Friday, December 14, 2001

After eating a DELICIOUS meal at LuLu's the other night, our favorite middle-eastern restaurant, we were driving home with Tim past the cemetaries in the middle of town. We were talking about Chris Farley being buried there. Tim said he's buried in a mausoleum in an unmarked plot, as rumour has it about Madison's favorite late comedic son. Tim says that he thinks he knows which one though, because there's two unmarked plots right together.

Ba-da-bing ba-da-boom.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 9:04 AM || link it email me

Trust me when I say I do not trust my government. Trust me when I say I believe the account I heard of the man who went to the post office to buy stamps for a non-profit bulk mailing, and when he requested any stamp style except the American Flag stamps, he was not allowed to buy stamps let alone interrogated for hours by post office officials regarding his motivations. Trust me when I believe of the account of the 19-year-old college student who while getting ready for a date on a Saturday night, found government agents at her door demanding to be let in to scope out her apartment because someone had "tipped them off" about a not-so-flattering George Bush poster in her possession. Trust me when I believe there are bad things happening to innocent citizens and legal aliens and guests in our country who unfortunately happen to fit the profile of the day. There's a lot in our government that I do not trust.

However I do trust that the Bin Laden tape is authentic.

If this was faked, I believe the quality would look better, yet worse. It would have a grunge filter to give the impression of an amateur video, yet it would also a have the quality of Forest Gump meets JFK. Yes, amazing things can be done with digital imaging, yet it always looks like that....amazing. This tape was hardly amazing. It was poor quality. If we were to fake something like this, it would be done much better. We would have more to lose than faking something like this than not. And it's not an outright confession...it's only an indictment...if we were to take the time and care (and risk) to fake it, why not have it an outright confession? And what about Bin Laden himself? Doesn't he come off as sort of a reticent dainty fruitcake in his movements? Don't you think we would've made him look more megamaniacal? More like an evil dictator?

I hope we capture him alive. I hope he gets to spend a long, long, pathetic life in prison becoming Bubba's bitch. Yup. That's what I hope. No martyrdom for him. Too bad I don't trust my government to keep him alive for that pathetic, miserable, grueling imprisoned existence.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 8:52 AM || link it email me

Thursday, December 13, 2001

My dream last night must have taken place over 20, 25 years ago, although I had the feelings/mind of the way I am now. I was with my mom and we were visiting my grandmother. My mom took a bus to Milwaukee to visit a friend, but she didn't take me with her. So I was stuck with my grandmother in Racine and absolutely bored out of my mind with nothing to do and nowhere to go. I remember walking past my grandmother's bedroom and she was sleeping in the middle of the day.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 9:33 AM || link it email me

Wednesday, December 12, 2001

Went to see the doctor (actually, physician's assistant) today for one of *those* exams. I asked her about my problem with nausea, lightheadeness and emptiness in my stomach. She thinks it's stress related and that I'm not going through menopause (which may not necessarily be a good thing, depending on your point of view...would be easier if it was just the old presto-change-o...no more worrying about birth control). Told me to try over-the-counter medication for acid reflux for a month and if it doesn't get better to get it checked out by a doctor. Gaack...I hate seeing doctors. This whole thing seemed to start in the summer...I'd get super hungry and when there wasn't any food in the house, I'd get really sick and nauseous, but just within the last few days I've started actually throwing up from the nausea. She also said ibuprofen causes stomach problems and I do take that, but I have no choice...it's the only thing that gets rid of cramps. I took some today because I was going for one of *those* exams and I wanted it to hurt less...heh heh (I hate getting raped by a speculum) and I did throw up this morning, but I don't know if that was from the ibuprofen or because I was stressed about *that* exam. I threw up Sunday and I hadn't taken any thing...just ate some bad stuffed clams Stan had attempted to make...did not sit well. I don't know...when I was young and got stressed I couldn't eat at all. Now I get super hungry/faint/lightheaded like I'm just going to die if I don't eat? Doesn't seem like the way I've processed stress in the past, unless what I'm experiencing now is the super deluxe stress package.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 1:31 PM || link it email me

I had a very weird, and yes, convoluted dream again last night. Let's see if I can remember:

I was in a classroom situation. We were discussing a lot of things that I can't remember. We had a written test, and I didn't know the answers. Also, Stan was with me and he kept acting like he wanted to respond to the discussion, but when the teacher asked him if he had anything to say, he said he didn't, and then he sort of scolded Stan for speaking in class when he didn't have a question or anything to contribute. I felt really embarrassed and looked over at Stan and he looked so much younger...geeky even. I was embarrassed that he was there with me. The teacher was handing back the papers of our tests and I saw that I did really well, scoring a 98%. Some people even scored 137% and odd numbers like that. Then we left the class and were with a friend of ours from college and we got a motel together because we were travelling. We decided to get two different rooms instead of one so that she would have more privacy...supposedly according to the dream, up until then we had been just getting one room to save money. But this motel was rather inexpensive, so we decided to live a little better. I think this a reocurring motel in my dreams, but each time it is a little different. This time it was extremely rustic...stylistically, it's mid 20th century rustic trash....picture the Great Northern hotel from Twin Peaks as a mom'n'pop motel in a little dinky rural town. I liked the room Stan and I got...there were two beds, but one was a king so we could even sleep in the same bed. The other bed was rather small...somewhere between the size of a twin bed and a double bed. We took a look at the room that our friend had, which was separated from ours by an entry/hallway. She had a very narrow bed, and there were lots of quilts thrown around furniture throughout, but the weird thing was that there was a gigantic log laying lengthwise in the room. It was propped up by furniture. It really made moving around the room difficult. She was rather mad that we had paid for a suite and her room was pretty much unlivable. We told her that she could sleep in the 2nd bed in our room. I was also trying to make matters better by saying, "this room isn't that bad, it's rather unique and humorous. Maybe I'll sleep here," even though I didn't mean it. Then this part of the dream is really weird and hard to explain. Stan and I were looking at some strange plastic things like the size of a deck of cards that had writing on them that were supposedly the last things George Harrison wrote before he died. It didn't make any sense...they sounded sort of paranoid...Stan and I were trying to decipher any meaning to them, but we were just baffled.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 9:34 AM || link it email me

I'm so excited! A friend from Colorado has decided to go with a blog of her own that I'll set up and maintain for her. She is an excellent (and published!) writer and makes some incredibly pointed and sensible opinions that I'm sure will cause some controversy, especially amongst younger generations (she's older than me and you know I'm an old curmudgeon older than the hills in cyber years).
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 9:15 AM || link it email me

Why does my blog come up #18 on a Google search for Mayor Giulliani? That's just weird. It's not even my city.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 9:13 AM || link it email me

Tuesday, December 11, 2001

Yet another convoluted dream last night. I was with some people and we were going to a very posh restaurant. I'm not sure, but I think Jerry Seinfeld was there...or maybe he was later in the dream. We sat down at a table for six (I think that's about how many people were with us) and then a waitress told us that we really should sit at a different table, that we would be more comfortable there, that it was their best table. I looked over at the other table; it seemed in a disadvantageous spot. I didn't want to sit there, but the party I was with started to move over. I remarked so that everyone in the restaurant could hear: "This is where they put people they don't want other people to see." I think I was drunk. Then it became strange...tables turned into bleachers and people were throwing food around like a drunken orgy. There was food everywhere including the floor. The party seemed to be break up; I remember Jerry being chased down a city street by young fans. Meanwhile, I as I was leaving this area, I saw a waitress/maid cleaning up the mess. There was no tip for her on the table; I assumed it was taken care of by the more wealthier people that had taken me out. I felt bad for this woman who seemed to be an immigrant, but I didn't have any money myself to tip her with. I didn't know if she would understand that I was poor myself and that I was just here with the other people sort of against my will. So I ignored her, hoping I wouldn't catch her glance. Then I was in this strange building that sold or made bicycles. It was getting dark, near closing time. They pulled this lever that caused a chain door to come down fast, closing up the store. It trapped me in. I yelled at them to let me out and the old guy running the place (that was sort of like Tim's dad, but not Tim's dad) cheerfully let me out. There was a woman there who was like Pistol Packin' Pat, but I hope it wasn't her. Then I rode this bicycle back home in the dark and I realized I was heading toward my grandmother's house (toward the back entrance on Wolff street).
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 9:39 AM || link it email me

Monday, December 10, 2001

WHOAH!!!!! Did I end up on the wrong test or WHAT?!?

posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 10:21 PM || link it email me

According to this test, I'm a histrionic avoidant paranoid schizotypal.

But then maybe I'm just being paranoid....

link it

email me

I remember another part of my dream. For some reason Stan's (adoptive) mom pronounced my last name "Shetton" so I corrected her but when I pronounced it myself, I pronounced it "Shtretton" and I laughed and said "I can't even pronounce my own last name correctly. I hate my last name." Then I realize I had said this in front of Stan's parents (his adoptive father is deceased IRL) and I felt really bad because I had the option of taking Stan's last name when I married but I didn't. I felt totally embarrassed.
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 11:09 AM || link it email me

Convoluted dream. I was with some people at some sort of outdoor event. We were sitting around fold-out tables...it had sort of a party/circus atmosphere. This is really hard to explain, but it was like I had been there before and I was getting a dejavu. There was some sort of hole in the table that had a lid on it...I remembered I had been fooling around with it before, and in this dream they had replaced the lid with an old fashioned pop bottle top. The people I was with were hoping we weren't going to get in trouble for messing around with it. I decided I wanted to go home, and walked over to the edge of the party which was near a street which was sort of like a passenger drop off lane at an airport. I was squatting down at the curb with my back to the street, holding on to a signpost and cars and cabs and busses were whizzing by me, some sideswiping me. It hurt. Finally I saw a bus that was marked "G" and somehow I knew this bus would take me home. I got on it and was having a hard time finding a seat by myself. I sat down on one of those sideways seats. For some reason the seat was really short and slanted and I kept slipping off of it. I suspect there was more to my dream, but I can't remember.

(Yes, as a matter of fact, I DID take drugs before I went to sleep...Tums and Ibuprofen)
posted by Ann-S-Thesia at 9:48 AM || link it email me