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Written by Northe   
Monday, 16 March 2009 08:48

First time? Start here. Read "The Primer" and follow the link at the end. Chronological order makes more sense for the stories. While you're at it, go ahead and Register, approval grants access to exclusive content.

On my worst days, the days where I am just completely ill with the 105 fever and wishing that taste of last night's dinner wasn't lingering around in my maw, I tend to have the stupidest dreams known to man.  Fever dreams some might call them, I prefer to use a string of profanities used as adjectives and hyperbole to label them what they are.  These ridiculous dreams are usually completely nonsensical, irrelevant to any form of reality as we know it and on top of that are constantly repeated over and over again as I fight for sleep during a high fever.  I hate it.  That is the worst thing about being sick.  It's not the shakes, the misery or the puking.. its those god damn dreams that I can't shake when all I want to do is rest.  When I have dreams like that I yearn for my regular dreams.

On the other hand, we have Female Boss.  This is her first dream.  I have talked about her dreams in the past, as seen here, and her mind works on a totally alien level in comparison to mine.  After I have a retarded dream I just want to forget it, but not Female Boss.. no no.  She wants to tell the world and even explore the possibilities from her dreams.  I will do my best to explain how she goes about this and actually wrote a pretty good detailed summary regarding one of her conversations with a Plastic about her dream.

The whole situation started off as preposterous as any that have ever been born from the demonic vessel that is the rift marking my reality and that of my Boss'.  Female Boss, not in the mood to do any work per every other fuckin day of any given week, gets a phone call on her cell phone.  The phone is ringing.. three, four times now.. does she answer it or pick it up to check it?  No, of course not.  Instead, she picks up the office line and decides to call whomever the fuck she wishes.  The satellite to her planetary sized stupidity answers the phone and Female Boss starts off with this:

"Is that you that just called me?  ..  Oh.  Well I don't mean on my office line, on my cell phone."

So from the jump you have Female Boss taking a random stab in the dark by calling one of any number of morons trapped in the gooey pond between her ears that wishes to seek mental equality in a discussion about topics that stimulate the saliva glands of a lunatic bound in a strait jacket with her.  No logical approach is taken.  Just pick up, think of a person and dial them, maybe they called me!  My blood pressure is already revved up enough waking my inner butcher and forcing my hands to involuntarily clench into meat tenderizing and bone splintering hammerfists.  To top things off, she is making sure that the Plastic is aware that the phone call came on her cell just in case they are too dumb to realize that they still called her, just not on the number they may have thought.  Still her, not the office line, but the cell phone.. but still her!  How can that be a matter of clearing up?  You either did call her or you didn't, which number was used is completely irrelevant!!  What does this say about Female Boss' opinion on the Plastic's intelligence let alone perhaps her own.  We have a double edged sword that is begging to get just a taste of either of these two fools' necks.. and things go on.

Completely shocked that her random choice ended up in complete failure, Female Boss asks more questions, "Well, did you get my messages?  ..  Oh, no?  Oh..  .. I was in a trance and called you like 12 times and left you like 8 messages."

Seems like someone is trying to avoid someone else, wouldn't you say?

"I'm glad I got a hold of you though.  I wanted to tell you about my dream the other night.."

The next sentence Female Boss utters is why I should start a collection for her to go to Storytelling Camp cuz she is completely terrible at it.  She doesn't know how to start a story half the time and next to never puts any perspective or context in to it.  She just goes and ends.

"Amy Winehouse was the co-pilot!"

That was the end of the beginning.  All I know is that there is complete silence at this point from Female Boss.  I don't know if this sparked something in the Plastic or what but it was extremely awkward.  The next thing Female Boss says begins the end and my intellectual demise.

"Don't you think it would be funny if Brittany Spears was the co-pilot instead?  Or wait, what about Johnny Depp?"

While Female Boss is releasing the toxic overflow of stupidity from her mouth I am busy ripping my own fingernails out.

"...yeah, so funny!  ..  I know!"

Now grating my fingertips down to the bone with a dull cheese grater..

"Then, think about Shatner as the captain pilot.  He'd be an icon!" - Captain Pilot!

As I dig my fleshless fingertips into my quadriceps Female Boss is thinking very hard to herself.. audibly.. the hem's, haw's and hmm's are flying out of her mouth like hits from the NOS tank she sucked on as a child.

Once she has finally reached what she was trying to find in her mind she let's it loose, "I think all of them would work very well together."

This is a shining example of not only how her brain works when she is asleep but also how she takes the time to really explore the depths of her fatuity.  It's a fascinating blend of uncensored and magnificent stupidity in its purest form.  This shit is like the most pure, most virgin level of an effortless thought process that barely, just barely, carries enough brain activity to be voiced into a semi-coherent sentence.  It's barely beyond the vernacular of grunts, gestures and groans that pre-date language.  It's truly the alpha.. the genesis of articulation and self-expression.  I am witness.