I Fall Down Stairs
HAH!

I’ve got the tv running in the background while I get some need to do’s done, and have settled on the Original The Omen as my mouthy companion.

The scene where Baby Satan has been taken to the drive-thru safari park comes on, and I was paying attention because I was suddenly curious about the formulas for filming this particular scene*.

It cuts to commercial as the primates screech at the retreating car.

And then Expedia’s commercial about a man taking his kiddo on a safari comes on.

HAH!

these are the kinds of pairings that I’m sure technology will eventually eliminate, if only to create other, unforeseen funny not funny coincidences in the wake, but I hope not too soon.

The more preventative and convenient the world gets, the less interesting it gets. Wait, maybe I mean that the less interesting it gets for those of me who sometimes find great joy in something like this falling into my lap.

* When I see a film I saw as a kid or less informed person, I begin to wonder about the mechanics of filming certain scenes, especially those involving children or animals. Because these days with better informed eyes and HD apparatuses, as well as the industry’s need back then to use things like, actual flames in scenes, I can see now where fake animals, or controlled circumstances with animals and children were likely used, with the cuts and subtle changes in certain cuts - and this both amuses and comforts me. I could likely read the internet for these nuggets, but I prefer to think about it for 5 minutes, make up my own probably, and then wander off.

I keep tuck and rolling into these weird 3 and 4 hour sleeps, but then it’s all fun and insomnia - for just long enough - for me to get sick of wandering around with that heavy gritty eyelid feeling. Tuck and roll.

My body even had the nerve to sleep through only half of a movie off of Netflix. HALF. A documentary, even. And I wanted to see it which generally guarantees a drool snooze up through the credits and screen reversion to the main menu.

Xanax, you’re at bat.
No helmet. Just get in there.

Like frost on a puddle, it never is. It just becomes.

Safety pins are carriers of the metal rabies.

Yes, this is me bullying. I’ve tried to be understanding, but these things keep biting me. And if I do get the metal rabies, there’s going to be a Facebook page.

Dreamt that I got up and went to work before actually waking to my alarm, getting up and going to work.

Monday just dropped the mic on my head.