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.)
You just said, "I'm gonna write in my diary, 9:15..." and then you woke up. I was so excited waiting to hear what you were gonna write in your diary.
ADAM:
It's a subconscious cliff-hanger.
__________
Merch news: I'll be putting "Beer is from Mars, Chocolate is from Venus" and "I'm going to ask really nicely for you to un-fuck this situation" into shops by this afternoon! Shirts, mugs, mousepads, and other stuff! And just in time to catch these promos from Spreadshirt:
"Trousers. Trooooouuuuuusers. From my hips to my ankles, they're trousers. Oh, your fucking stupid cunty pants! Pants are small, under trousers. Get it right arsehoooooooles! Trousers."
Karen's notes: Here in the UK "pants" equals "underwear". Those long things that you wear on top are "trousers".
Of all the words I needed to alter in my vocabulary when I immigrated, this one gave me the most trouble. It was not unusual, in my first few months, for me to call to Adam across a crowded store, "See if there are any pants for you!"
Having step-children is very useful for curing one of such a error.
Karen's notes: This was from the nest-egg. I blew any opportunity to get anything out of STM by waking Adam up an hour early. It seems that the clock on my cell phone decided that, although I had already reset it to the new time (we had daylight savings last night), it should tack on another hour anyway. I was gutted.
When I told Adam about this one, I said, "Yeah, that's not interesting at all, I'm not even sure it's worth including on the blog," to which he replied, "Well, you wouldn't want to hear that during sex." Hmmm. Good point.
"The ravioli's plotting something. Always hiding his agenda. Stick with fusilli. Really trustworthy."
"Steady... steady... focus... FUCK! Concentrate, concent-- oh shit! SHIT! Hm, there we go... Ther— Oh arse cunt wobbly tits! I give up. I'll never balance this penny."
And here we have Adam entertaining us with a long series of tuneful groans and whimpers, punctuated by the sound of his hand hand having little seizures on the bed, and a single pronouncement of "poo". As all of this was happening, I was thinking to myself, "(sigh) I just know this is going to end with a punch to the headboard and swollen knuckles again." Thankfully, it didn't come to that.
"I need you to take this stapler, and ram it into your forehead. No, it won't solve the problem, but it will make me happier. Much happier. (giggles) It's funny! Now go bleed somewhere else."
Yes, we know—having since done some googling— that Adam's version of the quote is a bit of a mash-up.
ADAM:
Hang on, "Sing like a bird in a gilded cage." That's from King Lear. It was King Lear to his daughter, "We shall sing like birds in a gilded cage," when he was reunited to her.
KAREN:
Sleep Talkin' Man is so educated and well read.
ADAM:
Well I studied King Lear. Fuck off. I'm educated, he's just a hanger on. That's all. He's living off me. He's using my intelligence.
KAREN:
Are you sure you want to put forward the idea that he's living off you?
ADAM:
I need to think about that.
KAREN:
No, actually, you're both living off each other. It's a symbiotic relationship.
ADAM:
Don't throw big words at me this time of the morning.
KAREN:
You're the one who mentioned King Lear!
ADAM:
What's King Lear, that's two short words! Both of them have got four letters in it. Come on!
Karen's notes: I imagine a workplace, some company with a big open-plan layout, people doing all different sorts of different tasks, a buzz to the environment. STM stands up, claps his hands to get everyone's attention, and... you know the rest.
"I'm sure there comes a time when both your parents wish that you were the dribbling shot that should have missed the slot. What's more, that thought comes daily."
__________
Karen's notes: That one has been tucked away in the nest egg for over a year! It makes me cringe so much every time I read it, I kept trying to pretend it wasn't there. But today, it dawned on me: if I just give it its chance to shine, I can tranfer the cringe to all of you, and I'll never have to look at it again! Of course, I've just multiplied the cringe by hundreds of thousand, but I'm just self-centered enough not to care. So, here ya go, guys. Hope you enjoyed the shudder.
By the way, thanks everyone for accepting yesterday's challenge with such gusto. Many of you came to quite a similar conclusion that we did, a horizontal whack-a-whippet game. Believe me, your suggestions were way funnier than our reveal.
Karen's notes: I have a reveal in which Adam and I make sense of this seemingly random collection of items. However, he felt it was an insult to your intelligence to include it. He has faith that you can all figure out for yourselves what one would do with a whippet, three tubes, and a mallet. So don't let him down!
"When I die, I want a minute party. Best mother-fucking concentrated party in the world ever. Everything after that will just seem a little bit dull. That'll teach 'em."
It's Adam's birthday today! And, as happens every year on his birthday, he decided to give STM the night off. So, here's an appropriate little something from the archives in honor of his special day:
"Yay! It's my birthday today. And you're going to give me presents. Big fuck-off presents. Lots of them... WHERE ARE MY PRESENTS?! Tossbag."
You thought for a moment there that STM was opening up his heart to someone else? Nope, just the usual ego-wanking.
In this clip from before we went to sleep, Adam shares the daydream he had at work yesterday, inspired no doubt by STMs moving rendition of "All You Need is Duck." I need to preface this with the following information:
Molly is our little beagle dog.
We take Molly for a long romp in the park every weekend. There is a pond on our route where lots of doggies congregate. Molly actually hates water, so she barks indignantly at any dog that decides to take a swim.
Runner ducks are so named because they stand up straight and run. (see adorable image below)
Adam does not usually talk like a six-year-old, in quick staccato phrases, all of which end in an upswing. If he did, I'd happily swallow Drano just to escape it.
I was daydreaming, and I daydreamed that we decided to get a runner duck as a pet, and we hatched it, and because Molly was the first thing it saw, it thought Molly was it's mum, and so we used to take it for a walk into Richmond Park with Molly, and it used to follow Molly everywhere, and the duck learned not to go into the pond 'cause Molly would always bark, so they'd stand on the edge of the puppy pond, and Molly would bark, and the duck would quack at all the dogs. Yeah, that's my daydream at work today. We called the runner duck Harvey. Don't know why.
KAREN:
It's a good name for a duck.
ADAM:
I think so, yeah. It's a stand-up kinda name for a stand-up kinda duck. Yeah, a runner duck called Harvey. Quack.
"(singing to the tune of 'All You Need Is Love') All you need is duck. All you need is duck, duck. Duck is all you need... Quack. Mmmm. I love you, Duck. Quack. (giggles)"
Adam also tells me that he had a dream that he was Charlie Sheen's assistant, but that he could only do it as STM, because that's the only way that Charlie could understand him.
STM:
What are you doing to my hand? FUCK OFF!
ADAM:
What are you doing to my hand?
KAREN:
Nothing.
ADAM:
(suspiciously) What were you doing to my hand?
KAREN:
I was lying here.
ADAM:
(accusingly) You were trapping my hand to get me to speak?
KAREN:
Adam!
ADAM:
What were you doing to my hand?!
KAREN:
You had put your hand under my head so—
ADAM:
(disbelievingly) Oh, is that what happens? I actually managed to get my hand under your head?
KAREN:
Adam, I was lying here.
ADAM:
Yes, doing what?
KAREN:
Lying here.
ADAM:
Doing what, exactly?
KAREN:
... Lying here.
ADAM:
Seriously, what were you doing to my hand? It was stuck.
KAREN:
I don't know, baby. I don't really know how it got up there. You rolled over just a minute ago.
ADAM:
But it was under something. I couldn't move it.
KAREN:
I don't know.
ADAM:
You sure you weren't holding it?
KAREN:
Look at me! This is one arm. See this? (waves arm up and down under the cover)
ADAM:
Oh, it's floppy!
KAREN:
Well, it's all the way—
ADAM:
Oh floppy!
KAREN:
It's all the way under the covers—
ADAM:
It's like a penguin.
KAREN:
You can see that it's pinned down. You can see this other one's just sitting here.
"Stop hitting me! You're always hitting me! Hmm, maybe I shouldn't be a boxer. Postman, I'll be a postman, yes. No one hits a postman... Except if you're a boxer. Yeah, maybe I won't be a postman. I'll just be a god. Much easier."
And look what I found on the recording! It's me! I'm a slow starter, but perhaps I can one day aspire to be one-tenth as great as STM. You are all welcome to take a shot at discerning what I'm talking about, because I, for one, have no clue:
To explain this next one, you must know that Molly's best friend, Twinkle, is staying with us for ten days while her mommy is home in Greece. Twinkle randomly barks throughout the night. This always wakes me, but Adam sometimes somehow manages to sleep right through:
"(in response to Twinkle barking, STM sings) Yes it is Twinkle sitting in a tree... Shoot the cunt! Shoot the cunt!"
(Eleni, Adam doesn't really hate Twinkle! It's just the sleep-deprivation talking!) Note how Adam is at the point where he automatically blames everything unpleasant on Twinkle. To put his accusation that she has taken his duvet into perspective, Twinkle is a MINIATURE chihuahua. About the size— and weight— of a baguette. Here she is with Molly, who is a freakishly small beagle.
TWINKLE:
(cough)
STM:
Mmm.
TWINKLE:
(cough)
STM:
Mmmmm.
TWINKLE:
(cough)
STM:
Mmm?
ADAM:
You're coughing! You're coughing!
KAREN:
No, it's Twinkle. Twinkle's making this weird noise, and you were answering her in your sleep.
ADAM:
You're coughing.
KAREN:
No, it's Twinkle.
ADAM:
You're— Twinkle's coughing?
KAREN:
Yeah.
ADAM:
I hate that dog... Twinkle's taken all my duvet.
KAREN:
No, Twinkle wasn't even in the bed until a couple minutes ago.
ADAM:
(groan)
KAREN:
Actually, your duvet's sitting— You are— You are trapping your duvet underneath you. (pulls it out from under Adam and covers him up) There you are.
ADAM:
I'm hot now!
KAREN:
Oh! (uncovers him again)
ADAM:
That's better. Thank you.
KAREN:
Go back to sleep.
ADAM:
How can I sleep when your knee is in my back.
KAREN:
It's visiting you.
ADAM:
Well, it's overstayed it's welcome. Tell it to back off... Thank you!
"I'm not looking for you. I'm looking for my dragon. Draaaaaaagoooooon! Dragooooon! Draaaaagooooooooon! Drag- Oh! There you are. Good dragon. Good draaagoooon."
"This is you. This is your face. This is your face covered in feces. This is you: a shit-faced puss-sucking mother-fucking toss-arse. And this is a flower. A pretty flower. Difference: face covered in shit, pretty flower. Hmm."
"Finger painting's fun. I need to get some more fingers, though. Give me your fingers. Oh fuck it, I'll just cut 'em off. You've got pretty fingers. I can do some pretty painting with those pretty fingers. Toes, I can use toes! Yay! I'm sorted. Fingers and toes."
"(in a cute sing-song) Pee-po... Pee-po... Pee-po. (now with angry forcefulness) You are SO gonna play my game, otherwise I WILL poke out your eye and skull-fuck you. Okay?"
Are hamsters wigs wigs for hamsters, or wigs for people made out of hamster fur?
ADAM:
Ooh, that's a good question. Well, if it was the latter, how many hamsters would have to be used?
KAREN:
Yeah, but, is it a toupee, or is it like a long-hair wig?
ADAM:
No, it's a patch job.
KAREN:
'Cause maybe you'll need then— It's, like, six hamsters.
ADAM:
I reckon, it sounds like I'm shopping for my hamster. My hamster needs a wig.
KAREN:
Is it for Halloween?
ADAM:
I was actually thinking it was for his self-esteem.
KAREN:
Awwww.
ADAM:
Little baldy hamster.
KAREN:
Why does he have low self-esteem?
ADAM:
He's bald!
KAREN:
Wait! Ok, now, a hamster wig, is it just for the hamster's head, or is it the whole body?
ADAM:
I don't know. I'm just imagining this tiny little hamster with an ill-fitting, wrong-coloured little head wig. But he's happy.
KAREN:
Google "hamster wigs".
ADAM:
(types)
KAREN:
(exclamation of shock and awe!)(see image 1)
ADAM:
That's what I was thinking.
KAREN:
No!
ADAM:
Oh, look at that! That is exactly what I'm thinking of. Ill-fitting, wrong-coloured, but he's HAPPY! He is COOL! And that (see image 2) would replace a good man's set of hair.
KAREN:
That one, you would just take the whole hamster and just stick it on your head.
ADAM:
With velcro.
KAREN:
Yeah.
ADAM:
You'd have to feed it occasionally, but, you know, it's quite good.
