Plus, I woke up with ink in my ear

The other night I had a dream about which, upon waking, I thought: "That would make a great blog post" (yeah, I'm not right in the head). After which I thought, "I'll never remember that, I should write it down.". Followed swiftly by, "Of course I'll remember it, it's totally unforgettable. Must go back to sleep now, precious sleep.".

Well, duh. I forgot it.

So the following night I installed a pen and notepad on my nightstand. And the next morning I looked for my nocturnal brilliance to find:

NKOTB - tix!
underwater ninjas
(illegible scrawling)
Momdeath, crying. Bus

...yeah. So, that process needs work.

Someone inform NASA

Science according to 7-year-old boys:

"Did you know that, um, octopusses, um, if you bite one of their tails...."

"Tentacles?"

"Yeah, tentacles, if you bite one off, it grows back, like, right away."

"Right away?"

"Yeah, like, in five seconds." (this time is quoted with authority)

"Really? What if a shark bit them ALL off at once?"

"That would take, um..."

(long pause)

"...NINE seconds."

This is about as deep as I get

In the interest of making this blog more about "me", I've added a weekly Superheroine (see sidebar). I'll post a new one every Monday. My superheroines are just like us, except they fight crime instead of dust bunnies, attend Justice League meetings instead of PTA functions, and look fantastic in spandex.

I feel compelled to point out that I was a comic nerd long before Hollywood ran out of movie plots and began pirating every comic book, video game, and crappy merchandising gimmick available (please, nobody tell me that there is/was/will be a Bratz movie. I'm sure it's true, but to know with utter certainty will force me to perform a murder-suicide and take out my entire family). Ages before everyone else knew who Wolverine was, I had a total crush on "Patch". I sort of blame the A-ha video for making my hobby worse; if I just read enough comics, someone might offer their ink-and-four colour hand and help me into that world.

Don't get me wrong. I'm on board with the cross-pollination of genres. Every first-year art student knows you're supposed to push the borders. And, fangirl that I am, I totally squee when they get it right. I just kind of think some things are best left true to their form. With enough inbreeding, all you produce is mutants, ya know? And not the cool kind that read your mind or shoot lasers out of their eyes. The squalling kind that wear their guts on the outside and should be put out of their misery at birth.

(Okay, that would be kind of cool too.)

That's why I pay you the big bucks!

"Okay, I have two Two-Bite Brownies. That's 4 bites. Four bites doesn't count, right?"

"Shouldn't. But, if you can manage to eat them in ONE bite..."

"Omigod! I could have four Two-Bite Brownies!"

"Right."

"YOU ARE THE BEST DIET CONSULTANT EVER!!!"

Give the Devil his interest payments

Have I mentioned that Paul is a major Metallica fan? Like, rabid, dyed-in-the-wool, card-carrying-fan-club-member-who-never-listens-to-anything-else-except-maybe-the-rare-brave-foray-into-Megadeth-territory? Yeah, still.

Anyway, Metallica is going on tour. Again. Because that's what respectable forty-something parents do, they climb into busses and go on the road and scream about all the anger they don't have, and they release albums shaped like coffins in an attempt to convince us that they are really still all about the death and the pain and the anger, and not about parenting and golf and their 401K. But they are, in fact, in league with the Devil Ticketmaster.

As a card-carrying fan club member, Paul is entitled to four advance sales tickets, which went on sale yesterday at 10am. Yesterday at 10:05 he bolted up the stairs, yelping in a panic, "I need my Visa!!".

"Um, what?" I reply. "You can't. It's frozen."

(See, a few months ago I decided it would be a good idea to get some equity out of the house that is worth considerably more than when we bought it, and do some renos and consolidate some debt. That process was started in May, and I just got the money for it a few days ago. So JUST LAST WEEK we paid off my student loans, my line of credit, and Paul's Visa, which I promptly froze into a block of ice and stuffed in the freezer. For emergencies. NOT FUCKING METALLICA TICKETS.)

"Ticketmaster won't take PayPal! I have like 3 minutes to process these tickets - I need my Visa!!"

"Well use my debit Mastercard, it comes out of my account, and you can just give me the money," I reason calmly. At which point I notice he's taken the lump of ice out of the freezer and is brandishing a hammer.

"I don't have the money NOW," he practically shrieks in anguish, "I only had it in PAYPAL!"

"You can't break that!" I snap, "It's frozen!" ...as if it's frozen in carbonite, not water, and hitting it with a hammer will shatter it's soul forever, or at least the Visa will be a little groggy and useless for a while.

"I have like, 30 seconds!" he bellows, already outside smashing the ice block on our front walk. In his pajamas. As if the neighbours didn't think we were crazy before.

I just grit my teeth as he goes thundering back down the stairs waving his Visa triumphantly. Good thing I went to all that work to pay it down. Because he's SO likely to pay off those charges promptly.

"I am cutting it up now," I say tightly as he comes back up the stairs, out of breath from ordering those tickets online. "Never mind the stupid block of ice, clearly it's ineffective."

"You can't," he says serenely, "I need the original Visa to claim the tickets." He hands it back to me.

I have a mental list of people or companies that are conspiring to keep people in the dark, in debt, or generally miserable. Metallica, Visa, and Ticketmaster just muscled their way to the front of the line. One of these days - I swear! - Security is going to have to ask them to leave.