Make Me Love You:
Public, Part One
Public, Part Two
Private

I just thought I'd share with you a few random and unimportant thoughts that I had this morning. This is to show you how scary my brain is. As Boy George so accurately put it, I'm afraid of me.

And, we're off.

I used to know this guy that had the coolest smell ever. You know when you open a new bottle or can of 7-Up, how you can really smell it? And it's not just the lemony-limeness, you can also smell the bubbly carbonation goodness? He smelled just exactly like that.

And that made me think of a guy I knew that had his belly button removed when he was a baby. He didn't like to show people, and so a lot of people didn't believe him. But I was one of the lucky few (L is in that elite club as well) that actually got to see this no-belly-buttonness. And let me tell you, it was beyond description. I mean it. Weeeeird.

For some reason, then I thought of this sign that's right by the freeway here and this sign says,

SPAS!!!

I used to drive by this sign a least once a week, and it never once failed to startle me. That would be because, no matter how many times I saw it, and realized I was wrong, of course I always thought it said

SPAZ!!!

For some reason, the next thing I thought of was, I like song Don't Eat Stuff Off the Sidewalk, and then, my number one song of all time to dance to is I Walk the Line. By Alien Sex Fiend, not by Johnny Cash. Not the same song. Nope.

That made me think of the time I made Jason promise, right at the beginning of our relationship, which is a few years ago now, that he would never, ever sing that "don't take your guns to town, boy" song by Johnny Cash.

As I was making him promise it, I remember I had an image in my head of us at 80, all cranky because of all the time we've spent with each other, and Jason singing that song at me to irritate me, and me yelling, "You promised! You promised me you'd never sing that song!"

That leads us into remembering the dream I had last night, which was that VH1 was showing this retrospective of The Cure's career with rare concert footage and interviews. This, my friends, would never, ever happen, and that's why this was a dream.

I actually got to watch this show in my head, though. My brain whipped up one truly ass-rocking Cure documentary for me. Thank you, brain.

For some reason, this made me remember the Prince interview I saw once, where he refused to speak to the interviewer. The interviewer would ask a question, and Prince would whisper his answer into the ear of the person sitting next to him, who would relay the answer to the interviewer and thus the world at large.

And then I thought of the weird-ass love scene in Grafitti Bridge, which must have reset my brain because then I thought

I like ice cream with texture.

Which I do, actually. Sling some ice cream my way that has nuts or chunks of chocolate or big nasty wads of coconut that you think is lint at first, and I am a happy gal.

Yes. Because I like to mistakenly think there is lint in my food.

Anyway, my thoughts sort of fizzled at that point, into little pseudo-thoughts, like

Oooo we have bananas is that a spider over there on the wall?

and

I ordered that Charles Manson news report a long time ago where the hell is it shoes belt brush better turn the music down.

So there you go. Welcome to my head. Enjoy your stay, but please follow the rules.

More love today,

-Mlle R