Some content on this page is not suitable for young eyes or faint hearts. Views expressed by Sleep Talkin' Man rarely reflect the opinions of waking Adam. Especially the desire to exterminate all vegetarians (but he does hate lentils.)
"From now on, papaya shall be known as cunt-fruit. Yes. Nasty cunt-fruit. Mushy and smelly cunt-fruit. You don't like the word, don't make me say it again."
"You never take my balloons out for a walk. They need some fresh fucking air, take 'em outside this time. And on a long walk. They like the sun. Don't take them to the park. I don't want them on the swings, they're too little for swings. And the round-a-bout will make them sick, just take them on a nice walk. See the duckies. Bye balloons!"
I don't know about the velociraptor, but I can definitely explain this one. We've had this balloon sitting around the house from Adam's birthday celebration. It's mortifyingly ugly, but I've kept it simply because I'm astounded by how long it has managed to stay afloat. It's been six weeks, people! It's like the balloon and I are in a competition to see who can last longer.
Before it dies of knife wounds tonight, I'm going to give it a moment of fame. So here it is:
And here's the close-up. See if you can spot my attempt at personalization:
All he needs are some pom-poms and a short skirt! You guys should be really relieved I didn't photoshop that one.
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Merch update: There were some problems with the artwork last night, but I really will get "I bet you wish you could wear a onesie" onesies into the shops today.
When I played this one for Adam, he said, "Oh no, people are going to think I'm just trying to plug merchandise." To which I responded, "Hey, what a great idea!" So, here you go, people. Don't you want your baby to look as good as STM? Get your onesies here!
Actually, that quote's not in the shop yet, I'll have it in by tonight.
Well, STM may not be a very sensitive teacher, but he certainly gets results. I'm sure that you all remember the Pythagorean Theorem. How to calculate the sides of a right triangle? a2 + b2 = c2? Come on, this is geometry 101, people!
And here's a conversation from the early morning. Note that a "lie in" is a day that you don't have to get up and out of bed early, and, yes, that's how "zebra" is pronounced here (I'm rather mortified that this sort of thing is happening. But at least I'm not developing the Madonna accent).
For those who spent the late 70's - early 80's in a cave (or as a mere twinkle in their parents' eyes), Pong was, like, the first video game most of us ever saw! Ah, the memories....
KAREN:
You said something like, "I don't wanna be a moose. You can't play pong."
ADAM:
Maybe with their antlers they could.
KAREN:
Yeah. They could even play pong against themselves, between their two antlers.
ADAM:
Oh!
KAREN:
Solitaire pong.
ADAM:
No, it's a bit boring, 'cause they can't watch it, though.
KAREN:
(getting sleepy) Mmm.
ADAM:
It'd make them go dizzy, and give them eye strain.
KAREN:
Mmmm.
ADAM:
It could be like a mating ritual between two moose. I take it it is "moose" not "mice".
KAREN:
(more sleepy) Mm-hmm
ADAM:
Or meese.
KAREN:
Mm.
ADAM:
Like geese and goose.
KAREN:
(totally sleepy) Mmmm.
ADAM:
Moose and meese.
KAREN:
Mmmmm.
ADAM:
I wonder why. Why does that one break the rules?
KAREN:
Mmm-hmmm.
ADAM:
You're not even listening.
KAREN:
Mmmmmm.
ADAM:
It's ok, I'm used to it. Sleep Talkin' Man is used to it, as well.
That fascinating declaration was from the nest-egg, as there was no sleep talking per se last night. I did, however, find the following bizarre conversation, of which neither Adam nor I have any recollection.
"If you really keep trying to argue your case, I'm gonna be forced to shove my arm down your throat, and rip out your fucking voicebox. Ok? Good. No more questions, m'lord."
Apparently, STM is a barrister (lawyer), trying a case in court. The "m'lord" gives it away. I'm pretty sure this is what would be called badgering the witness.
"Working nine to five, it's all gone to shit. Whatever happened to my wrestling desire?"
Karen's notes: The justice system is a bit weird in the UK. Barristers are lawyers who try cases in court, and solicitors are lawyers who, uh, do all the other stuff. Barristers still wear frilly grey wigs and long black robes in court. Strangely, the wigs are made to look extremely fake on purpose, I have never been able to make sense of why. And Adam's cousin, who is a barrister, tells us that the more tired and tattered your wig, the more respect it garners.
"If she sends me one more fucking smiley face emoticon, I'm gonna shove that keyboard so far up her arse, she's gonna have to tweak her nipples to force quit."
Going backwards, here's a little something from the beginning of the night, about 10 minutes after we'd gotten into bed. I love how he fights his way through his skepticism that this could be happening, and finally manages to recover:
Don't forget, yanks, chips = fries. In some European countries, it is customary to dip fries/chips in mayo rather than ketchup. Speaking for myself, I dip mine in a mixture of the two.
"I've got so much love, and so little time to share it. So hard."
Wow, how very sensitive of STM. And what a pathetic tone. Almost makes you sad for him, to think that any of his love might be wasted.
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Merch update: After loads of requests, I have added "You're like a slinky" to the shops. I struggled with whether to do so, because it turns out that STM was plagiarizing. But, I figured, I'd put it in there, and let you guys make your own choice.
By the way, this is not the first time that Adam has said something in his sleep that he heard somewhere. The bizarre part is that Adam has no recollection of having heard it. He was as surprised as I was to learn that it wasn't original!
Speaking of buying flowers: A few weeks ago, Adam met me at the tube after work with a bunch of tulips. He said, "Someone on the train was humming 'You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore' and I thought, 'Hey, I DON'T bring flowers anymore!' So I got you these."
"Even the accounting chicken needs love. Poor thing. Peck peck, plus one… peck peck peck, divide… budget budget…"
He sits in a room with a little calculator, all by himself... baaaaawk, tak tak tak tak tak, ba-gaaaawk... BAGAWK? tak tak tak tak tak. End of the day, lays an egg, goes home happy.
KAREN:
Laser leg?!
ADAM:
Lays an egg! Or is it only hens that lay eggs? What's the difference between a hen and a chicken?
KAREN:
Baby, all chickens are hens, and they're all female.
ADAM:
Well why do they call them chickens, though, why don't they call them hens? Hmmm?
KAREN:
Hmm. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe the term "chicken" actually includes rooster in it, even though we don't think of it that way.
ADAM:
I'm thinking that chicken is a female, but the difference between a hen and a chicken is a hen lays eggs, chickens you eat.
KAREN:
Baby, I'm not sure what you said makes sense. So here's what-- I'm going to repeat it back to you--
ADAM:
Because it lays eggs, you don't eat the hens. But chickens you eat. Nope, I'm gonna have to find out, this is bugging me now.
KAREN:
Okay, google "chicken".
ADAM:
Don't crowd me when I work... People have asked this before I'm sure... (types "what's the difference between a chicken and a hen").
KAREN:
Oh, I was right in the thing I postulated.
ADAM:
Oh, so they're both chickens. Chicken is the bird, a female chicken is a hen, a male chicken is a rooster. Right! Okay.
KAREN:
I love being right.
ADAM:
You love yourself a lot, don't you?
KAREN:
Is that your way of saying I'm right a lot? That's what it sounds like.
I have no idea what to make of this one. Except, I suppose, that Adam and I were often in monkey sandwiches when we were volunteering at the sanctuary. Does STM think we're idiots?!
And here are a series of bizarre noises. It sounds something like "(grumble grumble grumble) Grrrrrrrrr bingo. Sweet!"
"Three jellybeans for me-- I'll take more, yeah. Four, five... I've got jellybeans in all different colours. Jellybean jamboree for me. Jiggle my jellybeans! Jiggle my jellybeans! Mmmm, I love you jellybean. Yeah, watermelon. Yuch, red one's horrible though."
Adam's referring to a program that I came across while perusing the TV guide Friday night. It was such a brilliant example of the state of television programming today, I just had to read to him:
Please note, we did NOT watch this program.
STM:
DISCHARGE!
KAREN:
Uh... okay...
ADAM:
I didn't say anything, I didn't.
KAREN:
Okay, you didn't.
ADAM:
That was horrible.
KAREN:
Do you know—
ADAM:
That was visual!
KAREN:
What did—
ADAM:
Oh, oh, I pictured it in my head. And I know I said it, because I screamed it in my head.
KAREN:
What exactly were you seeing in your head?
ADAM:
Do you remember the program, last night?
KAREN:
Yes.
ADAM:
That's what I had in my head. A giant one.
KAREN:
So in your head, you were seeing a giant vagina... leaking?
ADAM:
I was seeing enormous vaginal discharge. It was like a tsunami flowing towards me. I think I was shouting to warn the neighbors.
"Any attempt at being intelligent is fucking futile. Now go take your banana and play on a friggin' rope… Hello, and what would you like for Christmas?"
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Karen's notes: Concerning that first one, this is STM's imitation of the Talking Clock, a phone number you can call to listen to the time. Adam's mother tells us that when she was younger and working at a lame job, she used to regularly call the Talking Clock out of sheer boredom.
And that last one, well, now we know what we'd get if STM were Santa.