Weird Dream Wednesday

Bad puns are a predatory and invasive species.

I never wanted to tell you of my many afflictions but it's time you all knew the soul-crushing truth......I suffer from TERMINAL SEVERE ACUTE INCURABLE BPS.

Oh, the torturous heartbreak that is BPS: Bad Pun Syndrome.

My BPS symptoms started flaring up again last night, cleverly waiting until I was floating in a dream state with my BPS defense system down.

Blame it on too many doses of Muskrat Love but I endured an entire dream sequence that revolved around not the cheesy 70's superstar duo, Captain and Tennille, but instead their pillowy soft bedspread material counterpart.......The Captain and CHENILLE.

It was horrifyingly real and very upsetting especially since I'm ardently anti-chenille.

I think the chenille manufacturers strategically place conspiratorial musings against the rest of us on their bedspreads using the little puckered dots that's synonymous with chenille.

It reads like Braille so that only blind people can run their hands along the dots and decipher the true secret of the chenille bedspread.

The True Secret of the Chenille Bedspread....sounds like a Nancy Drew novel, doesn't it?

However, because of my sheer determination not to succumb to the ill effects of my BPS disease, I survived the night of BPS mind games.

I must be strong and the next time The Captain and Chenille rears its ugly head I can tell it (Don't) Do That To Me One More Time because not even Love Will Keep Us Together!

The Smiling Infidel Has Dirty Fans

It's true. My fans are dirtier than your fans.
Say it with me: How dirty are they?
Oh, very dirty. Very, very dirty.
Dirtier than dirty rice on a dirty floor, dirty.
Until last Friday my ceiling fans were so filthy stinkin dirty that when the oldest Infidel daughter voluntarily cleaned them, the youngest Infidel daughter, Melody looked up with her eyes wide in sheer wonderment as she exclaimed, "Wow! You shaved the gray beard off the fan!!!"
Yes, perhaps I can knit everyone on my Christmas list a nice Nordic-patterned loincloth and matching legwarmers out of the extraordinarily thick and wooly fan dust we collected.
I'm better at making up creative stories than I am at cleaning.
Don't get me wrong, I'm totally grateful to my daughter for braving the dust bunny army marching across the fan blades but it's not like I didn't already have an embellished cover story concocted to explain it away to family coming to our house for the holidays.
I was simply going to tell them that fluffy ceiling fans from the Fuzzy Wuzzy Fan Company are all the rage among the fashionable set in Europe.
Or that I'm a pioneer in the homegrown Gray Toupee business.........or that I'm decorating my whole house in a dingy shade of gray and I color-coordinated the fans first to match everything.
If that fails I suppose I could sprinkle some star-shaped glitter into the piles of dust and sell it at the Flea Market as genuine Stardust.
See, in the time spent writing this post I could have been making money with my vast collection of fan dust.
You should be paying me for my valuable time that I spend here instead of cleaning.

My Neighbors Are Dirty Swingers

Don't believe me? Just look at this filthy display they've plopped right in the front yard for all the world to see.
Have they no decency? Whatever happened to shame? Did they leave this out in the open as a sort-of invitation for any and all passerbys to join in with them and their dirty swinger lifestyle?

Well, dangit, I want to be a dirty swinger, too! We have more trees than these people do-and I can surely rustle up some sofa cushions, rope, and white duct tape to make my own set of impoverished Third World Neighborhood swings. I may even add some festive ribbons and a cowbell so that mine's fancier than theirs.

Once I get these marvels of the swinging industry up and running, I'll invite you all to my Welcome To Swingtown! party. I hope you don't mind dropping your keys into a giant empty pickle jar so that we can play a little swap game called Swinger Switcheroo. I'd like to keep my naughty swinger freak side, satisfied.

I Have A Number One Fan! And It's Never Even Tried To Hobble Me Either!

I'm smokin hot! How smokin hot am I? So hot that I got my own Infidel Fan Club, baby! Yeah, that's right, a lesser Infidel celebrity might feel annoyed at fans following them around, but not me. In fact, I welcome fans of all shapes, sizes, and colors, because I'm very diverse like that. It may seem a little co-dependent, but I'm just not happy without at least one fan in every room. Never before have I felt so cool. I recommend that everyone get a Fan Club for themselves!

Want to join the Infidel Fan Club? Simply send your Infidel Fan Club membership dues to the President of my Fan Club who's located at Houston Lighting And Power Company. They're doing a FANtastic (bad pun alert!) job keeping my Fan Club going although interest usually wanes during the wintertime. *Here's the newest members of my Fan Club right here!*