Midwinter Night’s Dream & My Other Husband

I had an absolutely mind-boggling dream last night.  There was music, crowd-surfing, werewolves/vampires, tattoos, horses, diamonds, sex, and…Maynard.

I’m going to try to relay the highlights, but now it has that loose narrative and hazy chronological sequence that defies any attempts to make sense once you’re awake.

I’m at this concert in this big dark space.  I’m sitting against a corner wall near the middle of the room.  Check out my bad-ass Paint diagram.

"X" marks the spot

“X” marks the spot…

And who should be sitting next to me but Marilyn Manson… only he’s yelling stupid things at the stage where Maynard is singing, trying to be cool or something.  And I tell him to shut up.  And he kisses me and tries to stick his hand in my pants.   And I’m like, no way, dude.  What kind of woman do you think I am?   I also seem to remember telling him my age, but lying and saying I was 29 instead of 31.  At some point, he (I think it’s him) picks me up and throws me in the air, and I am crowd surfing all over the room.  Eventually, I end up somewhere across the room, and the person holding me up is Trainer Bob, and he asks me for something (I can’t remember what,) but in return, I ask him for a favor– get me closer to Maynard.

"Whaaat?"

“Whaaat?”

At this point, as I pass near the stage, it looks more like a backstage tête-à-tête than a concert.  Maynard is sitting in a chair and his entourage is busy around him.  He’s not looking his usual put together self.  His face looks haggard and broken out…but I still love him anyway.

At some point I have circled the room and am dropped off near MM again.  He is also not looking his best… turns out he’s balding on top and wearing a black hairpiece to cover it up.  He flops the piece back on his head, and– voila!– instant sleek!  There are a lot of faces I recognize, mostly from high school, in the crowd.  At one point I am in a line near a side exit and a guy behind me (who I think I was supposed to know) was staring at me lasciviously and making menacing remarks.

At some other point, I found myself near the stage again.  This is about the point where I felt some sort of threat, as if I was being chased or hunted, by a werewolf, perhaps.  Maynard and his crew finally acknowledge me and hand me a small tray to which is affixed a variety of silver pieces (barettes? small styluses? I don’t know), but in the dream I knew what they were for– protection against my pursuers.

And now Maynard is close to me …

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…and we’re talking about our tattoos and he’s helping me fit these gi-normous fake fangs onto my teeth (more protection, I think?)

…and then there was this pretty horse, with kind of a pale palomino beige color in the head area and a dainty, thin nose.  I was told to let it eat, so I walked it to the area near the back wall of the main room, where there was a little inlet with a mound of hay.

A stall in the middle of a concert venue...weird, I know...

A stall in the middle of a concert venue…weird, I know…

And then I was riding the horse around a trail (still in the concert venue) and it was like I was on a parade circuit or something.  One of Maynard’s lackeys was giving me all this fancy jewelry.  It was for, like, some mock video where we were getting married or something.  They took my wedding ring off and threw it on the ground, and I asked one of the girls to retrieve it and put it somewhere safe.  She didn’t so I went back to get it and put it on another finger.  The ring that the girl had given me as a wedding ring was big but all the diamonds were like little marcasite-looking stones… you know, all pomp but no real value… and I was like, Well, this ring is unacceptable… 

img-thing

Marcasite ring (photo: polyvore.com)

Soooo…

You’re leaving something out, you say.

Oh, you mean the sexy part?

Yeah, of course we mean the sexy part.

What I do on my fake wedding night with my fake husband (who also happens to be a talented and hot musician) is my business, you pervs!

I don't know who took this picture, but it wasn't me.

I don’t know who took this picture, but it wasn’t me.

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On My Little Pony and “Being Fat”

Random thoughts, questions, and ideas for the day, punctuated with applicable pix of cats.

On My Little Pony…

Its-dangerous-to-go-alone-my-little-pony-friendship-is-magic-30730621-955-836

Could someone please explain to me why I am tearing up at an episode of My Little Pony this afternoon?

...is it because Neeners thought Pony "Friendship is Magic?"

…is it because Neeners thought pony “Friendship is Magic?”

Or…

...because I haven't yet realized my dreams of building a pony army to achieve world domination?

…because I haven’t yet realized my dreams of building a pony army to achieve world domination?

On “being fat…”

KY Walmart cat dares you to steal his 'lectric cart...

KY Walmart cat dares you to steal his ‘lectric cart…

I’m still struggling with that ten or so stubborn pounds that I gained back after last Christmas.  I’ve been watching re-runs of The Biggest Loser.  Despite my general distaste for most reality shows, I find this show fascinating.  It’s also eye-opening.  Give me a second to explain myself.  I try not to judge people…but I also think it’s natural to an extent.  Part of the reason I am so disgusted with the state of the population when I walk through my local Walmart is the impression I get that many of these people just don’t care enough to make the choices they need to be healthy.  It’s easier, and let’s face it, more enjoyable, to eat whatever, whenever, and sit on your ass and watch TV, than it is to get up and exercise, and also to exercise portion control and selective eating.  I know it is!  I feel that way too.  I miss being sixteen, and not giving a shit what I ate or how much.  But I also give myself enough credit to say, “hey, this is getting out of hand,” before it gets too out of hand.

That said, watching this show has not only inspired me to work harder for my own goals (if these people can muster the strength and courage to do it, I certainly can,) it has reconnected me to the feelings of despair and guilt and shame a lot of overweight people feel.   I think these feelings get buried, and people who are not overweight do not always realize those feelings exist.

I mean, I wasn’t intending to blog about weight loss or fitness today, but I stumbled upon one of today’s Freshly Pressed and it sort of cinched some ideas in my head.

I totally understand and respect this guy’s point of view.  Regardless of my feelings about weight and health, I do not offer my opinions on someone else’s body unless they ask me.  I love to share the things I’ve done that make me feel good and have been successful for me.  But I only talk about them in terms of myself, and usually only after the other person broaches the subject.  Still, this post reminded me that I would do well to try to remain empathetic and open minded to the feelings of others.

I liken it to when people offer me their unsolicited opinions and “medical” advice about how smoking is bad for me and I should quit.  Basically, whether it’s weight or smoking, a choice in music, clothing, sexual orientation…whatever…if it doesn’t affect you directly, and the person in question does not ask for your opinion, you offering your opinion and advice like you’re giving them the keys to the universe is just arrogant and makes you look like an ass.  Keep it to yourself!

On using Facebook to find your birth mom or child…

In just a few short weeks I’ve seen more and more of this.  Maybe I just can’t understand because I have always had my parents… two sets actually.  But I wonder why all of a sudden this boom in people looking for their birth mothers.   If you are raised your whole life by one set of parents and then you find out you’re adopted, I’m sure most of you would agree that your adoptive parents are still your parents.  So what causes the drive to meet what amounts to a perfect stranger?  So many things would go through my mind.  If I found out my parents were not biologically my parents, how would I feel?  I’m really not even sure.  It’s hard to imagine (especially given that I look so much like my mother.) Would I need or want to search for my birth parents?  What if they didn’t want to meet me?  What if they were in jail, or junkies, or dead?  Would finding that out be even worse than not knowing?

Well, this post certainly went from short and light, to long-winded and heavy.  To lighten the mood back up, I give you… Methos with his face jammed into a pillow while he sleeps.

"Oh, da hoomanity!"   I think I'll go back to thinking about ponies.

“Oh, da hoomanity!” I think I’ll go back to thinking about ponies.