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.)
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Random theater offer: Boston theater company Liars and Believers is offering STM fans a special 2-for-1 discount on tickets for their new show Song of Songs: A LoveRomp. It's a really cool show directed by my very own brother! The offer is good for this coming weekend, June 2-5. The discount code is SONG. Read about it and get tickets here.
Final merch reminder: This is the last day to get a free shirt when you buy four! Detail over in the right-hand column.
And then there's this. I haven't mentioned in a while another bizarre sleep-related habit of his: Often, when Adam wakes up, it is quite suddenly and with a fully-formed, completely coherent pronouncement.
Adam is talking about a MythBusters episode from last week in which they tackle a scene from the Bourne Supremacy involving a magazine, a toaster, and a gaggle of blown-up bad guys.
ADAM:
(waking suddenly) The timer on the toaster! The timer.
KAREN:
The timer on the toaster?
ADAM:
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah. You know on that MythBusters one, when they had the magazine in the toaster?
KAREN:
(incredulously) Yes?
ADAM:
It can't work because there's always a timer in the toaster and you can't get the toaster to work for 12 minutes. There's no toaster that toasts for 12 minutes.
KAREN:
I have to ask you: How is it possible—
ADAM:
I just thought of it.
KAREN:
But you must have thought of it while you were still asleep!
ADAM:
I had a picture in my head of the toaster.
KAREN:
Oh my god.
ADAM:
I remember seeing the toaster, and I'm like, yeah, imagine him walking out the door and hearing the toaster just go "ca-ching!" He would be like "Fuck, I put it on to light toast again!"
You think the cringe factor on this one was tough for you? I had to listen to it not only IN PERSON, but about five more times to transcribe it exactly. Ugh, I hope I never have to hear it again (shiver).
Sounds like STM keeps up with current events. And this next one is no doubt inspired by the Monaco Grand Prix this weekend, which Adam awaits with great anticipation.
"Kiss the apex… gentle on the throttle... faster... yeah... turn ten, ninety miles an hour— (incredulous exclamation) Who put a fucking zebra crossing—?! Seriously, what the fuck? Goddamnit. Come on then, granny, hurry up, move across. Jesus! Fuck!"
Adam said this one a couple of nights ago, and I have been chanting it in my head (and sometimes not in my head) relentlessly ever since.
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Merch reminder: You've only got a few more days of the buy-4-get-5th-free promo. So hurry up and find four friends, take down their orders, and snatch the free one for yourself! Detail in right-hand column.
I've been saving this one in the nest-egg for just the right occasion. For those who don't follow the news closely and are thus befuddled, here's the story, which was huge news in the States.
"(in commentator tone) Oh, the penguin parade. Splendidly turned out, in his black and white coat and beautiful red and orange beak. And following him is w— It's dressed exactly the same. No imagination, these puffins. Boring fuckers, really."
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Merch news: I've got a few new things coming into the shops, just in time for a great promo! You'll find I bet you wish you could wear a onesie (finally!), Disco ain't dead, and later today, I'm not waving at you. Buy 'em all!
On a entirely unrelated note, Google Ads never ceases to amuse me. It really does do it's best to figure out what ads to put on your page, based on the keywords it picks up. Today, I'm seeing "Is Your Husband Cheating? New Software To Tap His Cell Phone No access to his phone required."
Yes, it's true, I have very long, thick, curly hair. And yes, when I comb it out in the shower, I always end up with a big tangled hunk in my comb, which I then put on the side of the tub. And yes, it does indeed look like some sort of forlorn little creature. BUT, I have never, NOT A SINGLE TIME, forgotten to throw it away. In fact, the only time Adam ever sees it is when he comes in during my shower to give me a kiss goodbye. So there, STM, you can just stick your little dig right up your poop-chute.
"Don't you dare interrupt me. You can interrupt me when I'm fucking finished."
I'm not sure this is quite what Lennon and McCartney meant.
After this, Adam shifted his legs on top of mine, so that he had them pinned. Although he did seem to find something sweet about it at first, he didn't ultimately find it comfortable, lucky for me:
And finally, the awakening. I'll preface this by mentioning that Adam and I were at a car boot sale (i.e., flea market) yesterday, and I was searching (in vain, in turned out) for a large set square:
It's my BIRTHDAY!! Here are a couple of the gifts that STM gave me early this morning:
"I hope you guys don't mind, but I brought my vegetarian substitute. Would you mind cooking that roast leg of lamb for me? Just don't let your veggie burgers touch it. Thank you."
Hey everyone. Unfortunately, blogger has been down all day until now, so I was never able to post. I'm just going to hold off today's gems for tomorrow's entry. I wouldn't want anyone to have missed a single moment of STM's wisdom.
Weirdly, yesterday's post seems to have disappeared as well.
"I can't drive with the roof down, but where are we gonna put the dolphins? They love to feel the wind in their blowhole. Pfffffffffff, blowhoooole! Click click click squeak, click squeak squeeeeeak. Awwww, they said 'I love you'. I love you too, dolphins. Just sit down in the back."
And finally, the awakening! I must first explain that "grum" is the name I've given to the little grunting/humming sounds I sometimes make to try and tempt STM to show himself. It often works. This morning, in combination with my hayfever sniffling, it backfired on me:
This one's from the nest-egg; Adam hasn't talked for a few days. Perhaps STM is off on holiday? Anyway, I assure you, this is not about MY family, which is neither giant, nor a cluster-fuck.
"No more fucking chips. Ohhh. Oh, go on then. With ketchup and mayonnaise. Love you, chips. Chips are my friends. In my tummy, friends! Numnumnumnumnuuuuuum."
When we were in Belgium last weekend, we had chips (i.e., fries) with every single meal. This is not an exaggeration. Adam came out with this utterance the night we got home. It's nice that he is so inviting toward the chips. Wouldn't you get in his tummy?
"This waffle is my waffle. I will put my ice cream, my sauce, my cream, and even possibly my strawberries on my waffle. And you will watch me eat my waffle. You will watch me as I carefully slice it up bit by bit. You will watch me wipe my mouth and watch me pay. And then you can have some water and we'll go home. My waffle, your loss."
This one was uttered Saturday night, in Bruges, Belgium. That evening, we had spent about an hour and a half scouring the streets of Bruges for a waffle joint that was still open. We finally found one, and Adam selflessly SHARED with me a delicious waffle laden with the toppings enumerated above.
And this is from yesterday morning, when I woke up to find Adam uncharacteristically awake before me:
Well, the latest news is that a small group of U.S. forces deep in Pakistan have killed Osama Bin Laden. They went in, had a gun fight, killed him, took his body away, and apparently they're saying they buried him at sea.
KAREN:
Why would they do that? That sounds fishy.
BOTH:
(pregnant pause)
KAREN:
Don't. (Adam breaks down laughing) As soon as it was out of my mouth...
