Octopus Nightmare

I’ve been having some weird dreams lately. Maybe it’s because I’ve actually been getting some good sleep, you know the deep sleep.

Real life blending with…well, not real life. Anyways, it’s been reminding me of this one nightmare I had back when I was maybe eleven or twelve. I think it was the first real nightmare that terrified me while I was experiencing it. I’ve had nightmares before and since that’ve given me the cold sweat wake ups, but this one is still as clear as the night I had it.

I was on a tour bus, like the one at Universal Studios, except instead of touring a studio it was touring our neighborhood. Only it wasn’t really our neighborhood, there were no trees or hills and the houses were spaced out more like the neighborhood from Edward Scissorhands.

The bus driver stopped and pointed behind us like in an old B-movie horror kind of way. You know, the point with open mouth and scream instead of running or saying anything useful.

Everyone on the bus turns and a tidal wave is rushing towards the bus, but then a giant octopus exploded from the water. A giant purply-brown octopus (yes, I remember the color…it had silver eyes).

I feel I need to explain something before continuing. When I was in elementary and middle school I had an irrational fear of octopi. I choose to believe this was due to how the Indianapolis Zoo chose to present an octopus. In the darkest room ever. The tank was so dark you could barely see anything. It reminded my young, innocent child self of that seen in Jaws 3D (yes, that Jaws 3D) where the girl is looking out the window and the half eaten diver appears sending everyone into a panic (needless to say that scene scared the piss out of me as a child…the only thing in that movie really). So I expected the hiding octopus to slam into the glass if I stood too close.

Follow-up: the octopus never did, it barely ever moved from under a very comfortable looking rock…if you ever saw it at all.


So I’m already suffering from said irrational fear of octopi when a gigantic, enormous octopus explodes from the tidal wave rushing at the tour bus I’m on. I, being an intelligent human, run off the bus and into my house which the bus conveniently parked in front of before the tentacled attack.

I lock the doors, but I can see the octopus outside the windows, its creepy eye peering in at me. The front door is knockedf off its hinges and a large tentacle chases me up the stairs.

I run into my parents bedroom because as in typical horror movie fashion I think the bathroom will be safe and my parents had a very nice bathroom in Indiana. A tentacle wraps around my ankle and starts pulling me back. I grab the bed posts of my parents’ bed and hang on for dear life.

And here is where the nightmare entered into the forever remembered halls of my brain. I did the trick. You know, the trick you’re supposed to do to prove your in a dream.

I pinched myself. I DID! I hung onto the bed post as a tentacle pulled my leg nearly out of socket and pinched my arm. To be fair, it didn’t hurt so I knew I was dreaming. But it didn’t really make me feel better because I was still terrified.

Then I woke up. Cold sweat, breathing quickly, heart pounding a mile a minute…but not being attacked by an octopus.

Fun fact: I’m no longer afraid of octopi. I think they’re fascinating and probably could take over the world if they chose. I AM deeply terrified of sting/manta rays though…but that’s a story for another day.

6-Foot Bullshit

BEFORE I EVEN START: I know not all people over 6 ft do this. This rant is about those who do. If you don’t, congratulations this ISN’T about YOU!

This is a rant about 6-foot Bullshit. What is 6-foot Bullshit? It’s those select few who tower above the rest of us and try to intimidate shorter folk with their sheer size.

I’m here to tell you…IT DON’T WORK ON ME!

Now I’m not short short (I’m a nice average 5’5”) so I can only speak from my perspective. BUT it happens often enough I need to say something about it.

I’ve had multiple occasions where people have tried to shove their way past me (whether in a line or not) and when I don’t allow it, they physically lean over me and try to intimidate me into allowing them to do whatever they want. Sorry, buddy, that doesn’t scare me. I’m the runt in my family so I’ve had my whole life to learn how to handle you tall people.

And what I’ve learned…it works. Standing up to them or showing you aren’t one to be steamrolled…they tend to back off. It’s simple, people get away with things because others let them. But most times (there are ALWAYS exceptions) once someone pushes back, they stop.

For those few cases who continue even when faced with someone who won’t take the 6-foot Bullshit…you are a 6-foot Asshole.

Don’t be a 6-foot Asshole.

Fart Knuckle

Do you ever censor yourself? There’s no real need to, but for some reason you catch yourself and choose not to say one of the many words society shudders?

The “clutch-your-pearls” words, if you will?

I think one of my favorites that I use is “fart knuckle”. I mean, what the hell is a fart knuckle? Is it someone punching a fart? Is it farting on your knuckle before punching someone? I DON’T KNOW!

But I love saying it instead of the dreaded F-word.

The other thing I love about my own censorship is I can’t really tell you some of the other ones. They happen naturally. Though I do remember tending to say son of a >insert random noun<. For example son of a Rasputin. Why Rasputin? WHO KNOWS!

Of course, I’m not saying I don’t partake in the good ol’ swear off now and then, but sometimes my brain decides we’re going to be family friendly and the strangest thing pops out of my mouth.

Like fart knuckle.