This is technically the first episode of SPASM (Stupid Prattle After Sleeping Meds) because in the first episode, I only got to the explanation of what SPASM would be and the reason behind it and then I fell asleep. So that was not very weird or random.
So what shall I talk about? Should I tell you that I am so behind on life in general that I haven't really thoroughly checked my kids backpacks in days? That this makes me feel like a slacker-mom? That it seems like parents have to be way more up in their kid's biz-nazz than they did back in my day? Then again, that doesn't seem like a very fun topic. What about the fact that I buried my fishy today? Or that my seminary teacher died last week and I am devastated? No. No. No. I will save that for more coherent times.
Dang, I can only think of depressing subjects right now. Hmmmm...Here's something cheerful: Today the guy from the repair shop where I was getting my car fixed said I needed to come pick up the car and drive it for forty miles at sixty miles/per hour. So I did and I sang along to Christmas songs! And then bad accidents (not involving me or my dorky minivan) and horrible traffic ensued and I was late getting home, and Cole was home alone for, like, ten minutes and I felt guilty. 'Kay, that story was not as cheerful as I'd planned.
Maybe I could make something up.
Once upon a time there was a telegram that came to the beach house where Mortimer (the man in a mouse suit), Ginger (the catholic ex-stripper), and I (Josepher, the son of crazy people) were staying. It was really exciting because none of us had ever gotten a telegram before. But the telegram was actually for an 82 1/2 year old that was still in college and had been mis-delivered. We decided to take it to it's rightful owner on foot. The whole time we chatted about telegrams.
"Don't they use Morse code to send them?" asked Ginger.
"I didn't even know there were such thing as telegrams anymore. What is the meaning of this? There is no point in sending a telegram in this age of technology!" exclaimed Mortimer angrily, but no one could really take him seriously in his mouse suit.
"Maybe it's a hoax? Maybe it will lead us into a giant booby trap." I said.
"Let us proceed then!" said Mortimer, "I can't wait to be trapped in giant boobies!" He said this in a British accent. It would have been hot, but the danged mouse suit. Oh wait, I forgot I'm telling this story from the point of view of a straight dude. Scratch that last bit.
We finally arrived at the college campus. We had to take a bike path to get there. I'm not sure how cars got in and out of the parking lot, because there was no opening to any road. Just a closed in parking lot and building in the middle of a green field of grass. The building looked a little like Emerald City. I knocked at the gates and explained to the Munchkin, "I am Josepher and despite my bad genetics, I am the most sane of my family!" for people had heard of my insane family all over the land that I just made up. So some people were leery of me because I might be crazy. I didn't feel crazy. "In any case," I continued, "we don't even really need to come in. We just have this telegram addressed to this man that we somehow know is 82 1/2 and attends college here."
"Well, alright." said the Munchkin gate-keeper who was dressed in drag.
"I don't want to come in anyway." Ginger said, "You don't want us to come in because you think we're crazy by association and we don't want to come in because we think you're crazy for building your college to look like Emerald City on the bike path."
The Munchkin agreed and took the telegram. He didn't seem surprised in the slightest that there was a telegram. That made Mortimer, Ginger and me want to book out of there fast-like. There was some lunch waiting for us somewhere and we were actually more afraid of being trapped in the giant boobies than we wanted to let on. Even Ginger was afraid, and she had giant boobies herself.
So we went to Coney Island. Then we had Grape Ne-Hi's and Coney Islands for lunch. A waiter gave us paper hats. We returned home to our parents no worse for the wear. Within moments of being in our beds our eyelids got heavy, our thoughts muddled and nonsensical and then we started twitching.
The end.
Damn. I just remembered that I left my Invisalign downstairs. There's no way I can get that right now.
I'll edit this in the morning, but for now I must fall asleep. It's going to be incredible.
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