don't drink the raging bitch

Last night I went to the rack house with some friends and decided to have the raging bitch belgian IPA. It gave me nightmares last night, the worst of which was:

In my dream I was staying at a ski resort with my brother Bob and my sister Cat. But it wasn't an ordinary ski resort. I realized after I got there that they kept arranging the hotel around so it was hard to find my room (it was always in a different place). They were doing this because they were slowly killing all the hotel guests and were hoping no one would notice because they were so busy trying to find their rooms. The guests that were to be killed were put on these cartoon painted buses. I knew which buses were the kill buses because they stopped at the edge of a boat dock that was off by itself, unconnected to the hotel, in the middle of a field of snow. The bus would show up empty and people would get on it and then look out the windows as the bus drove off pleading for me to help them. I was mad at the people for getting on the bus because it was obvious they were going to die.

The hotel had a 4 lane highway that was the main hotel corridor. We would drive over the highway and then suddenly it would end and we would be in free fall. When we landed (the car would vanish) we would then have to take a series of elevators, escalators, and stairs trying to find our rooms.

I finally decided we should leave, but Bob and Cat wanted to find the famous hotel deli and have lunch there. Somehow I got separated from them and ended up in a bookstore that was five stories high and all glass. I found two rare math books that I had always wanted and they were only $5 each so I decided to buy them. But when I went to the counter to pay for them the guy couldn't scan the bar codes and he said, even though there was a price tag on the books clearly showing their price, that since he couldn't scan the books he couldn't charge me for them.

So he gave the books back to me and told me to go up to the next floor and check out a travel book he had written about the area. I found the book and went back downstairs to pay for all my books but the checkout counters were all gone. So I cautiously walked out of the store and no alarm went off so I assumed the guy meant for me to take the books.

Then I was walking down a long corridor and the ceiling was 80 feet high. Bodies kept falling off the roof and landing behind me. I got scared and wondered where Bob and Cat were. I started running and found myself suddenly at the end of the wooden dock.

I was like "fuck! I need to get off this dock before the bus comes!" but the bus suddenly materialized in front of me. Weirdly, it was full of people. Then I noticed the guy from the book store was on the bus staring at me in an accusatory fashion. I didn't want him to think I stole books from the store so I started putting on chap stick and avoided looking at him. Suddenly my chap stick started melting and I realized the guy was melting it by using a laser beam in his eyes and that he was going to kill me next. I looked around and there was a little boy standing next to me eating a pistachio ice cream cone.

I thought "who the fuck eats an ice cream cone at a ski resort in the middle of winter?"

Then I woke up.

don't try to buy a hammer if you have a facial injury

On Saturday night I returned home around 9 pm after a 6 hour cleaning session at a friend's house (yes, my friends invite me over to clean their houses - your point is?). I was going to brush my teeth so I opened my medicine cabinet, which has a metal mirror door. I should also mention that it opens lefty side (much to the chagrin of my contractor who thinks I should have my new medicine cabinet open right side - maybe he has a point about that).

Anyway, my toothbrush, which flashes a smiley face at me when I've brushed for 2 minutes, needed a recharge, so I reached into my vanity cabinet to get the charger out.

That's when I discovered I had a leak in the pipe under the sink. I tightened the plastic, what ever it's called, thing that holds the pipe to the sink, and then pulled out a basket of lotions and soap I have that were mired in water.

As I stood up with the basket my forehead made contact with the edge of the mirror. I wasn't sure what happened at first because I felt no pain. There was, however, horror movie style blood gushing everywhere.

I hit the mirror hard enough that pieces of the mirror, which broke at the edge, are still coming out of the wound.

Sunday I had to go to home depot to buy a sledge hammer because I'm going to fix my fence, which was broken when my neighbor's tree fell on it, with this product called fence mender. Installation requires a sledge hammer.

There was a this hammer, that hammer, all kinds of hammers, but nothing that said "sledge hammer". A sales guy who must have noticed my bewildered expression inquired if I needed help. I was like "yeah, I'm looking for a sledge hammer".

He pulled something called an engineer's hammer (engineers are so awesome) and said "this would probably work for you". Then he must have interpreted the confused look on my face (I was thinking "but why wouldn't they say in the directions I needed an engineer's hammer instead of a sledge hammer?????") as doubt because he said "Well, we have bigger sledge hammers in gardening."

Then, looking at the still bleeding cut on my forehead:

"But, probably you should buy something smaller."

Fucking what ever.

My friend whose house I cleaned, who on Sunday found my wound amusing, suggested I use my "special jew healing powers" to heal the huge bloody knot on my forehead.

Worked. It's getting better.

Now I just look like a half ass Manson follower rather than someone with a huge bloody lump on the forehead.

In conclusion, I need my fucking bathroom redone like yesterday.