This morning, before my morning nap (doesn’t everyone take a nap after waking up?), I dreamt that Harvey Keitel was a hit man who had killed all my companions. He was very professional and courteous, and told me to sit on the couch while he took care of my last friend (who looked quite like Jack Klugman). Harvey opened the door, aimed his gun, and had his hand blown off by Jack (who had stashed a plastic gun on his person). Harvey dropped to the floor and expired, and I gave ol’ Jack a big hug and congratulated him on not dying.

I dunno what’s up with my dreams lately, and the 70’s era cast.


New band name: Fistful of Nipples


This morning I had breakfast at Daycare Donuts. It’s technically called Daylight Donuts, but it’s painted bright yellow and has crayon artwork on the walls, and a teevee in the corner blasting kid shows. My apple turnover soon had sugar coursing through my neck, and I’m all abuzz now. That, and I have Heywood Banks‘ Fly’s Eyes running through my head.

Lookin’ at the world through fly’s eyes, and you can just buzz off

Well, I get up in the morning while the dew is on the doo,
And I date a little maggot named Mary Lou.
Someday we’ll get married and we won’t think twice,
When our kids all look like dancing rice.

Think I’ll land on some fresh manure
Think I’ll land on some poop-du-jour
Think I’ll land on a dead possum…
And then I’ll land on your potato salad
(just washin up!)

Think I’ll buzz around the front door
Think I’ll buzz around the back door screen
Think I’ll buzz around your face,
And then I’ll land up on the ceiling.


That bug has a very stylish mustache, doncha think?

Time to go sling some paint on my all-consuming project. Hopefully it goes better than it did last night, clogging my new sprayer until way after dark. Grumble.