Even weird for Tucson

8 05 2008

I know it’s more interesting and relevant for me to write about matters that everyone can get a grasp on – 24, the Sutherlands (swoon), the wet lippers on The Apprentice, the cultural petit mal of Britain’s Got Talent – but my mind has gone blank. 

 

Still there a couple of things.

I really shouldn’t watch 24 – oh, I am writing about 24 –  just before going to bed, it’s become a bit of a routine; especially now that Jackson has hopped onto the 24 ship with me. I like that we can shout at the TV together and I have someone to comfort me when a much beloved character dies, like……..like………like…..nah, I won’t ruin it for you, but I’m not so engrossed in it if there is someone else sitting next to me. Apparently I have a special 24 face when I watch the series, it’s one of total engrossation, fixation, attentionation, shock, horror and awe. But if every few minutes I have to turn to Jackson and say something like “NOOOOOOOOOO”, which is about all I can muster in the excitement, along with punching cushions, then the face is sometimes lost – the face comes from total 100% concentration. Still – last night the 24 FACE WAS ON. We were watching the fourth-to-last episode of series 6 and what the fnawwheuudoooafoo??? 

I think I’ve digressed from my original point which really is say, I have to stop watching 24, whilst drinking maximum impact sugary cream soda just before bed. It gives me bad dreams. This is aided by the fact of me being a relative expert on modern horror films, just by virtue of association with Jackson. What he knows, I now know, and that is a lot. Two nights ago I had this dream:

 

A dentist was fitting me with a new plasticy retainer thing. He asks me “So if you were to go the newsagents right now, what would you say?”

Me: “Can I have a newspaper please” (duh)

Dentist: “ahhh”.

He clearly wasn’t happy with this answer because he then turned away from me in his big flappy blue gown and reached into a tank of water and took out a…….. SALTING HAM. Which he then carried passed me, drying it in that paper towel stuff you get at the doctors/dentists and he dripped HAM JUICE on my knee. Which is gross, particularly if you don’t eat meat. But it does get worse, yeah I know that wasn’t really anything. Anyway, he turns away from me, momentarily hiding the salted ham, and then turns back to show he is actually holding a SKIN HEAD!!!! It was a big, pink, fleshy, huge head with no bone in it, just the flesh, all pink and puckered, just like a salted ham. It was a Leatherface dream!! And then, as the dentist turned to me, the top of the head flapped open like a hard boiled egg to reveal even more fleshy pink grossness. 

But, as I am now quite hardened to horror films and have seen all incarnations of the The Texas Chainsaw (gap and no gap version, beginnings and endings) Massacre, I felt midly sick at this, not much else, until the dentist told me that if I wanted he could give me a small chocolate skull to eat – and this made me cry. in the dream. Not the salting ham, fleshy pink dead head, perfect for Luda Mae’s Sunday roast, but the small chocolate skull. 

 

Weird. Very weird.It’s even weird for Tucson, and Tucson is the weird capital of the world.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(everyone Jack touches dies)

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