"LAST NIGHT I DREAMT..."

I had the funniest dream last night! If I write it all down super-fast I'll remember everything, but if I wait, I'll start forgetting it....

In the dream, I had kids-- twin boys names Ezra and Ike and they were a little bit Jackass and a little bit Bart Simpson. They also, as might be predicted, have adorably filthy little mouths. So, in the dream, I was telling them they'd go visit their cousins in the spring and won't that be great and blah blah as the whole family is making dinner. So, Ike laughs as he's chopping up salad and goes:

Ike: "Man, I know they're my cousins and all, but those kids are fucking fags."
Me: "Ike David! What the fuck are you talking like that for?"
Baby Daddy: "What did you say?"
Ike: "I'm not saying fag like gay! I'm not! I mean fag like dumbass."

And when he said "dumbass" the fours of us all suddenly reacted to a family ritual that is sort of like when one sees a Volkswagen Beetle-- slug the arm of the person near you. Only we all slugged each other and shouted "dumbass!" then I returned to my lecture and told him we had lots of gay men friends, as he well knew, and that he shouldn't say such things and he took the salad bowl to the table and mumbled, "Fine, you're right. But, I'm telling you, those stupid cousins fucking suck. They're so lame." Baby Daddy snickers and returns to chopping something, Ike points and says, "See, Ma? He knows!"

There was a long pause and then I asked Ezra, who was sauteeing some vegetables (my kids both cook!) if he'd finished his homework.

"Yeah, I knocked it out, yo. But, fucking Ike didn't do shit yet."
"Ike, did you finish your homework yet or are you doing it after dinner?"
"G-ddamnit, I forgot."
"Okay, do it after."

And he, Ike, started talking about said calculus homework and we were all laughing about it and Ezra and Baby Daddy are cracking themselves up over a play on (mathematical) words. Mind you, the kids were about nine or ten. (My kids are so smart!)

So, some kid stops by later, and Ike and Ezra offer him anything when he comes. (My boys have manners!) The kid says he'd like a bottle of water. I say, "I'm heading that way, I'll grab it." I bring him back this bottle of water and he says, "Sweet" and nods to me. Ike faces his palm at this kid and goes, "Whoa! Fucking say thank you to my Ma, shithead." And the kid does.

Then, we are going to Baby Neptune's Bar Mitzvah and I got up to do one of the Torah Blessings. My Hebrew is good and the tune is right but it's a little too quiet. I sit back down and Ike and Ezra tell me it "was too quiet, dumbass" and we all slug each other and whisper "dumbass" in shul at Neptune's Bar Mitzvah.

Then, I woke up with my cat trying to paw at my eyelid.

"A RUSH AND A PUSH AND THE LAND IS OURS"

The strange posting ahhj at Jewcy was worked out. Here is my post about the strange flavors of soda Jones Soda Co. has whipped out for Christmas and Chanukah, here is my post about the Bal Shem Tov, and here is my post about a fab organization, Jewish Women International.

Who shall I look forward to seeing at The Fixx tonight? John Sheppard and Renee Rosen, people! There or square, yes.

In other news, my radiators are either off or blasting. Try not to let this turn you on so very much, but boob sweat only minutes after getting out of the shower and drying off is so bleh-feeling. In still other news, I had a dream last night that Baby Neptune could and did fly. Not like little cherubic fluttering wings, either. No, the tiny little guy would look over and giggle and blast off, and his parents, Mr. & Ms. Mermaidhead, were really pissed off about how "disruptive and aggressive" his flying was and were a little miffed that I thought it was such a riot. I mean, c'mon. He's this maverick daredevil badass flying baby. That's funny.

"ACCEPT YOURSELF"

At about 4:30 am, I was having a dream that I was talking about my brother's recent travels in South America (fictional), and how I suspected he'd brought back a strange frog with him. As I was describing the dream, I heard the frog flapping around, so I turned off the lights and tried to find him, hoping to return the frog to my brother, nearly 1,000 miles away (not fictional). So I was in the dark, trying to find a frog (Dunno why I thought being n the dark would help my chances of finding the frog) and dreamed that he (the frog) suddenly started flopping around and jumping all over, so when I (not dream me, but actual me) thought something hit my chest, I woke up and jumped out of bed with a little scream. Kitty meowed and hopped onto the dresser, I flipped on the light and quickly realized, after shaking out all the covers in a dreamy-haze, there was no South American frog in my apartment.

I read a magazine for a bit until my heart rate returned to normal, then fell back asleep and started dreaming about trying to get crated artwork on a plane as a carry-on with a group of people.

Hi kids, how the effing eff are youse? So, I suppose I should catch you up:

Turns out, Needle-In-Chest/Lung is less pleasant than Needle-In-Boob. But, I'm okay. I'm always okay. I don't have breast cancer and I sho' don't have breast cancer that got over-ambitious and fashioned itself into lung cancer. I don't have anything. I'm good, great even, and I am over needles for the time being.

Speaking of boobage, check out what Goaty sent me: Right here. It's funny how this boob ordeal has changed my thinking a little about boobs. Stuff like this is really amazing to me all of a sudden, where it would have probably just been too-lame-to-think-about before. Now, I get this feeling... having played out scenarios in my head of being boobless, and brainstorming every think I possibly can to keep them just on and healthy, boob slings and implants and shit, outside of a reconstructive purpose, just really seems so extra weird to me, like listening to people speak a language I can't speak at all.

Anyway.

I got a lot done in the past week, most of which I'm proud of, and I have two fun new projects coming up you'll hear about in the next couple of days that I'm super-excited about. As for now, I'm caught up for the time being, so I'm going to sit and write on manuscripts and chill.

But!

I'm still looking to make my website, Guth-a-Go-Go, look like Alton Brown's website, and need a web dude or dudette to make that happen. I don't need anyone to maintain it, per se, just put the bones up and make it rad and I'll keep it updated. That much html I do know. Please, please email with rates and time frame and we'll work it out. So long as it doesn't involve whoring myself, I'd even be willing to work out a trade of some kind. Anything. I just need to get that website hoppin' with a quickness.

"I WAS HAPPY TO STAY"

It's a long story as to what I was searching and why and how I ended up with this image, but something about chocolate peas and carrots made me laugh.

Anyway, what's new, kids? I wrote a lot yesterday. And wrote a draft I was really happy with right off the bat and felt excited to write more of. That's a very good sign. Last night I had a dream that Ma Guth and I were evening gown-clad con women in Vegas, then in a few other places, and were telling people we were sisters. (Which, hello, to her delight, we have been mistaken for more than once.) We were stashing cash in my radiator, which Ma Guth rolled underneath and disabled, making it our safe. Anyway, we got about six hundred thousand stuffed into the radiator and went to dinner and were in danger of being ratted out, but everything turned out okay until a wine glass got broken and my Dad was nearly in tears over it. I have weird dreams. News?

My lease expired last night, so I called my landlady again this morning for a gentle reminder, this time as a squatter, and straightened that out. I'm staying put another year, luckily, so you kids don't have to start fretting for another year that I'll go get a job in a Ghanaian orphanage, or as a Tibetan gardener, or as an Anguillan wine steward, never to be heard from again. I'm solid for another year. Whew. Someone is moving into one of the two open apartments in the building today and, I must say, this is the quietest move-in I've ever eavesdropped. I love this neighbor already. Maybe I should put pants on and go say hello. I think I will.

I'm using iGTD productivity software for the second day and I think I love it. I think. We'll see.

I feel good today after yesterday's venting and writing. I have to remember to do that more often.

"NO HOPE, NO HARM, JUST ANOTHER FALSE ALARM...?"

I've never read any Harry Potter. I've never read it, I've never seen the films, I've never eaten the vomit and earwax jellybeans. There, I've said it. Finally. I guess I'm not inclined. I don't have anything against little Harry Potter, I have nothing but love for wizards and shit, but I guess I would have read it all by now if I was going to. Yeah, yeah, never say never. I know.

Anyway, more strange dreams last night. I booked passage on a cruise ship and arrived to find people sleeping in shitty, leaky bins like sardines. And, thin, sickly, weary people, too. All wedged into little more than shelves, Auschwitz-style. As I'd be clicking along in a good conversation with someone, they'd vanish into thin air. The sleeping quarters were all under water, and looking out the little round window (I know there is a name for them, but I can't recall it at the moment-- Pa Guth?? Anyone?) creeped me out, so I slept on a deck chair upstairs near the poor, which was drained and dirty. I think I thought we were to sail through tropical water, but we were leaving New York harbor, circa Ellis Island's heyday, and quickly were in thick fog and chilly weather. but, I stayed on my deck chair and it warmed up and as it warmed, the ship became nicer and nicer until it was what I thought I was booking in the first place. Then, I was with Mermaidhead and we were in a strange city, though she kept insisting we were in Edinburgh because she wasn't "pregnant yet", though we were not, and I looked at a calendar and it was 1997 and she and I were doing that urban exploration rooftop-hop thing, then found a secret tunnel and ended up in these huge, glittery caverns, and met up with a few other people in the caverns, then went back to running rooftops and sliding down drainpipes and having so much fun. Then, there was a calendar in a window I peeked through and it was 2008 and Mermaidhead's kid-to-be was a toddler and running rooftops with this group of us, and though he was a toddler, he was far stronger and faster than any of us. Then, I told her I had to get back, and was suddenly back on the cruise liner and sat on the pool deck in the deck chair with legal pads and wrote and wrote until I was exhausted.

Thinly-veiled perceived state-of-the-career dream, I think, my friends....?