob amidst the black blob is the mouse, standing in his mouse hole. Laughing, of course. Just like my super-comedic manuscript describes.)

P.s. I had to ask for my mom's help with spelling the -ing words.

 

One Giant Leap Toward Adulthood

Life is full of moments that remind us we're getting older.

Like that moment when you realize that you suddenly don't care if a man is going bald...you like him anyway.
Or that moment when it's midnight and you wonder how you ever ever ever pulled an all-nighter while trying to coherently write a term paper at the same time.
Or that moment when you responsibly say "I can't have caffeine. It keeps me up."
Or that moment when you find yourself giving a younger person the speech about how sometimes in life we all have to do things we don't want to do.

Or...that moment when you intentionally, knowingly and of your own volition, buy a box of cereal with dried fruit in it.

My whole life, I've hated cereal with fruit. Sliced bananas and bran? Gross. Diced strawberries and flakes? Nasty. But dried fruit. That was even worse, because there was no escaping it. There was no choice. You couldn't wake up and go "I think I'm going to skip the fruit today" because it was already in the box. And in Raisin Bran's case, there were TWO SCOOPS of it (I seem to remember when they added that extra scoop. I dry heaved when I heard the news).

But then the other day at the grocery store after a workout (which is the WORST time to be surrounded by purchasable food, by the way), I wanted something sweet. And I couldn't get a donut or anything like that, because I would hate myself after.

No, I needed cereal. A healthy-ish cereal that also had some sweetness to it.

So there I am, going up and down the aisle--eying the Reese's Puffs like a nerd eyes special boxed editions of Star Wars Trek Craft--when I settle on the Great Grains section. Instinctively, I reach for the Banana Nut flavor, because HELLO it tastes like banana bread without the bananas!!

But the calorie count! The calorie count makes me pull away. And then something very curious happens. My taste buds tell me they want something fruity in their cereal. And not something fake fruity, like fake banana flavoring. Something real fruity. Something chewy.

And before I knew what was happening, I had a box of Great Grains Cranberry Almond Crunch in my hands and was proceeding to the checkout.



Me: what are you doing?!
Myself: what does it seem like? I want this cereal.
Me: But are we actually going to eat the whole box? I mean one bowl, sure, but what if this craving is a tease? What if we go back to hating dried berries in our cereal after the first bite?
Myself: you worry too much.
Me: you don't worry enough!

The box was purchased. I drove home in silence, refusing to talk to myself.

And later, I poured a bowl, added skim milk (because I hate the taste of milk...another thing I'll probably grow out of, though I certainly hope not) and ate the whole thing.

and I liked it.

And today I had another bowl.

And as I stood there, eating this gross adult cereal and enjoying it, I felt very proud of myself and grown-up-ish.

And then I rinsed out my bowl and proceeded to work the rest of the day in my pajamas.