So, I've had nightmares the last two nights.
And from around 2 to about 5 a.m. this has been me,
When I say nightmares, I mean, NIGHTMARES. I've been thrashing and moaning like Dr. Phil naked in a tub of lube and screaming like the spectators forced to watch him.
You may remember that I tend to scream in my sleep, while Will punches. I wrote about that sometime back in "Night Brawlers". I still haven't determined if Will is actually sleeping when he punches me in the spine, or the face, for that matter.
He hasn't done that for quite sometime now, so I should really cut him so slack. Actually, in the morning, if I'm at all confused as to whether or not I really had all those nightmares, it's usually quite evident by the look on Will's face.
But yeah, he has NOT been amused. That poor devil has had to endure me going through all the motions of someone in detox. It's been awful. We both wake up exhausted, dazed and confused.
After all, there are so many things happening recently that could be the cause of it.
First, it was poor Sammy Sosa turning white in a year.
That's enough right there.
What the hell happened to him?
All of a sudden (or maybe not so suddenly), he's
Makes me want to scream right where I'm sitting.
So, that's not bad enough, we've got the Palin-Flailin Circus AGAIN.
And no surprise, Sarah goes rogue on a few "facts" in her book.
I love documentary photographer Nina Berman's comment, hailing the cover as "brilliant" and "shrewd" for using a "propped photo where Palin is an obvious participant ... to show how far out she is willing to travel on the road of self promotion" while "shield[ing] themselves from what would have been the inevitable criticism if they had dolled her up themselves and posed her the same way."
You posed for the pic, Sarah. Sorry everyone doesn't do what you want them to, you A-hole.
If she were a cow, no one would've given her the time of day. They would've just thrown some ketchup on her and called her a burger.
But, no. She's back. And she has a book and I don't. But, then again, they're trying to sell them for $4.95 and they can't.
And because I'm so sick and tired of Sarah Palin, I am screaming where I stand.
So, as if all of this isn't enough to give me nightmares and get my chords ringing,
We've been invited inside Christina Aguilera's Beverly Hills Home...
And it has me screaming again,
What would have taken all the nightmares away would've been a shot of her sofa,
Ahhh, well. Sammy, Sarah and Christina? I have my issues, most certainly. In fact, they're keeping me up at night. And even though, I wonder what's going on with your skin and your insecurities surrounding it, or your desperation to be heard, or your wild decor sense and extravagance, I highly doubt you guys are the cause of my nightmares. Besides, don't listen to me... No matter what I say, words shouldn't bring you down. At least, not MY words.
If it's one thing that will always make me love Christina Aguilera... It's "Beautiful". And that comes in all shapes and sizes and colors, whether you might be cat-like, or an albino gorilla, or maybe you strongly resemble a deer, or maybe you ARE a deer, or a chimp or maybe you just smile like one. Or maybe you're a Bullfrog, or just like to hang out in ponds. Anyway, "you are beautiful, no matter what they say, words can't bring you down".
And it's good to remember that sometimes.