Pancake Land is watching you pee. or I will name him My Squishy.

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June 13, 2009 by sandwichcontrol

On the scale from zero to one hundred, where one hundred is dead, Pancake Land has described herself at around 78. She was at about 85 a few days ago, so, we are making progress. In the words of Miracle Max she has been “mostly dead” all week. She has created a term that is sort of the umbrella disease of Cymbalta withdrawal, she calls it Pudding Brain. Pudding Brain covers the brain zaps, the brain nausea, and also the bubble wrap-popping brain. She stares at things a lot. She came into the bathroom yesterday whilst I was urinating and just stood there and watched. I was strange. She had come in there to get her “medicine” or something, but as soon as she saw me peeing, Brain Zap!, and she just stood there frozen while her brain rebooted. On a less surreal note. There is a new little baby fish, one that I tried to photograph to show you to no avail, in our fish tank. Pancake Land says that if we name it, then the other fish cannot eat it. She, in her child-like state of mind, named it My Squishy. For those of you who have not been around a child for the past five years, that is a quote from Finding Nemo. Squishy is the name that Ellen Degeneres’ character Dory names her newly found baby jelly fish. Anyways, My Squishy lives in the chunk-o-coral that resides at the bottom of the fish tank and serves as both shelter for the little guys and also home of the huge placastimus that eats the poopooo. Last night I had a really intense dreams. I normally do not get the luxury of remembering my dreams, but for the last few weeks, I’ve been remembering them. The weirdest part is that the dreams are like episodes. They have the same group of people in them. Usually it just my friends and the Queen of England and Tom Waits. Last night’s episode was like the two-hour season finale. Starring in no particular order : Tom Waits as the taxi driver, the Queen of England as my badass swordsman body guard, Kevin Smith with special guest David Duchovny, in the style of Abbot and Costello, as the butlers at my apartment in Riverwalk Terrace, and my uncle Clint Eastwood. The story was that my uncle was coming to visit and I had to cook him dinner during a siege of zombie ninjas. Since Clint Eastwood is a vegan, crazy I know, I had to acquire groceries to accommodate his diet, since I am not a vegan. Unfortunately, my apartment was being attacked by zombie ninjas and I was having the most difficult time getting to the grocery store. Luckily my two butlers, Silent Bob and Fox Mulder, were good enough to slap-stickily board up windows and barracade the doors, whilst my body guard, HRM the Queen, hacked away at zombie ninjas Madmartigan style. When the wave of ninjas slowed, we made a run for my car, a yellow taxi circa The Shadow driven by Tom Waits. So Tom Waits, the Queen of England, and I go to the mall. To find vegan friendly groceries. It was awful. The rest of the dream is sort of a blur of Clint Eastwood talking/sneering about Baba Ganouj. The crazy dreams in my life are usually the dreams of others that are shared with me in conversation. This time they are all mine. I do not have much on my plate for today, but as you know, me being the skinny fat man, I am sure it will fill up quickly. Right! Off to the shower, then. More soon. ~SC


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