Urethra Franklin

Last night I got up in the middle of the night to go pee. As I was peeing, I had a brilliant blog idea. Knowing that I was still half asleep, I repeated the idea in my head five times to make sure I'd remember it in the morning. I even thought about going out into the living room and writing it down, but that was a bridge too far. I'd remember it. I'd just have to.

Image by Ben Mills via Wikimedia Commons

Flash forward to 1:30pm today.

"Wait a minute. Didn't I think of some genius blog post while peeing last night?" I said to myself. "What was it!!???!?"

I tried hard to remember for three full minutes before deciding that it must have been something nonsensical. I must have still been in a dream state when I thought of it. Oh well.

BUT THEN IT CAME TO ME. YES! The genius blog idea! I remembered it! Here it is:

• Thankfully, it seems that I'm back to vigorous, powerful pee streams. For a few months there, nothing but dribble. Something must have been up, health-wise. But no more! Urethra Franklin has her groove back!

Hmmm. 

I must say, it did seem a bit more groundbreaking at the time. 

Ciao, 

Margaret

P.S. What the heck am I meant to do with this? I asked for a green onion, not a seven-year-old tulip!

P.P.S. Penny for scale.

Life is but a dream

Whenever you feel stressed out, remember that. Life is but a dream. Nothing is real. It's all a beautiful, hilarious mirage. Those people walking around, the sounds of cars driving by, the grass, the pavement, the shirt you're wearing—all part of the dream.

Speaking of dreams, here's a list of recurring dreams I've had in my lifetime:

• Floating down from the sky on a magic carpet
• Teeth falling out
• Working on a tedious project on the computer / emailing
• Discovering a new room in my house
• Dancing at da club
• Having a baby
• Forgetting about an important deadline, only to remember several weeks later

I taught myself lucid dreaming from a young age as a tactic to prevent nightmares. Whenever I felt that a dream was headed in the wrong direction, I'd work hard to get it back on track. Lucid dreaming is hard work because your sleeping brain doesn't like changing gears in the middle of something. If my dream started leading me somewhere sketchy, I'd use all my brainpower to teleport to a happy place, like my classroom at school or my living room on Christmas morning. 

One sleep phenomenon that I had little control over, however, was my sleep paralysis. That's when your brain wakes up before your body. It's terrifying because you're completely awake and can hear the sounds of the room, but you can't open your eyes or move any part of your body. It would happen to me a few times a year as a kid and probably lasted for less than a minute each time, but it was terrifying none the less. My trick for emerging out of it was to force myself to fall back asleep (or just pretend to fall back asleep - shhh, don't tell my body!). 

Sweet dreams,

Margaret

P.S. Which dream song do you prefer?

The American Dream

I love it here in the UK. It's old. It's historic. It's charming. It's hip. When I eventually hightail it back to my homeland, there's so much that I'll miss about this place (being the exotic one, for starters).

But there are certain experiences that I just can't wait to welcome back into my life. I was daydreaming about America today, and here's what I pictured:

I drive a MASSIVE car through a MASSIVE parking lot and into a MASSIVE parking space. I get out and walk into a MASSIVE Target to buy a MASSIVE wallet that fits all of my many cards (Starbucks cards, license, old driver's permit, student IDs, debit/credit cards, hotel keys, wallet-sized Old Tyme Photos from Seaside, Oregon etc.).

Oh, did I mention it's about 11:45pm that I'm doing this? Yeah, the Northgate Target is open until midnight, so why not go nocturnal wallet shopping?

It ain't cute. No cobblestones to be found. But it's there when you need it. It's giant, familiar and nonjudgemental.

Then I drive back home along a MASSIVE five-lane freeway in a MASSIVE lane that I have all to myself. I step out into the driveway under a MASSIVE star-filled sky. Once inside, I lay down on my MASSIVE wrap-around couch and fall asleep to the sound of the dishwasher humming and the steady thump thump of the dryer heating my clothes until they're soft and wrinkle-free.

TGIF,

Margaret

Wouldn't it be great if...

My 2.5-year-old nephew Freddie is at that age where he knows what he wants, and he's not afraid to voice it! To avoid the back-and-forth and discourage the whining, a tactic my Mom taught us, and the one I notice my sister using, is to simply agree and say, in a very cheery voice, "Oh yeah, wouldn't that be great?" or "Yum, a cookie does sound good. I wish we had some too." It's pretty disarming.

So, to take a leaf out of that parenting book, instead of phrasing the following list in typical Madgespace whine format, I'm going to keep it positive and take a "Wouldn't it be great?" approach instead. I'm not complaining, I'm dreaming!


Wouldn't it be great if...

...a benevolent rich person gave me a famous painting as a gift, which I could then sell to buy a house and get on that dang property ladder I've heard so much about?

...my significant other enjoyed back massages as much as me?

...Walt Disney World was a two-hour train journey away, and cost just enough to stop me from going weekly, but not too much to stop me from going altogether (about £30)?

...there was a rail bridge over the Atlantic?

...Starbust sold packs of just reds and pinks?*

...we could buy a custom teeth-flossing machine from our dentist that was moulded just for our mouth and would be like one of those circular apple slicers, yet with floss instead of blades?

Like this, but shaped for a mouth and with floss instead of the slicers.
Image by rosmary via Wikimedia Commons

...Pinterest didn't act like it knew me? It don't know me.

...you could edit a tweet? See below.

Just bite my thumbnail down too short. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
— Margaret Kay (@grassyllama) February 4, 2015

...."boyfriend" style jeans weren't just a nice concept, but actually looked flattering when worn?

...the first sunny, hot day of the year (75°F/23°C) was always considered an automatic, federally-mandated holiday? At least for people living above a certain latitude?

...if we could go back in time and make fun of people for writing with quills? HAHAHAHHAHAHAH. Losers!

Love,
Margaret

*Edit: Turns out, this exists and I've actually already blogged about it before. Thanks to cousin Clare for letting me know! #GroundhogDay

Is life just one big jazz choir?

I've been sleeping odd hours. The result? Crazy dreams.

Last night I dreamt that I was in a jazz choir directed by Top Chef Season 12 Finalist Dougie from Portland, who also happened to be dating my cousin Maria.

We were performing at a mall, on the second floor, right near the escalator. Unfortunately, the concert got off to a late start and the song I had a solo in—'You Make My Dreams Come True' by Hall & Oates—got cut at the last minute! I was LIVID, but I kept my cool.

And that's it! I woke up halfway through our set.

Fast forward to this evening, and you'll find me in the midst of a mild-to-medium existential crisis. It's a very privileged position to be in—contemplating the universe and my role in it. I should be grateful that I have enough of my immediate boxes ticked (✓Food  ✓Water  ✓Shelter  ✓Candles  ✓Reality TV) that my only remaining need is to understand the meaning of life.

Yet, this happens to me too much. At least once a month. The big questions flood my mind and before I know it I'm Googling flights to Thailand, eating kiwis with their peels on and seriously considering deleting my Facebook. Then I picture myself writing a wildly successful memoir about my year off the grid. It's all very indulgent.

Don't worry. This will pass. It always does. I'm not deleting my Facebook any time soon.

TTFN,
Margaret

Nose curl smize. 

Wildest dream

Since I was a kid, I've always dreamed of being presented with shoeboxes full of strangers' photos that happen to capture me in the background. Every unintentional photobomb I'd ever done in my entire life. There'd be videos too. And I would spend all day studying the prints and watching the footage of my true self. 

One time Andy's brother was clicking his way through various friends-of-friends' Facebook photos and came across a zoomed out shot of Australia's Bondi Beach. It was packed towel-to-towel with sunbathers, but who did he spot in the bottom left corner? It was Andy! This random guy who took the photo—a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend of Andy's brother—just happened to be in Australia, at Bondi Beach, on the same day as Andy in 2006. 

When he sent us the link to the photo, we freaked out. It was CRAZY. Like that time, freshman year, when Barbie and I each said "there's a snake in my boot" at the exact same time completely unprompted and for no clear reason whatsoever. We'd been sitting in silence for about an hour studying, and then we just said it. It was creepy.

It must have been such a thrill for Andy to see himself in the wild like that. He came as close as anyone could to experiencing my shoebox dream. #Jealous

That's all for this Saturday evening. I put up some Christmas lights in our kitchen window, and pushpins + hard wooden window sill = blister on my thumb. But in some positive boil-related news, my zit from yesterday has formed a whitehead! The end is nigh for that sore-nose eyesore!

See ya, 

Margaret

P.S. Now I can't find the photo of Andy on Bondi Beach. I am working on it though. 

P.P.S. This post still needs a photo. This one should do. It's from a controversial gender-defying 'sexy Santa' photo shoot I did with Andy back in 2009. 

Too edgy for Madgspace?
Come on, people. It's called ART.