It was 5am in the CAD Monkey household, and I was having a dream that I was shooting a live news report in an “architecturally significant” high school, where the student body of said high school was awaiting the arrival of Christina Ho-guilera.* The school’s hallways- floors, walls, everything- were clad in tiles, alternating between 2 colors of blue-green. Hideous. The columns were covered in mirrored tiles. Also hideous. How this building was supposed to be “architecturally significant” is a secret shared by my subconscious and the Frito pie I had for dinner the night before. Also, I was apparently the TV camera- not the camera operator, nor the newscaster; I was the actual camera. Again, I stress, Frito pie.
On the fringes of consciousness, I hear:
hork…hork…hork…speeeyackbluck
Oh, goody. The cat has hurled. I’ll clean it up in an hour, when the alarm goes off.
clackity clackity clackity…
The Dog goes to investigate whether the cat hork is in a spot accessible to her eating it.
clackity clackity clackity…apparently it is not. That means the cat has chosen her favorite Spot o’ the Hurl: the bathroom windowsill. The Dog lies back down, and resumes the never-ending task of licking her stank feet. With dawning revulsion, I realize that the cat is probably undertaking the horror The Dog had intended to commit. I go clean it up.
Good Friday, my ass.
*I also blame the Frito pie for my subconscious’s choice of skanky celebrity.
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