A Dream

I had a dream this morning.  Here is what I remember:

I was in my hometown.  I had made arrangements to rent a house out in the fields of wheat north of town.  The owner of the house had been murdered.  After committing myself to the rental I learned some more details.  I discovered that the owner of the house was a woman who was violently murdered by three men inside her house.  I had the general vibe that the house had an evil presence or that trouble would come if I went ahead with the rental.  So I did everything I could to get out of it.  But I couldn't.

Then I found myself in a strip mall on one of the main streets in town.  It was at night and there were only a few lights.  There was only me, a friend from high school, and an evil guy who was pale and glowing just a little bit and had pale glowing clothes and could fly around.  We fought and fought and my friend from high school sat on the sidelines but shouted helpful advice and occasionally tossed me a weapon.

Then my alarm went off.

K-Fed Syndrome

I read an article about K-Fed.  It said that he had gained a lot of weight and that he hadn't realized it.  He saw some pictures of himself and thought they were photoshoped.  Then when he found out they weren't he was blown away.

Lately, I worry that I'm like K-Fed--not with respect to being married to Britney Spears but with respect to gaining weight and not realizing it.  Now that I'm 29 I find that, if I contort my body in various ways, there are rolls of fat that I didn't used to have. Its so weird.  If I bend forward, this single 'plop' (I don't know what other word to use) of fat/skin shoots out from between my belly and my man boobs.  And it only happens on one side of my body.

I think that some time this summer I'm going to step on a scale and see what my weight is.  Then I'll try to remember my pre-plop weight.  Then I will contrast the two numbers.  If the second number is a lot bigger than the first number, I will conclude that I have K-Fed syndrome.  If not, then I won't worry about it.

The Valley is Strange

There are some trails by my house.  One night I was walking through them.  I came to a bridge with water running underneath it.  There was a woman on the bridge.  She said to me "Do you want to see my beaver?"  I said "OK."  Then she pulled out a digital camera and scrolled through various pictures of wildlife.  She finally got to a picture of a beaver and showed it to me and said "That's my beaver."  Then she hopped on her bicycle and road away.

The Valley is strange.

Panera

Today I went to Panera and ordered some food.  The guy who took my order smiled and said "You remind me of my friend.  Except he has even more ridiculous hair."

I was surprised because I had just gotten a haircut two weeks earlier.

New Name

Welcome to a new decade.  In honor of this new decade, I have changed my online name from Denzel Jonez to Nancy Behar.

Stealing Pots From a Church (Building) on Accident

Many years ago I borrowed two large (really large) pots from a church that I used to go to for a group that I used to belong to.  Its been so long that I don't even remember the exact event.  These pots have been in the trunk of my car for at least a year or two.  I don't know what to do.  I feel a little bit like I'm stealing if I don't return those giant pots.  But, since I haven't been to that particular church in a long time, and since all my friends who used to go there are gone, I can't think of some non-weird/awkward way to get those pots back into the church.

Sometimes (not often) I smoke cigarettes.  I go though, maybe, two packs a year.  Awhile back I started storing the butts from those cigarettes in the forbidden pots in my trunk.  The pots are so massive that the butts haven't even covered the bottom.  But if I keep this car and those pots and if I keep smoking two packs a year, maybe one day those pots will be full of cigarette butts.

Bad Experiences With Famous Members of My Profession: Part I

Anyone reading this blog knows about my spitting and coughing habits.  If I'm outside, then I'm spiting and coughing.  Thats all there is to it.  I can't do anthing about it.

The scene:  It was two days before a conference in the happy valley (let the reader understand).  I was walking across a major intersection in the center of town.  On my side was a big corporate bank.  On the other side, the side I was walking towards, was a small local bar/restaurant.  As I was walking, I did my usual coughing and spitting.  Then someone just ahead of me turned around and said "How uncouth."  When I got to the bar I asked my friend what "uncouth" meant.  The next day I went to a pre-conference party.  Mr "How uncouth!" was the most famous person there.  He had a fancy speaking spot at the next day's conference.  We exchanged a couple of awkward glances.