Tag Archives: random ramblings

Last night, I had a really strange, very real feeling dream. There were a bunch of parts to it, like I was watching a movie, but the last bit felt like the longest storyline.

I had moved to a small town—it reminded me of Weston, MO—charming, full of history, haunting, lovely…but it wasn’t Weston. I think it was actually someplace in Alaska, perhaps. Maybe even Longyearbyen on Svalbard. (I watch too many of Sejsejlija’s videos on TikTok about that place!) It was the type of small town where everyone was familiar with all who lived there—their residences, frequent hangout spots, etc.

Moving on, though…I was at the small grocery store, waiting in line to check out with a few items, when I heard a man speaking English with some sort of accent (Russian?). He was beginning to raise his voice at an employee, because he was upset they were out of stock of eggplants. I believe I briefly met this man earlier in my dream, and he had come across as a tough guy who was generally unhappy.

I left the line and walked towards the small commotion, because it occurred to me that I had had an eggplant in my cart earlier, then had set it somewhere it didn’t belong, when I had decided I didn’t want the vegetable.

On the way over to the man and employee, I grabbed the misplaced eggplant. When I arrived to the growing argument, I interrupted and explained how there was indeed still an eggplant in stock, and that I was very sorry I had misplaced it earlier.

That is when I handed it to the man. He seemed more relieved than anything, and proceeded to tell me that he had recently lost his grandmother and wanted to cook the eggplant how she used to, in homage of her.

Then, in a strange turn, as dreams like to do, he asked if I would help him out and cook it for him, as he was not adept in the kitchen.

To sort of make up for the havoc my earlier actions inevitably contributed to, I agreed to cook the eggplant. We exchanged numbers, so he could take his other groceries home, and I could also head to my home to prepare his Grandmother’s recipe.

Next thing I know, I’m in my kitchen, talking to this man on the phone, following cooking instructions his grandmother had left him. The eggplant definitely did NOT cook like a real eggplant! When I was done, it looked more like fried “chicken of the woods” (a mushroom, Laetiporus sulphureus—-yes, I had to Google that mushroom’s name)

As it was finishing, the man walks through my front door without even knocking! I made a mental note to start keeping that door locked. He had known where I lived, because earlier in the dream, my odd residence was a huge discussion. And as I mentioned, this was the type of town where everyone knew who lived where.

I divvied up the cooked eggplant between us, and we had dinner while standing in my living room, discussing memories of the departed and other topics I can’t quite recall.

This is where the dream became really odd…

While eating, an ex boyfriend of mine (who I haven’t seen since I was 19) walked through the door and asked to join us. We finished eating, and then the man (no, I never remembered his name) left and the ex and I discussed all the repairs my apartment needed.

An aside—from what I can gather, I lived in a very small, partly renovated loft atop an old building on the Main Street. The main, HUGE window had some stretchy canvas instead of glass, and the floor wasn’t finished, so I could only walk on certain spots in my living room/bedroom—sort of like an unfinished attic.

That’s pretty much it—that’s my dream. My cat woke me, so she could be fed breakfast, before the dream’s plot could go any further.


1. Ever have one of those days where it doesn’t matter how much coffee you drink, how much cold air blasts in your face, how many showers you take or how many jumping jacks you do, you just can’t seem to wake up? This is today.

2. I fail at eye-drops. Since I don’t feel like walking all the way to the bathroom to use the mirror, I re-wet my eyes/contacts at my desk. Unfortunately, my aim in general (with anything) is not the most stellar in the world. The first two drops generally end up rolling down my cheek, missing my eyes completely. The third drop might hit my lashes, giving me a very nice streak of mascara down my face. Finally, drops four and five are a bull’s-eye.

Then I repeat on the other side. SAME EXACT THING HAPPENS.

And there you have it; now I sit at my desk looking as if I just lost my dog and am an emotional mess, when truth be told….I just need better hand to eye coordination.

3. Stomach aches are stupid.


A couple random things..


I have this BAD habit of leaving a mug half full of coffee on my desk, undrank….unused…sad…and forgotten.

Not today. Today, I am chugging it so that I won’t have a caked-on-goopy mess in my mug, come Monday! 

Besides, I smile every time I pick up my mug, because it rests on a coaster that holds the face of Ron Burgundy, and when I see it, I then quote “Anchorman” in my head while drinking my bev.  Good times….Stay classy, San Diego.


Sometimes, I get the urge to walk around with something on my face, just to see if anyone will notice or point it out to me….

Then, the urge passes….

And I remove the fake mustache.



By the way…

Just so you know, I’m still here!

Apparently, two jobs makes it very difficult to blog!  Gee, who knew!!?? ;)

So, until I can find/make time to write down some funny and/or embarrassing stories about myself, here are some of my “Random Rambling/s”.  I hope my brain is laughable today…maybe if I add some more coffee…. (YES, Caffeine is my answer to almost everything.)


I like the taste of oranges, but I detest peeling them!  This is generally what happens:

-Try peeling orange with fingernail–fingernail becomes full of pulp

-Clear out pulp from fingernail, attempt a second time to peel the fragrant fruit

-Fingernail bends backwards, small cry of pain escapes mouth

-Borrow orange peeler; begin peeling

-Juice squirts into face

-stab orange with pointy end of orange-peeler

-Juice runs down arm

-wipe juice off with napkin; borrow giant knife

-cut orange into quarter sections

-attempt to peel with fingernails again, obtaining more rind under the nails during the process

-juice squirts into hair

-throw the orange in the trash; go to store to stock up on canned Mandarin oranges


Totally kidding on the plural of “Ramble”….you only get this ONE…for now. :)

Random Ramblings 11-7

I’ve decided that the male voice of our building’s elevators is malicious.  I mean, I hardly think that it’s a good thing to hear a menacing, robotic voice telling me I’m “going down”!  That just sounds like a threat to me.  They should just add “Sucka” to the end of the voice recording and be done with it!  Can you imagine?

You push the button with the down arrow picture on it, and the doors of the elevator open, warmly inviting you in…so you think.  Then, you press the button representing your desired floor, and the doors promptly CLOSE, trapping you inside the metal box, and a robotic voice exclaims, “You’re Going Down, SUCKA!”

Actually…they really should set the elevators up like that.  It’d be hilarious!


Why has nothing been invented to alter taste buds?  I would love it if I could make cauliflower taste like Doritos.  I would eat ALL THE CAULIFLOWER.  What else?  Oh!  I want this taste-bud alter machine to also have texture capabilities…..anything soggy would be perceived as crunchy! YES!!!! 

Someone invent this…and then give me one…for Christmas. Thanks!


Last night, I had a weird dream.  I’ll spare the details, but the gist of it is this:

Shannon and I bought a pig in Asia for a pet.  We brought it home.  I had a whole section of our deck set up for our new, little pet, complete with a blown up vanity. (I don’t know why.)  After bringing our little guy home, Shannon reads that there’s some disease that he can get, and now we have to get rid of the pig.  But I argue that the article he read says that the only way the pig will catch the disease is if we feed him an incredibly large amount of cake, and as long as we just never give him cake, we’ll be fine.  Shannon still doesn’t want to take that chance, and I’m all upset and trying to figure out how to keep our pig…..then I wake up.



Re-Post PT Massacre #leahwouldblog

This is a re-post from my previous blog, but I felt the need to re-iterate it, because I experienced it again today. :)

There are two types of paper towels that show up in our women’s restroom. There are the cloth-like ones, and the more papery ones. As of this minute, and the moments filling the past couple of weeks, we have been only provided the more papery ones. I have not figured out who came up with this certain material for paper towels, but I don’t think he/she thought it through thoroughly. Just one towel…never works.

As usual, after relieving my bladder of its gallon of water, I go to wash my hands, and then of course, to dry them. I reach for this thin, should-be translucent, piece of paper that is supposed to be useful. At the first touch of my wet fingertips, it completely disintegrates! My hands are still sopping wet, so I reach for another, with the same result! When I try for my third paper towel, only a corner of it will rip off, and the rest remains lodged in the paper towel dispenser with, what I assume to be, its original tree family! This must be why it does NOT want to leave its cramped, little spot, and it battles hard. It fights…to the death! It is not until it is in at least four small, unusable pieces that I finally dislodge it from its happy place. So now that I have disintegrated three paper towels, and dismembered a fourth, I go all gung ho, and plunge my hand deep into the home of these worthless scraps! I pull out a handful of probably 10-20 papers, and finally I have enough to dry my hands-too much, in fact. After my prolonged and frustrating drying of the hands, there have somehow survived at least five dry towels, and as much as I try, I cannot make use of them! My hands are completely dry and now in need of lotion! And as much as I TRY, I can NOT seem to stuff the leftover ones back into the dispenser! It’s as if they’ve decided it is more fun to SPITE me than to return to their proper waiting place! Those five left standing in my hands can just go bury their loved ones, then, because I used the rest of them to their fullest, and as far as I’m concerned, they can now to go paper towel heaven, and they shouldn’t have put up so much of a fight!! If they’d come out easily, then only a few towels would have been sacrificed to the dripping hands!!! But now…there was nothing but unnecessary violence in the bathroom, a PT Massacre.

Another Dream #leahwouldramble

It happened again.

Not a surprise, because it happens somewhat often.

A dream that feels real…completely and utterly real.

Most of it is a haze, but what I remember is being part of some HUGE school.  There was really strange training going on there, and at one point, I was driving a car in this gigantic, open area, and slamming my breaks often, to avoid running into all the large trucks carrying what looked like colossal missiles!  Then, whoever was in charge assigned me and four other people to be required to survive a day…completely blind.  We were going to be required to carry out certain duties like drive a vehicle, cook a scrumptious meal, and basically just SURVIVE without any help from others, relying on all of our instincts WITHOUT SIGHT.  I think the other people in my group were old friends from high school, but I can’t pinpoint who they were precisely.  I remember feeling panic and anxiety…loads of it!

Then, I awoke in real life to an earsplitting clap of thunder that jolted me from bed at 5am, feeling the same urgency, and was left wondering HOW I was going to carry out my day, blind.  Obviously, I was still half-way in dream mode because I was trying to figure out how was I going to drive to work…I thought,

”Should I practice by closing my eyes as I make my way to the restroom?   I can’t do this!  I can’t DRIVE and work on a computer BLIND!!!” 

I was seriously panicked for about 30 seconds before I realized it was all just a lingering dream.

“Roaches Crunch” #leahwouldramble

A recent conversation, AND a recently viewed episode of “Kitchen: Impossible” has reminded me of my LOATHING for roaches.  Even now, as I write this, I feel the little “tickles” of invisible bugs crawling on my skin.  There are several insects I don’t care for, including wasps, bumblebees, ants…but MOST OF ALL—roaches.  Sure those other insects cause pain, but the roach exceeds that discomfort with “disgustingness”!  (I am discounting any crazy, tropical, man-eating bugs from any rainforest, etc. I don’t ever plan on encountering ANY of those.)


Thing is….in our old house when I was about seven or eight years old, there was a tree in the backyard that was infested with these:  http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.dirtdoctor.com/pics/content_img.4012.img.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.dirtdoctor.com/Cockroaches_vq710.htm&h=1298&w=1944&sz=449&tbnid=HEDPyMJahxqXyM:&tbnh=81&tbnw=122&zoom=1&usg=__fuJ2gl8rjQLuRErxJ4L0Sywn6g4=&docid=pIYKgDXyzrNURM&sa=X&ei=MbKbUejNPJGx4AO9ioDACA&ved=0CDsQ9QEwAA&dur=286



They’re actually a water bug/some sort of oriental roach…whatever….they’re all disgusting cockroaches to me!!! SO…since this tree was infested, naturally, they made their way to our house….mainly to the basement….which is where my bedroom happened to be. SO…it was a fairly frequent occurrence, before having that tree removed at least, to smash these bugs when I saw them…in my bedroom…bathroom…play area in basement, etc. It REALLY grossed me out because not only did it often take 5-10 stomps to kill the little sons-of-bugbitches, they would also have the most disgusting guts ooze out of their bodies….EVEN when they were still crawling around after a couple stomps!! Like a rotten curd of cottage cheese sticking out of its side as it limps along!  **SHUDDERS**


UGH……and the CRUNCH noise…..ICK!!!!!! The sound makes me want to vomit RIGHT HERE AND NOW.


Seriously….makes me feel sick! (Side note: my brothers would taunt me at dinnertime, saying “Roaches crunch!” maliciously, so that I’d get that ‘visual/sound’ in my head, and I could/would not eat!)


Well there’s the background…I’m already grossed out by these vermin…and then….


One day, we’re moving boxes, etc. around in the basement, just doing some re-organizing, spring cleaning…that sort of thing. After a bit of this, I walk into my bedroom to take a break…I keep feeling a tickle on my back/shoulders….and finally I reach to scratch the offending spot, AND KNOCK A ROACH OFF MY BACK!!!!


I instantaneously start screaming, stomping, and jumping up and down like crazy.  ….AND continually swiping at my back in case millions have found a way to hide from me back there!!!  Millions of roaches on my back! I KNOW they’re there! I KNOW IT! I CAN FEEEEEL THEMMMM!!!! GET THEM OOOFFFFFFF! AAAAAAAAAAHHH!




I reserve the right to forever stay out of the unfinished part of that damn basement!


Fast forward…I don’t know how long…maybe a month or two.


I have a fish-tank next to the front wall of my room, and it puts off enough light that I can make out most objects in my bedroom at night. (Yah; you know what’s coming.)


 As I lie in my bed comfortably, happy..sleepy…nice……JUUUUST drifting off to sleep, I see it—a menacing figure.  It crawls into my vision….A mere six inches from my FACE, it’s a roach crawling in my BED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




 I leap out of bed!!!! (This is NO exaggeration!! I could have touched the ceiling with this jump.)  Immediately having lost sight of the little creepy-crawly slime-ball, I strip all the sheets and blankets off my bed, and toss them to the floor with all of my force!


 Where is it; where is it; WHERE IS IT???????????


I start swiping franticly on my back, shoulders, everywhere!  What if it’s ON me!!! EWW!!!  I’m doing that same dance I mentioned earlier.  I’m stomping all the sheets and blankets as if they, themselves, are insects in NEED of DEATH! 


Then I stand back from my bed, dumbfounded…looking around my entire room, expecting insects to begin pouring from the ceiling in full-on attack mode!  I glance over the floor, back and forth, poring over every nook, every cranny, every misplaced book or toy where a roach can hide, but all the while, I am frozen in place.  Everything is silent. If this were a horror movie, (and it certainly felt like one) this would be the part where the giant ghost cockroach sneaks down from the ceiling to the unassuming victim and SUCKS ALL HER BRAINS OUT before she even knows what HIT her!!!!!


I never found it….NEVER…..FOUND….THE ROACH!!!


For all I know, it’s still living comfortably in my head after crawling into my ear that night, and is using my brain as its snack day by day!!!!!!


I fucking hate roaches……….HATE THEM.


It’s ENERGY! #leahwouldramble

So…CVS was out of my usual Lo-Carb (blue can) Monster, BUT they did have the White Zero Cal Zero Sugar one…which is also good.  It tastes sweeter than the other, BUT  the energy blend is cut in HALF. AND since they were buy 2 for $4….I figured I’d get two.  Bwa ha ha…(I have a problem.) ;) 

One is to substitute for my coffee this morning…and one is for the pre-drinking, hangover preventative at 2:00…..and of course, I grabbed a Redbull  for Heather as well.  (It sits tauntingly in the fridge as we SPEAK …er…READ…wahtever!)

I walk up to the counter…and I stand there for a few minutes, which is fine because there’s a sweet, old lady in front of me buying assorted items from her shopping cart..including Poise.  (I had to include this, because I don’t care who you are…those are funny…to everyone….like a guy buying tampons.) **Snickers**

Of course, bless her heart, she forgot to have the cashier ring up her last bottle of water….so I’m standing behind her even longer, and at this point, my hands are past-the-point-of-freezing numb from holding onto three CHILLED energy drinks.  I walk up to the counter finally, and the girl pointedly looks at me and asks,


I totally don’t understand what she means at first. (Blonde moment.)  Did I look tired?  Is it because I didn’t put makeup on yet?  Am I slouching/yawning? What did I do to elicit that question???? Why has NOBODY told me that I have bags under my eyes and I look like some horribly disfigured-from-lack-of-sleep vagrant!!?? (Wait…I dont!)

  And then I remembered what I was purchasing.  THREE energy drinks!! OH!! Great….

Apparently, I looked like an energy-drink-abusive teenager.  I quickly tell her that they are not all mine (As if she believes me at this point…isn’t that wht they always say?), and she smiles…and then the guy who had been waiting behind me pipes up,

“I was wondering that, too! Ha ha ha!”

 Gee. Thanks, Guy.

The thought that I might look like some psychotic person due to my purchase never even occurred to me.  I wonder how many times this has happened before…

Upside: I got to use my coupon for $1.50 CVSExtraBucks before they expired.