Posts Tagged ‘Visit New Hampshire!’

#602

September 12 2011

A. I can’t fall asleep
B.
A. I can’t fall asleep
B. unngh. Ghwuh, I. What?
A. I can’t fall asleep
B. Yes you can.
A. No, I can’t.
B. Prove it.
A. I am.
B. Sure, you’re awake now. But in six hours…
A. Six? That’s not fair.
B. You said you can’t fall asleep
A. I mean, can’t right now. Not can’t ever.
B. So what’s the problem then.
A. I can’t fall asleep.
B. … so, half hour? An hour?
A. I don’t know. There’s no way to tell.
B. Except you definitely know that it’s not six hours.
A. I’m not going to just lie here sleepless for six hours. If it gets to that point I’ll just give up.
B. Also in six hours you’ll have to have been at work for… 40 minutes or so.
A. Shit. Really?
B. Yeah.
A. Ugh.
B. So why not try and see if you can squeeze 4 hours out of it.
A. … I have been trying.
B. Well, try…
A. Are you going to finish that sentence or did you think better of it.
B. Thought better. But, seriously though.
A. What then. What is it that I should do.
B. Huh.
A. What are your best secret sleep strategies to help me conk right out
B. Hm. I always just fall asleep on my own. It’s really easy for me.
A. That’s not helping.
B. I know. It’s just. I don’t really have anything helpful to offer here.
A.
B. Maybe, count sheep?
A. That doesn’t work.
B. Did you try it?
A. No. B-
B. Well, you can’t know unti
A. But I’ve tried in the past. On Christmas Eves. Or on the nights before we’d go to Water Country or Disney World. I’d get to the forties or fifties before the mental image would break down, become meaningless.
B. You were as excited for Water Country as Disney World?
A. Probably moreso.
B. You’re a weird kid you know that?
A. We didn’t have a pool!
B. Yeah. Well you also didn’t have a Teacups. Or a Thunder Mountain. Or a entire canon of costumed Disney characters.
A. …I like waterslides.
B. Aw.
A. What.
B. Weird kid.
A. If liking waterslides is weird then you are sleeping with but not asleep with the Crispin Glover of kids.
B. Weird. kid.
A. Don’t drift off on me!
B. Can’t. help it.
A. I’ve got ways.
B. No. I’m all. wore. out.
A. Not sex ways, sicko. I just mean I can keep waking you up each time you fall asleep.
B.
A. Like with pinches. Or shaking. Or frenching.
B.
A. Hey. HEY.
B. No.o.o.
A. You can’t sleep until I can sleep.
B. That’s not. acceptable.
A. You don’t have a choice. I’m your own private Guantanamo.
B. Bo.o. Atti. ca.
A. Count yourself lucky that it’s just deprivation and not angry dogs and hot fuck stacks.
B. Hot. fuck stacks?
A. Those nude pyramids
B. Ugh. Not cool.
A. I’m not the one who did them.  Take it up with Lynnie England, and just Lynnie England, and maybe a couple other bad apples, but nobody else.
B. No.o.o. Too late. for. politics.
A. And even if you definitely could take it up with a bunch of otherbody elses, we have to look forward, not backwards. Past is done. Punishing people isn’t going to change what’s already happened. Why bother? Except terrorists. And protestors.
B. I’m not a terrorist. Can I go to sleep please?
A. Don’t care. No.
B. Ugh.
A. Hug.
B. Is … this a stress position?
A. Just hugging on you. To keep you awake
B. I don’t think. It’s.
A. I just have to squeeze a little.
B. Wrrrk.
A. Aw. I squeezed a li’l ‘wrrk’ outta you.
B. Wark.
A. Hm. It’s not as good when it’s from concentration.
B. Wrrrrrk
A. Mm. Fresh squoze.
B. Stop. You’re making me hungry.
A. Maybe we should go to Denny’s.
B. No-o. To sleep. We should go to. sleep.
A. I can’t fall asleep.
B. Go to sleep.
A. I can’t.
B. If. you can’t. fall asleep. maybe you can. maybe I. I.
A. Hey
B. Mm?
A. HEY
B. nn.
A. Don’t make me pack you in an ice casket.
B. z.
A. Ugh. *shake*
B. Nnn.
A. ever forget my inability to sleep.
B. Serious. stop.
A. Just. I think I can get there. I , need your help though.
B. No you don’t. Just. do for yourself. what you.
A. Hey.
B. Yeah?
A. Please?
B.
A.
B. ok.
A. Finally.
B.
A. I mean, thank you.
B. Yeah. well.
A. I just need you to talk me through it. I know it will work if you just, talk me throughit.
B. Ok. Well. You’re getting sleepy.
A. Not like a hypnotist.
B. Like what then?
A. I don’t know. Just , normal.
B. I don’t think. I’m capable of. of that. now.
A. But with a story. With a drift to it , that I can follow to sleep.
B. Like a lazy. river.
A. Yeah! Exactly like a stupid lazy river.
B. And this bed. is your. water. country.
A. I actually did fall asleep on one of those once.
B. You’ve excaped Guantanamo. You’ve.
A. At Water Country, even.
B. You’ve made it. to the , past Cuba. To , some own. private. spot.
A. It was towards the end of the day and I was young-ish, like 8 or 10,
B. all the sand is white. there.
A. and I must have been tired out
B. No. Black.
A. so about a quarter mile in the tube left the shade for the sun
B. It’s a lake now. In , New Hampshire.
A. and I had to close my eyes just to , block it.
B. Or, I guess. A river.
A. and I could still see the sun behind my eyelids, though
B. And you get in. your tube. and you start to. just. drift. out
A. it was just the color red , and sometimes pulses of neon green or red
B. The lake. or the river. takes your tube like a ride but there. isn’t one.
A. So I close them tighter, and tighter until , it doesn’t help. So I turn over
B. You’re just , at the , mercy. Of it. Of the river.
A. Not flip. Just. A sleeping position.
B. Or the lake.
A. And I fall asleep.
B. Time is also not certain.
A. It’s not deep , but it’s not shallow.
B. Later. you’re so much further down the river.
A. A sleep I can remember sleeping.
B. But other laters. not so. much.
A. Maybe I wasn’t even asleep.
B. At some point. there aren’t banks anymore.
A. Just tired. relaxing. content.
B. The river. the lake. opens up.
A. Not either. all of them.
B. The sun. it’s not in the sky anymore. but. it’s not dark.
A. The lazy river winds me around itself. I must do six laps.
B. the light doesn’t come from anywhere. but.
A. My parents , so scared. When I wake up
B. you can still. see . all of it.
A. I wake up to my name repeated. over and over.
B. You’re somewhere you’ve not ever been. Not on , the lake.
A. Over the loudspeaker. I recognize it.
B. Somewhere else. somewhere.
A. but by now. they’ve found me.
B.
A. More angry than afraid.
B.
A.
B.
A. Almost had it.
B.

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#517

August 24 2011

A. I want a vacation.
B. Like, a divorce?
A. No. I want to take a trip.
B. Oh. Thank god.
A. Wait– did you want to break-up?
B. No. That’s why I’m thanking god.
A. But you don’t even believe in God.
B. I know! It’s a double miracle!
A. Mm. So where do you want to go?
B. On this vacation?
A. Yes.
B. Huh. I don’t know
A. I was thinking somewhere warm.
B. But it already is warm.
A. Not warm enough, though. Not in a real meaningful way.
B. Ah. So you’re thinking: the desert.
A. No.
B. Qatar, maybe?
A. Not Qatar.
B. Are we even on vacationing terms with them?
A. I don’t actually know where Qatar is.
B. But you don’t want to go there
A. I assumed ‘Middle East’ and no thanks.
B. Yeah. I want to say Saudi Arabian peninsula.
A. Ok.
B. …if that’s a place.
A. I was thinking something like Hawaii, but not Hawaii.
B. Why not Ha’wa’i’i?
A. Meh.
B. But you want to go somewhere like Ha’wa’i’i?
A. Yeh.
B. Hm. Guam?
A. That’s, part of the United States right?
B. Yeah…  I think it’s a territory.
A. Is it like Hawaii?
B. It’s in the Pacific Ocean. I think.
A. Yeah, that sounds’ right. Let’s not.
B. Yeaah.
A. I mean, I don’t know anything about there but , I feel like we would have heard more about it if it was worth a damn.
B. Harsh, but agreed.
A. Where else though?
B. New Hampshire?
A. New, no. What?
B. It’s very nice there in the summer.
A. Not nice enough.
B. You haven’t swam until you’ve swimmed in a lake.
A. I’ve swum in a lake. I’ve swem in so meny leks. It was gross.
B. Not a New Hampshire lake. That’s a lake so nice you can drink out of it. And people do!
A. You’re not selling me on this…
B. Well, it’s cheap, and we’re poor.
A. True.
B. Also, do you even have any vacation left?
A. I think I have 6 hours.
B. So anywhere we go you’d be taking a double hit.
A. Yeah.
B. New Hampshire is relatively close and they’ve got ice cream…
A. Guhh
B. Plus I played Capture the Flag there once
A. Do you think they’re still playing?
B. We did say first to 10,000 captures…
A. Maybe we could just stay here and set up a 3-4 day capture the flag game
B. With, like, tents & stuff?
A. Yeah! We can get people to live in the woods with us for a long weekend.
B. Eh… it’s gonna be hard enough to convince them to take off a Friday let alone
A. Shirts vs Skins. All weekend.
B. And we only know like, eight people
A. Bandanas. Drinking out of jugs, hidden rations
B. I mean, 5v5 would be ok, but
A. Crush berry facepaint
B. I don’t see us getting 8 yeses
A. What about Tahiti?
B. Honey.
A. Compromise!
B. We– how exactly is that a compromise?
A. Hm. Good point. Fine, I will go as low as Old Hampshire– the English countryside– but that is it.
B. How about next year?
A. Final offer, going once…
B.
A. twice…
B.
A. …Well, my vacation re-ups in November.
B. Ok. Maybe we could take a long out-of-country, unAmerican Thanksgiving.
A. We already told my parents we’d go to Ann Arbor.
B. Well that’s near Toronto. I think.
A. We’re not vacationing in Toronto.
B. You know, I’ve never been to Canada.
A. Yes you have.
B. No. When?
A. We went to the casino in Windsor two Christmasses ago.
B. That was in Detroit. Detroit, America.
A. It’s near Detroit, but no, that was Canada.
B. I object: all casinos are de facto American territory. Those classy Monte Carlo baccarateries excepted, of course.
A. Of course. But still, you’ve been to Canada.
B. That hardly counts…
A. It’s Canada! Nothing about it counts!
B. That’s not fair. Don’t take it out on Canada just because you wanted to go to Tahiti. It’s not Canada’s fault that it doesn’t have luscious naturally exploitable colorful titty lady shapes
A. You’re right. I’m sorry Canada. I apologize for your lack of noble bigtitty savagesses.
B. “All is forgiven, my child”
A. Eugh. What happened to Canada?
B. The decency gap between it and the U.S. has finally gone to its head and they’ve gone a tad beatific.
A. White shirt, white pants,
B. no shoes, white belt
A. Shirt unbuttoned, almost halfway
B. chest hair distributed such as to create a perfect self-portrait
A. Would you like me better if my name was Tad Beatific?
B. Oh, most definitely.
A. Yeah. Me too.
B. *slow nod*
A. I bet everywhere is a vacation when you’re Tad Beatific.
B. Or with!
A. Yeah.
B.
A.
B. Maybe we should break up
A. What?? You thanked God! Tad’s #1 pal!
B. But think about it, we can’t afford a vacation to somewhere else
A. No.
B. but we can afford a vacation to someone else!
A. Yeah, I saw where that was going. No.
B. I don’t even mean being romanceful with another person.
A. Just fucking.
B. No, I mean being a different person ourselves. Or… theirselves.
A. Ehh. That sounds like a pretty dumb idea.
B. What? You’re completely fine always being A****** A*****? You just said you weren’t.
A. Tad Beatific is an idea not a reality. An ideal, not real. Don’t besmirch.
B. I’m not besmirching. But why can’t you be Tad Beatific?
A. Lack of white belt and insufficiently mimetic chest hairs?
B. Sure, but you could still for a week be the most placid and accepting and condescendingly transcendent judgmentally non-judgmental piece of shit!
A. That doesn’t sound fun though. Not for more than a day.
B. We could just do a day. Even cheaper, time-wise.
A. Well who would you be?
B. A Private Detective.
A. Wow. You had that ready to go.
B. I always wanted to be a PI but was too… an actual human person.
A. Yeah, I don’t think that’s a real thing.
B. No, it is. But they mostly just take pictures of cheating spouses and hack voicemails. Gross.
A. So what would your vacation even entail? You don’t have a ‘case’, you can’t just get cases. And apparently they aren’t even real cases just weirdo snooping.
B. Actually, I’ve sort of had my eye on our upstairs neighbor for a while.
A. Mr. Galley?
B. Yeah. Mr. Galley…
A. Why him? I mean, whadja like him for, Skip?
B. Skip?
A. Dickles?
B. Mick. Mick Fleetfoot.
A. The Fleetwood Mac guy?
B. No. That’s Mick Fleetwood.
A. That’s awful similar don’t you think.
B. Everyone just calls me Mick anyways.
A. Of course. So, Mr. Galley?
B. I’m pretty sure he’s cheating on his wife…
A. But that’s exactly what you said you don’t want to do!
B. Well not if someone tells me that he’s cheating and then I catch him cheating. That’s not a real investigation, that’s…
A. A private investigation?
B. Homework. No, I’m going to figure the whole thing out all on my own. If he is, who with, when, where, how
A. How? Like, in the mouth or in the butt?
B. No. How he’s getting away with it. Why she hasn’t found out.
A. What if she does know. Maybe they have an open marriage.
B. Huh. I didn’t think of that.
A. In fact, I have seen her at the bar we do trivia at, usually with men who aren’t Mr. Galley…
B. Really? Oh man, I gotta writ
A. No.
B. this, down. How come?
A. You bit so easy on such nothing. I don’t think this vacation idea is going to work. We should just go to the Seychelles instead.
B. You’re the worst.
A. You run into a lot of creeps and slimeballs when you’re Skip Dickle.
B. Ugh. Fine. We don’t have to do an out-of-self vacation.
A. And I guess we can put off doing an out-of-state vacation for now
B. But who would you have gone to?
A. Er, pardon?
B. Who would you have been? Instead.
A. Huh. A billionaire who could go to Tahiti, or their own private Tahiti equivalent.
B. No, you have to choose something real, something possible.
A. Actually, the idea of a private Tahiti equivalent sounds pretty miserable. Unless you could also pay other people to also be touristing there at the same time
B. Chooose
A. Hold on, I’m thinking this through– because even though you sort of hate other tourists, for being obnoxious, and for reflecting your own stupid touristness back at your,  you still need other people. Especially other people as desperate for other people to validate their vacationness back at them. Reflect the good stuff too
B. And the f
A. Please don’t interrupt me
B. O, kay
A. No, jk jk. What were you going to say?
B. Well, that it besides them also having the same tourist expectations you also, both, have nothing but free time and can act accordingly.
A. Yeah. Great. Right.
B. Ok. So you would probably want to go as an asshole?
A. I think that actually implies that I’m not being an asshole right now, but I feel you. I feel you.
B. Feel away.
A. Hm. *feel*
B. Mmm. Seriously though
A. Srsly *feel feel*
B. If you could vacation away from your own,  dumb self for a week or so
A. Hmm *feel (cont.)* Maybe an old movie star.
B. Noo. It has to be somethin-uhh. Somethinnnn. Uh-tttainable.
A. No, you miss my meaning. *f-e-e-l* I don’t want to be an actual movie star, I just want to be an oblivious, high-class, fashionable anachronism.
B. Oh. Like, ahhh ah.
A . Like all dress-up and affectational *keeps feeling* and out-of-touch and a hard to discern mix of senility and entitlement. Walk out on checks. Convince a grocery person to push the cart for me and put stuff in it *feels feels feels feels feels*.
B. Guhuhhhhh uh, uh, uh, recreational wheelchair an, and full-face sunnnnnglasss-eh-eh-ehs
A. Exactly!
B. I’m. I’m all felt. I’m your ‘on the town’ matching pants/vest/hat combo.
A. Ha.
B. Uhhh. Phew.
A. Make-believe aside, I think you’re actually on to something vacation-wise.
B. Huh? New Hampshire?
A. Mutual sick day into long naked weekend.
B. Sold!
A. Now let’s go grab a fedora so you can Mick the shit out of me.
B. Already have one.
A. Bahhh. Creep.
B. A soon to be multi-day nude creep.
A. Aren’t they all?
B. Fair point.
A. Vaacaatioon.