CranialSpasm

Occasionally I email myself things in the morning. They range from incoherent babbles when I am half asleep to one liners that make me laugh. This morning I got into work and opened my email and had the following message from myself.

“Diesel is just gasoline syrup, right?”

This morning I was so tired at the gas station. Waking up is always strange for me, and anyone that has slept in the same room as me can attest that I am both entertaining and make weird noises. Last night I had a dream that I woke up at work and someone was doing my job. They started yelling at me for falling asleep on the job and I was very confused as I was lying in an ornate mahogany bed with a lush red brocade duvet on me.

Anyways, I almost pumped diesel into my hybrid this morning. I had slid in my credit card and had put the nozzle into my gas tank before I realized it was green. I didn’t put any in, because I didn’t know what it would do. Initially I thought “Diesel is just more syrupy, so if I filled the car ¾ of the way and then add a bunch of water I would actually save money in the process.

I don’t know how accurate that is, so my brain said no and then forced me to cancel that transaction and start a new one at the pump.

I wonder how many people have ever tried it.

Ali: I had one of the strangest dreams last night and when I woke up I was all… WTF? Basically it was a sex dream about [name omitted] (whom I have never thought of as more than a good acquaintance). I went to bed in the dream and he slid in beside me. We had a good night and then the following morning I find out that he was HAMMERED (He’s been sober for a decade plus) and as I’m furious with him I find out that he has sold me into slavery.
Seth: That’s a heck of a relapse. Drinking and slave trading
Ali: I know. I almost sent him a message telling him I was disappointed in him.
Seth: I have had women get angry with me for things I did in their dreams.
Ali: I was only really angry about the drinking. The sex was amazing, and I could handle the slave trading, but I was all “What the fuck are all these beer bottles doing all over the floor?!?!?!”
Seth: Actually, EVERY woman I have dated has gotten annoyed with me for things they dreamt I did. Never mind what I dream about, which I wisely keep to my self.
Ali: Of course that’s the ONLY reason women have ever gotten annoyed with you.
Seth: Not fair! I never even implied that.
Ali: I’m cranky and sleepy.
Seth: Do you need a nappy change too?
Ali: I’m going to stab you in the face.
Seth: If you even dream about stabbing me in the face, you better wake up and apologize. After you dream about calling 911 and getting me dream medical attention.
Ali: It’s not a dream.
Seth: You’re going to stab me for realizes? In my oh so pretty face?
Ali: Right now? Probably. I’m so friggin tired.
Seth: Ah-ha! Too tired for face-stabbing! Face-stabbing is a very strenuous activity.
Ali: Only if someone expects it.
Seth: Like if they were warned in repeated emails?
Ali: I have only now recognized my mistake.

I posted a photo for a few friends and my buddy Sparkles said it should be a caption contest.

So… Why not?

Post a caption in the comments here (cranialspasm.com) and I’ll choose a winner. If you live in the US, I’ll mail you a prize. If you don’t live in the US, I will write a short story about a wacky adventure the two of us have and post it up here.

True story.

Ali: I didn’t get to write today… Stupid stupid.

Seth: No story, no gumbo.

Ali: I’M SORRY! WIN THE LOTTO AND PAY ME TO WRITE IT!

Seth: No, I pay in gumbo.
If I win the lotto we are forming an arts colony that happens to own a bar.

Ali: … I need money to be happy.

Seth: My gumbo will keep you nourished and motivated, then the money comes when it starts selling.

Ali: I get worried when I don’t have any money.

Seth: Me too.

Ali: So instead of giving me a steady allowance, you will cash all of your winnings into gold coins less what it will take for an operation that will allow you to breathe fire. You’re going to dragon horde your riches while I sit in abject poverty with random cardboard pieces with little bits of my story written on them in blood and feces.
… You, sir, are a monster.

Seth: No no no no!
Arts Colony that owns Bar! That’s not dragon-hoarding, it’s material, financial, moral, and alcohol support!

Ali: YOU ARE LEAVING ME WITH POOP AND BLOOD! Poop is the DEVIL’S fingerpaint!