Baby Longlegs

My sister recently dreamed that one of her best friends had a baby. In theory, this is nothing exciting. However, when her friend introduced this baby to the world, it turned out that she had birthed not a human child, but a tiny giraffe. Not like a hybrid, but a straight-up giraffe. And this seemed not to bother her or her husband one bit.  They were thrilled with their little spotted bundle, lengthy neck and all.

My sister, on the other hand, found herself worrying about the baby's future.

"It's a giraffe.  All right.  But this isn't always going to be okay, is it?"

Her concern had more to do with practicality than interspecies prejudice, because her next thought was, "I mean, I know their house has high ceilings, but . . ."

She had just decided to research animal sanctuaries when she woke up.

She laughed about it all morning and then shared the dream during a group lunch at work -- and then laughed even harder. Because after hearing the scenario of a woman giving birth to a baby giraffe, one of her coworkers simply said,

"Well, as long as it's healthy."

Big Shoes?

This week, I feel the need to share with you a brilliant drawing that a friend posted recently. Her creative and hilarious daughter decided to depict Ye Olde Sasquatch with a twist. I honestly don't know what I like more -- the fact that he's wearing an ironic T-shirt, or her thoughtful censorship of certain areas that aren't covered by the T-shirt. Because you know what they say about big feet . . . 

Para-rental Activity

A friend recently told me that her daughter started sleepwalking again. How did she find this out? Only in the most terrifying way possible.

My friend woke up in the middle of the night and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. On her way back to bed, something in her home office caught her eye. Just a small movement in the shadows, but enough to make her pause.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw her desk chair slowly spinning . . . spinning . . . spinning . . . until her trance-like child rotated into view.

"What are you doing in there?" my friend asked. In response, her daughter stood up and walked calmly back to her bedroom.

What amazes me about this story is that my friend is, as of this writing, still alive (i.e., did not suffer a fatal heart attack because of this encounter). 

I think this is because, even though you have to be prepared for anything when you have kids, you can also chalk a lot of creepy-ass stuff up to the fact that they're children. They're going to say crazy shit, and do freaky things (because they aren't yet old enough to know they're freaky), and they're not always able to distinguish dreams from reality.

But parents have an advantage, because if they hear a noise or see an apparition during the midnight hours, they can rest assured it's probably just their offspring being weirdos.

I, on the other hand, have no such handy explanation to comfort me. If I had wandered into a room and seen a chair spinning in the dark, the scene would have played out very differently.

COURTNEY: (Sees rotating piece of office furniture. Knows for a fact no other living beings are in her apartment. Says nothing. Soils self.)  

End Scene.

That Sinking Feeling

Last winter, I went with a friend to visit his sister. Even though she lives in the same city, I'd never been to her house, so I wanted to be on my best behavior.

I asked for the grand tour, which included fascinating stories about all the artwork and renovations. Later, when I wanted a quick bathroom break, I felt like I knew my way around enough to duck in without asking where it was. I left my friend and his sister to their conversation and briefly disappeared.

When I went to wash my hands, I noticed there were several items sitting in the sink, like a hair dryer and curling iron. "Hmmm . . . that's a bit dangerous," I thought. But I moved them and lathered and rinsed and went about my evening. 

We had a lovely dinner and were ready to start some games when my friend got up from the table and headed toward the bathroom.

"Did you tell Courtney about the sink?" his sister called from the kitchen.

"Oh, no. But she hasn't used it."

I had to meekly pipe up, "Yeah, I did. Earlier. Why?"

"The sink's broken."

I was really puzzled at that point.  "But ... I washed my hands."

His sister hurried past me.  "The pipe's not connected! It doesn't go anywhere." 

Oh. Shit.

Luckily for her, she'd placed a small container inside the cabinet and nothing was damaged. 

Luckily for me, I'd just done a quick splish splash, rather than letting the water run while I stared at my own dumb face in the mirror or fussed with my hair or what have you. On the other hand, I hadn't made sure to sing the whole alphabet song while I scrubbed my hands. While this may not speak volumes for my personal hygiene, it saved me the embarrassment of my first impression being "destruction of property." And that's always a win in my book.

Bust a Move

I recently spent an evening with a friend whose sister just got engaged, and our conversation naturally turned to his own wedding several years ago.  I recalled how great their reception was, especially the small band they'd hired to play at the dance.  It consisted of a couple excellent dudes on instruments and a very talented and enthusiastic woman on vocals.

At one point that evening, one of my best friends from childhood sidled up next to me and asked me what I thought of the music.

Noticing how animated the voluptuous lead singer was becoming in her beautiful but low-cut outfit, I replied, "They're fantastic!  But I'm honestly a little worried that if she bounces around any more, she's going to come right out of that dress."

He shot me a sly glance and a smile.  "Then let's hope they continue to play songs that are up-tempo."

All Is Vanity

I keep a running list of vanity plates that strike me as clever, weird, or just plain odd.  They always cause me to make assumptions about the drivers. 

BAH HUM on a VW Bug (a real Scrooge)

RAINSUX on a convertible (brilliant)

NOMOBUS (upwardly mobile)

SNUGASA on a VW Bug (just adorable)

YW84NE1  (speed demon)

ILND747 (a pilot, I hope)

WEBIRIE (mellow and munchy)

SOL MAN (sun-loving musician)

BADJUJU (voodoo priest)

FROMGOD (televangelist)

PLNAHED (insurance salesman)

BUGEATR (Survivor contestant)

G8R B8T (timid wildlife wrangler)

OBLADA (Beatles fan)

OKMOM (obedient student)

CPETEGO (Pete, naturally)

MEAGAIN (stalker)

OTRLMTS (sci-fi fan)

TIE FTR (casually dressed Star Wars fan)

NERD (Trekkie fan of Pharrell)

JFKII (not a convertible, I hope)

PETRPAN (child at heart)

SMYSOSA (home run fan)

GREYMAN (aging alien lover)

1BUSYB (a real honey)

BRM BRM (Harry Potter fan)

GUDRUN (marathoner)

BGENKI (happy Japanese)

OBENTO (hungry Japanese)

OTCHTLR (over the counter Hitler?!)

GHOST 43

EMAIL

MESSAGE

I welcome any suggestions about the last four!

Paranormal Wear and Tear

A couple years ago, I went out of town with a friend for his college reunion.  The event spanned a whole weekend, so we got a hotel room. For two nights, we crawled into our beds happily exhausted from the day's sightseeing. And for two nights, we spent a couple hours pre-slumber watching a marathon of a ghost-hunting show on TV.

It was your standard "reality" program, filled with EVP static, plenty of green night vision, and manufactured "Ohmygoddidyouhearthat!?" jumpiness. So we laughed and laughed. And then we nodded off.

But it turns out that sometimes, stuff that you think is hilarious bullshit when you're with someone else is decidedly less amusing when you're back in your own house alone.  For several nights after that trip, I couldn't get images of floating bricks and infrared apparitions and demonic whispers out of my head. 

When I got together with my friend a couple weeks later, I mentioned that I'd been having trouble sleeping because of the stupid show.

"I've actually . . . had to leave my light on a few times," I admitted.  I waited for him to  scold me for being ridiculous, but he suddenly looked equally sheepish.

"Me, too."

I slept a little better that night.

Cheeky Monkey

I'm not sure if I should admit this, because I think it may not speak well of my character, but what the hell. I love graffiti.  Not artsy stuff, like the occasional spray-paint masterpieces you'll see on the sides of train cars, and not simple tagging.  But give me a random ridiculous phrase or declaration scrawled haphazardly somewhere, and you've made my day.  Some real-life examples:

"BACON" inside a bathroom stall

"Bake These Nuts" on a bus shelter

"Go for the gusto!" on a bathroom door

"Hot Apple Cider!" on an electric box

"Crack rock steady!" on a wall

"Share the Toad" road sign

"Hot Tub Tony" on a bush shelter

"SLUR" on a bus seat

I'm sometimes torn.  Half of me thinks, "What a dick!"  But the other half of me thinks, "Well, they had something they felt they needed to say." And a small fraction of me usually wonders a) why they were carrying a bold marker, b) why they took the time to carve something into a wall, and c) how they managed to do it without anyone busting them.

And don't even get me started on posters featuring people's faces that end up with mustaches, blacked-out teeth, glasses and, in the best cases, devil horns.  While I'd be super pissed if my pricey advertisement were thusly defaced (pun intended), I am utterly delighted that the inclination to uglify people's pictures is such a universal thing.

The best version of this I've ever seen involved a bench along my bus route with a photo of a guy selling houses.  One morning, feeling tired and generally kind of depressed, I happened to look out the window at this particular stop.  Some genius had taken a poster from one of the recent Planet of the Apes movies, cut out just the section featuring the glaring stare of an evil chimpanzee, and pasted it over the realtor's eyes.  The effect was seamless and unsettling and easily the funniest thing I'd seen in ages.

I laughed the whole rest of the way to work, and life seemed a little less serious.  So to this petty criminal with a sassy sense of humor, I must say thank you, wherever you are. You saved me from going bananas.