(no subject)

I'm letting J. sleep late today. He conked out on the couch in a ridiculous posture all night with the lights on and that can't have been restful.

This is my way of buttering him up to take me to the fabric store. I need new buttons on my brown coat and I've been putting it off for too damn long. He can't really complain, though, because there's a nice aquarium shop next door and he can go look at turtles and feed the koi while I browse.

My face looks florid lately. Ugh. I've been as per usual avoiding the sun (*hissssssss*) and I haven't changed my skincare routine and I have no history of rosaecea but I'm looking like a damn Oompa-Loompa and my mug doesn't match my neck.

(no subject)

"Father Figure" by George Michael is a really creepy song.

How appropriate it was the soundtrack to this naaaasty dystopian forced-birth nightmare I had last night. IN it, the government decided that J. and I were of "superlative stock" and made us have a baby. The baby was ugly and resembled something like an anencephalic torpedo with an extra umbilicus coming out of the top of its head (ostensibly to connect it to Big Brother). The government agent then informed us we would have to name the thing.

"Name? I don't even want this creature, you expect me to name it? name it what?" And with that, the baby opened it's mouth and said "Adolf."

"What?"
"Adolf."
"DID THIS THING JUST SAY ADOLF? Aw hell no, this is bad enough without having it be ADOLF!"

So J. says "Well, name it something else then, so we can leave. How about Pete or Mickey or Joe--" and the thing said "I can live with Joe" and I said "NO, you are not allowed to be called Joe! And stop talking, this is disturbing enough!"

Then we got in the car and got lost at JFK and I woke up and was never so glad to be nulliparous.