No garage sale today. Tandra was sick, like throwing up all day yesterday. Plus we're just not ready. I guess we're just going to do it on Friday and Saturday, which sucks ass because Thursday is the day you make your money. I'm not sure we shouldn't just put it off until next weekend.
I had the craziest dream last night. I dreamt that it was back when I drove my Cutlass. I pulled into some parking lot somewhere and got really pissed off because something in the parking lot flattened all four of my tires. I only had one spare, and I couldn't afford a tow, so I had to drive the car to the tire store on flats. So I tried to do this, and I was going all slow and getting sideways and stuff, and some jackass redneck in a truck had a problem with it and was honking and shit at me and finally went around me. Well, in my weird dream logic I said "My car's already screwed up anyway, what the hell," so I rammed him. (It was really satisfying.) Of course, because he's a redneck, he tries to chase me down, and I can't get away from him in my crippled car. Then I realize this guy must be part of some biker gang or something because here come like fifty big scary dudes on choppers, also chasing me down. Now ordinarily big scary dudes on choppers don't scare me, but these guys were specifically after me, in which case I feel a healthy amount of fear is normal. I figure out there's no way I can get away from these guys in my car and that I'm going to have to ditch the car and run somewhere on foot where I can hide. I notice that I'm not too far from home, so I get close and ditch the car. I run my ass off through backyards and shit until I get to the house. I get my house key out and unlock it and go inside and slam the door. I look up and all these strangers have stopped what they're doing and they're just looking at me. I said "Oh, shit, I don't live here any more, do I?" I had gone to my old house on Clark street, the one I haven't lived in since 1995. (No word on why my house key worked.) I explained to everyone that there was no way I could go back outside and why, and that they had to hide me. They were all very cool and agreed to do this. So I went downstairs to my old room and hid way back in the old part of the closet.
Apparently these biker dudes either were the police, or had the power of the police, or something, because they launched a full-on door-to-door search in the neighborhood. They knew I couldn't have gotten far. To satisfy them, the owners of the house agreed to let them look around. This was ok because my hiding place was so good. And indeed, they came in, looked around, didn't find me, and left.
So I hung out there for what seems like a couple days, never leaving that basement room but hanging out with the family who lived there and stuff. After a few days, I guess the bikers/cops figured out which house I was at and put enough legal pressure on the owners that they had to surrender me. They didn't want to, but they had to, so it was cool, I wasn't mad at them. So the detective type cops came downstairs to the room and found me and everything was all calm and orderly and stuff. They handcuffed me and everyone was standing around taking care of business. I was in DEEP DEEP shit, like worse than you ordinarily would be for ramming a dude's truck and running away. I'm not sure why. So I was scared as hell. Then some bad-ass well-known hotshot lawyer dude comes striding in talking about how he's going to take my case and defend me. I said "I can't afford you, man," and he told me not to worry about it, told me it had been taken care of. I didn't get it, but I said "ok" and didn't ask any more questions. Shortly thereafter I discovered that Tandra's sister-in-law, Deanna, had set me up to be on some stupid-ass dramatic daytime talk show hosted by some no-name b-level actress who jumped at the chance for a talk show as soon as she had some notoriety because that's what she truly always wanted to do, and in return the show would pay the lawyer bills.
I haven't talked much about Deanna, but she should be pretty easy to explain because she is a WALKING STEREOTYPE. Overweight and unattractive; stays with her abusive husband because they both have poor self-esteem; goes to the emergency room more than anyone I know; they have a kid when really they probably shouldn't because they're too young and immature and stupid to raise a kid properly; SRS has investigated them because of the fights and shit; had their car reposessed, currently drive some POS that is only still running by some act of God. She's so overly dramatic that none of us can stand to talk to her, AT ALL. We don't take her phone calls. She gets all indignant like someone has violated her rights all the time and does the side-to-side head neck thing that we all know is reserved for the darker-skinned among us. She's just stupid and I can't stand her.
So I was pissed to find she'd done this without my consent, but I needed the lawyer so I went along with it. I started talking to the lawyer (still down in that bedroom, other detectives and guys all around) about how I was going to get on the show and then just completely clown this host. Now please forgive me, for some reason I turned into Chris Tucker for this part. I said, "Man, Ima get on there and be like 'Fuck am I doin' on this damn show? What is this show anyway? Who is this lady? Bitch, what the fuck you doin with a talk show? Ain't nobody know you, ain't nobody wanna watch this shit. Why the fuck you on TV anyway? Competin' with Oprah an shit!'" Now, that's kinda funny, but in my dream this was like the FUNNIEST SHIT ANYONE EVER SAID. The lawyer was doubled over cracking up laughing, the cops were laughing, I was laughing so hard I couldn't catch my breath...
Ok, then the dream ended because I woke up. I was amused.