Low on the Go!

a day of weird dreams.

I figure, when there's a case of writer's block, the best way to deal with this is just to press through. Maybe this comes from my Chinese upbringing. As a child, growing up, I was never allowed to miss school. Throughout high school I must've had an almost perfect track record. I even went into an exam once, only to be forced home because I was vomiting too much.

Thus, I have decided that I am going to press through this writer's block and write about a dream I had last night. But before that, a short description of what I was up to before heading to bed.

Last night, I was visiting my friend Dave in Fort Saskatchewan. He was busy barbecuing outside, and I was inside, frying the mushrooms. UFC was on, so I was sporadically keeping my eye on the telly. The fight was over, the champion announced, and I noticed the winner wearing a t-shirt proudly displaying the words "Condomdepot.com." I chuckle and mention this to Dave, who says that it must be one of the fighter's sponsors.

Fastforward to nighttime. I get home around 11:15 and climb into bed shortly thereafter. Sleep washes over me. I fall asleep very fast and deeply. Suddenly, I find myself standing next to my friend Shelly. I realize I have a feminine emergency, and after rifling through my purse, I ask her if I can borrow a tampon. She says yes, and pulls out what appears to be a set of condoms in tiny square packages. I think to myself, "That is weird." I ask Shelly why her tampons look like condoms. She shoots me a piercing glare and declares in a very Shelly voice, "They're not condoms. They're what I use instead of tampons!"

I take the condom-looking-feminine-product and head to a bathroom stall. There, I rip it open, and just like I predicted, it IS a condom! But I trust Shelly, and proceed to try to figure out how to use the err...non-condom. I unfold it, and it becomes bigger and bigger and suddenly is no longer the off-white latex colour, but rather very maroon. Not only has the colour changed, but so has the shape! It has now morphed into....a pair of maroon rain pants with a diagonal silver stripe across the knee! You know, the kind you once wore when you were in elementary school in the 90s with a matching track jacket (or the kind that your present-day-susan powter-jane fonda look alike-physed teacher wears). I look at the once-non-condom-feminine-product-turned-maroon-trackpants and stand puzzled. How am I supposed to use this?

I wake up.

I blame my friend Dave and his UFC watching habits for this bizarre dream.

(If you started reading this half-way through, PLEASE note that this was a dream, and that my friend Shelly does not walk around with a string of unused "condom" packs in her purse.)