Possibly the Longest Single Post in GUAGL History

Holy crap, I am bored. The program my job pretty much revolves around doesn’t work so I have NOTHING to do. I checked my blog and noticed that I only have six posts about roommates, and that those six posts are part of one story, then that reminded me of last night (Thursday) and since I have nothing to do you get to know about last night too.

Rob and I returned home from Lacey’s at about one in the morning and our house smelled like warm feces. I proceeded to complain about the stench as loud as I could hoping to wake our two roommates downstairs so they knew how much I hated when this happened. You see, our two roommates who live downstairs are both from Enterprise, Utah, and they come from farming families. I could write post after post about the friction this simple difference in culture causes; in this case it is that they cook huge dinners for themselves every night, and sometimes breakfast and most of the time they result in a similar smell we had just encountered. Not only does it smell bad but you feel like you need to take a shower just by being in its midst, scratch that, you do have to take a shower just by being in its midst. Also, while cooking these meals of theirs they use more dishes in one day then Rob and I would use in a normal week.

Right before we left Lacey’s we were talking about how Roommate One has horrible aim in the bathroom and doesn’t like to clean up the mis-fired . . . ammo. And how way too often when I wake up in the morning and head to the bathroom to take care of business, I encounter R1’s business (serious business, if you know what I mean). How do you sit on the toilet, do that, and then stand up and totally forget what you have been doing for the past 5 minutes!!!!???? It is hard to think of a worse way to start my day then lifting up the lid and encountering an hour-long stagnant deuce. I mean bloody hell.

Anyway, since we were just talking about them I sent Lacey a text message.

“Words cannot describe the smell our roommates have filled our house with.”

“Sick! What did they do?”

“It smells like they cooked an old man’s diaper.” I sent it and then thought for a second and sent, “Hey, maybe words can describe it.”

By the way, keep in mind that it is now one in the morning, meaning the smell is at least a few hours old and still crazy potent. My last thought before I went to bed was ‘I bet I have weird dreams because of this odor I have to sleep in.’ I usually have freakin weird and very vivid dreams anyway, so I was scared what was going to happen with adding this extra element to the equation. The sum of that equation goes like this:

I was in a co-ed locker room, and I was way confused because I thought there had to be segregated locker rooms somewhere around there. I hated getting dressed in front of other guys let alone gettin nekked in front of a bunch of girls (in the dream that is, heh heh). So, I was getting pretty stressed over it until I finally found the guy’s locker room. I changed into my swimsuit and headed out to the pool. This pool, by the way, is a re-occurring object in my dreams. I don’t remember any dream where I actually swim in it, so if any psych majors read this maybe you could help me out there. This dream was no different; I just walked around it and then went outside to play football. I was fully dressed and back in high school all of the sudden and with some kid who was my friend, I guess. Anyway, Alta’s football team was having practice and we stopped by to see if they needed help. We sat with the team on the grass and listened as their coach told them how pathetic they were. He then started yelling at me, telling me that I’d better play really well being that I had RoboCop shoes on. I did have RoboCop shoes on. They were black and said RoboCop in silver. Even though he had just humiliated me I was still confident my RoboCop shoes were awesome, and that everyone else still thought so. I think that part of the dream comes from Napolean Dynamite. “You think I got to where I am by dressing like Peter Pan over here? Forget about it.”

At this point I started narrating my own dream like a movie. One of those movies where you find out in the end the narrator is actually the main character years after the story. When practice actually got started they realized they didn’t need our help, so my friend and I walked over to this grassy area and started playing baseball by ourselves. I guess we were both really good at baseball. The area we were playing on used to be a pretty popular field back in like the fifties, but now you could hardly tell there was ever a baseball field there. We played until it started getting dark, then we came up with the idea that we should re-build the field so people could play baseball on it again, so we started taking care of the field. While watering it I realized that I would never ever have enough money to make the field into what we thought it deserved to be and I started crying, but like balling and feeling so horribly sad because our dream would never be realized. Now the narration just took over and I just saw everything that it talked about. My friend and I got the field to where games could actually be played on it. We started a team that was called something Broncos, I can’t remember. We were so good that we got Triple A status and became the Bees, and we got a big budget to make the field better. Eventually major league teams played in the stadium we had built there, and it eventually became the “Wrigley of the West.”

How often is it that your dreams come true in your dreams?

There you have it.