That Jacket is Sharp

Oh, how I've neglected my readers. I apologize. Things and stuffs have kept me from being able to blog lately. I suffered a mini nervous breakdown last weekend, work has been crazy, and only now is my soft fruit peeler injury starting to heal. So now I can type the following letters without wincing: t,r,f,c,v,g and sometimes h.

So, I had one of my weird recurring dreams again last night. I figured I'd share it with the masses. Perhaps you could tell me what it means. I tried to figure it out on dream interpretation websites, but strangely nothing pops up when you type in "Don Johnson, giraffe, sharp-looking blazer, and sticky floors." Weird, right? You'd think TONS of people have dreams like that.

Ahhh, but you are intrigued now, aren't you?

So in the dream, I am at a house I used to live in, located in the beautiful (slightly crime-ridden) city of South Minneapolis. It was one of those old houses, probably built around the turn of the century (as in the 1900's. Not the 2000's. We ain't made of money, y'all.) You know, where everything is made for people that were apparently much shorter and slimmer than we are nowadays. The doorways are short, the hallways are narrow, the staircases are an accident waiting to happen. Each step is like 14 inches tall, so it's like doing lunges or something. Which my fat ass is clearly not built for. And the steps are only 3 inches deep, so you can't really fit your huge 21st century foot on it. Very trecherous. And the bedrooms in this house are a spacious 6'x7'. So you can fit, you know, nothing in these rooms. Anyhoo, I'm back in this house. I'm in the living room and I keep hearing this weird sound coming from the attic, right above my head. So I open the attic door and start walking up the stairs. (Please note: this would never happen in real life. If I heard some shit going on in my attic and I didn't know what it was, my ass would be up and outta there, like yesterday.) Anyway, when I get to the top I see that there is a giraffe standing over in the corner. And he kind of telepathically tells me that he needs to get out of there and go home, but he can't figure out how. So I try to help him, but you know, he's just a stupid giraffe, so he isn't really good at taking direction from me. Plus, I notice that the floor is super sticky. So sticky that I lose both of my shoes. So I run downstairs and call the ASPCA. Immediately a car pulls up in front of the house, and the ASPCA dude comes to the door. And it's none other than the highly esteemed actor/singer Don Johnson. Think: Miami Vice. Dude's got the Farrah Faucett-esque mullet going on, the teal colored t-shirt with the linen jacket over it (sleeves rolled up, of course), a sensible pair of tapered black jeans. Oh, and a huge rocket-launcher size tranquilizer gun. I tell him about the giraffe, so he heads up there and shoots the hell out of it. Then he ties a rope around his neck and drags the thing down the stairs and out the front door. I ask him if he is hurting the giraffe by dragging it that way, and Don looks at me and says, "Well, it ain't no chipmunk, honey."

Then I wake up.

Now, the line that Don Johnson flawlessly delivers at the end of this dream can vary. Sometimes he says, "Keep your chin up, darlin'." Sometimes it's something about Coke. But usually, it's "Well, it ain't no chipmunk, honey." This is funny for a few different reasons.

A) It makes no sense. The whole friggin dream in completely nonsensical and bizarre. And therefore funny.
B) The chipmunk line, for those of you in the know, is the very first line I had in a play when I was in elementary school. I was an elephant. I don't remember my name, but it will come to me. (Lily?) Anyway, in the first scene of the play, I'm in my gray elephant costume, kind of curled up on the ground, and one of the other castmembers (I believe she was a pelican) comes to "sit" on me - she thinks I'm a rock. I start to move and Pelican-Girl says "Oh, that's not a rock! What is it?" And I say "Well, I ain't no chipmunk, honey!" And then hilarity ensues. (My sister-in-law loves that story. Mostly because one time me, my dad, and my sister in law were sitting in a booth at a Burger King having lunch or elevensies or something, and my dad told the story of me dressed up like an elephant. He apparently thought it was SOOOOOO funny that he started to laugh. And then it escalated to snorting. And then chest-clutching, knee-slapping, red-faced womanly shrieks of laughter. And everyone at the BK was looking at us. And I wanted to crawl under the table and die, because, like, my dad was soooo lame, man. So I don't know if it's the story itself that my SIL likes, or just the over-the-top reaction my dad when relating the story to us.)

But, I digress. Back to my dream. Hopefully you all can interpret this for me. If you do a good job, perhaps I'll share some of my other recurring dreams. (Teaser: robots and cantaloupe. Now you want to know, don't you? DON'T YOU?!?!)