I did NOT forget this existed!

Our work and sleep schedules have not been in sync these past few months. I've been getting up and going to work just after Dorian goes to bed, so I haven't heard much of him lately.

But my site is closed for this week, and lookit that, new material!

"You are my stickbug. My little stickbug." (Rolls over, snuggles me.) "And you are caught in my web of love!"

"Oh, so you're just gonna sit here and drink coffee at your desk all day." (Sincerely, apologetically.) "Oh, no, no, don't get up, you're fine. It's not a problem."

"I've got that boom boom pow..."

And, finally, this incident:

I am asleep, my back to Dorian, who is facing me. I wake up to him giggling--no, cackling loudly in his sleep. His cackles continue enthusiastically for several seconds...and then he punches me in the back of the head. (Very lightly, he was asleep, after all.)

As I lay there dumbfounded, he make a gleeful noise, sighs happily, and snuggles back into his pillow.

Morpheus II

"Haha, instead of 'faulty logic,' 'salty logic.' It's logic that makes certain people annoyed. Like when I have to go through semantics with you."

"Goddammit! The Dream King's being a fucker today. He's not letting me go."

Sir Synth-A-Lot

(Dorian, impressed): "I did not know your screwdriver was that big."
Me: "What?"
(In a tone that suggests this is obvious, and explains everything: "You weren't on Star Trek."

"I was meant to start a riot."

"Adom! Are you there?!"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"Oh. Nightmare confirmed. You do look good with earrings, though."

"What is it?...Oh, ok, that's what I thought. No, it looks good, I like it, it just (lapses into Spanish, spends next ten seconds talking in approving tones and nodding his head vigorously.)"

"Ugh, ugh, ugh, rocks. Backing up top to bottom. Popping the front loads. Never moving for anything. Poprocks."

"Zzz...Here, have a synthesizer."
"Where'd you get a synthesizer?"
"Took it off that homeless guy."
(Suppressing laughter.) "What? Give it back."
"No! He doesn't need it, he's homeless!"
"Exactly, that's all he's got. Give it back to him."
(Whining, loudly and petulantly, like a locomotive in the night) "Nooooooooooo...o..okay, fine."

"I like big butts and I can not lie, you other brothas can't deny, when a (grabs my rear end)...mmmm...I found a butt. Adom!"
"What."
"Adom."
"What?"
"I found a butt."

Conversation between Dorian, Arthur, and myself, on the subject of our Dagorhir friend, Drunken Bob:




Me: (Something about letting friends of ours use our camp shower, mention D-Bob as someone we'd both likely be okay with using it. "We could share it with Drunken Bob," or something.)
Arthur: "I would share a shower with that man." (He was not speaking in a sexual context; D-Bob is one of the most pleasant and good-natured fellows you could meet.)
Me: "I know, right? Yeah."
Dorian: "I wouldn't."
(Both of us look at him quizzically.)
Dorian: "He looks like he'd be a water hog."
Arthur and myself: "Oh. Yeah...yeah, he does."

Doranosaurus Rex

"Want to go to the store with me and Jim?"
"No, I don't think Jim and I should run hoover helicopters together. I just have a bad feeling that...even as an adult, Gummi Bears never made sense to me."

"It's either that, or I'm a dinosaur."

"I know where unicorns and dragons come from. There's a star cluster in the Milky Way. And I also learned how to defeat Slenderman, through the power of Nate's dad is a badass. He really needs to stop telling me what to do, though. I will not take a nap!"







"Adom! Mary is eating squirrels! Stop her!"
(He claims he said, "Skittles," referring to the school program he works in that doesn't allow candy to be consumed during program, but I know what I heard.)

"The problem with Data is that the King Midas pillow isn't in him."

Let Slip the Dogs of War

"You must not retreat, retreating is for the weak. Seventy three out of seventy nine golden retrievers retreat in the first week of battle. If you want to win the war, you need the good stuff. That's why I support the use of dalmatians."

"Adom!"
"Yes, love?"
"Are we still married?"
"Yes, love."
"Good. Oh, snap, I'm storing the three little pigs in the trunk of the car in storage. Just FYI."

"You gotta make sure the old people have a house, too. Everyone needs a house. Did you find the information on the caterpillars you were looking for? It's for the house."

I...I think the cat just told you to fuck off.

Today, Dorian and I are home sick after eating some depraved chili.

Me, at the computer, sipping Pepto-Bismol like a martini.
Dorian, in the bathroom.
Akhim, at the bathroom door, wanting to get in (presumably to use his catbox).

Akhim: "Meow. Mew. Mew. Meeeooorr. Meee-owrrr. Arrowww. Rowr. Rowr. ROWR. ROWRRR. ARRROWRRR."
Dorian, muffled through door of bathroom: "Stop it."
Akhim: "Fffuuuuuurrrowwwwrrfff!"

(We did let Akhim in to do his business.)

* * *

"The wheat farm with the blue thing. Nope, can’t do it. Seven bowls and a half. All three with a moon."

"Who’s in charge? Don’t let him stop."

"I don’t know why, but you have to, and they’re seventeen different, and I don’t know why, but you have to…zzzzz…"

"The fishing net was the first thing I saw of an Avatar thing. They firebend and caught the queso in it. Too bad there were no druids. But then they got the druids and there were flaming swords. Cheetos."

And he is still not a Nazi

"There are people on the roof!"

Dorian: "Adom, we have a problem."
Me: "What's that, love?"
Dorian: "It's...it's my arm."
Me: "What's wrong?"
Dorian: "The man. It's the man. He...my arm...KAPLOW!" (Dorian drives his elbow outward, jamming it into my eye.)
Me: "OW! Jesus fuck!"
Dorian: "Got 'im."

"Have you seen my d20? I think the rabbit hid it in the percolator. Tell Roger to get the gun."

"Where's the cat? Honey, where's the cat? You didn't let him outside, did you? We live on the second floor!"
"He's fine. He's standing on you."
"Well tell him to get a job!"

 A quick moment to talk about Akhim.

We brought Akhim home July of last year. He was twenty something then. At the time, he was a very old, old cat, who had been living in a house with another cat, three dogs, and smokers, so it was not surprising that he spent most of his day sleeping and moved very slowly. The intention upon bringing him home was to give him a place where he could comfortably, quietly, pass away.

This is a picture of Akhim the day we brought him home:

Photo courtesy of our roommate, Matt

By now, you may be thinking this is a memorial post, or a "my kitty is dying" message. It is not. Because in the last year, I've become convinced the cat is aging backwards and should have been named Merlin.

This is a much more recent picture of Akhim:

Photo also courtesy of our roommate, Matt

He's put on weight, he grooms himself, he climbs on things, he tears across the apartment chasing things only he can see, he turns the faucet on, he sits on character sheets during gaming, he plays with Tootsie Pops (inexplicably, his favorite toy), he wakes us up in the morning by brushing his tail across my face and sitting on Dorian's, he steals food he has no business eating (pizza, lemon cookies, saltines, and anything involving fried potatoes), mingles at parties, tolerates grabby babies, demands cuddles, and--when we're sad--he mimics what he sees when Dorian and I kiss by tilting his head and bopping his nose to ours multiple times.

He wakes us up when the alarm goes off, but lets us sleep in on the weekends, he greets anyone who enters the apartment as a friend, he demonstrates he understands some English. When he wants your attention, he taps you on the shoulder.

I didn't like cats before Akhim. I'm allergic, I grew up around dogs, and most cats I'd been introduced to were generally jerks. It was a while before I stopped insisting that I liked Akhim, and since I liked him, clearly he was a phouka, not a cat.

But I'm pretty sure that objective studies would conclude that Akhim is the best cat to ever exist. Our cat is awesome.

Photo by Matt. I'm not sure why Akhim is so reflective in this. He doesn't look like that, and the photo on my machine doesn't look like that, either, but the upload's colors are much less saturated. Ah well, it's a cute photo.

King Pumpkin

(Dorian starts to doze off while eating corn chips)
"Dorian! You're falling asleep with food in your mouth. Stop that."
"Mmf?...I was...contemplating the corn."

Me, trying to get out of bed to feed Akhim: "I love you."
Dorian, rolling over in his sleep and seizing my pants: "I love you, pants demon!"

"They said they had the strobe lights, but I lied. Don't worry, I'll protect you. Tobacco is a local product, it can't be grown in Iceland."

"I'm trying to wake up, but...there's...I'm trying to figure out what's real..."
(Akhim climbs onto Dorian, settles down and sits on Dorian's rear end.)
"...There's a cat on my butt...there's...lidless, upside down Tupperware stretching all the way from me to forever...and I'm looking into the Tupperware and there's all these connections to things and I'm trying to figure out what connections to connections are real and what connections to the Tupperware aren't real and I'm waking up...I guess I don't have three arms...oh, good, the only thing that was real was the cat butt."

* * *

Years and years ago, when I was very young, my family took a trip to Door County during Pumpkinfest. There were pumpkins everywhere, including on fence posts. According to my father, while my mother and I were off doing something, some other person knocked one of these post pumpkins off its perch, and my father (quick reflexes that he has) kicked out at the last second and saved the pumpkin from smashing against the hard concrete below by catching it between his foot and shin, perfectly balanced.

My mother and I still insist we don't believe that this happened.

Anyway, Dorian has heard this story...

"Your dad is sitting on the king pumpkin."
"Okay."
"Great Pumpkin."
"Uh-huh."
"He caught it with his foot."

Bruce Campbell

"Batarangs...juicy, hip-soaked pieces of foam...they don't do any damage...it's not my fault."

"Adom."
"Yes, love?"
"Adom?"
"Yes?"
"I love you. You're very special to me."
"I love you, too."
"No, no, I have to say this, it's important. I love you very much and I'm gonna be with you forever, I promise. I don't care what the Appleton Police Department says, that salad shooter was worth more than sixty bucks."

This bit sounded like he was rapping, but I couldn't make out most of what he said. Sounds like he was talking about the economy? Wouldn't surprise me if that was the case.
"Price depreciation...(mutter mutter) anticipation...(mutter mutter) in-fl-ation...(mutter mutter) imagination..."

"Waitaminute, you're not...you're not a centaur at all! Bullshit."

"Akhim ate a tube of lipstick but he refused to go to the bathroom and lie down."

"It can't be...Bruce Campbell is...traveling to other worlds, and stuff."

"One trick, sweet, is to do three or four sides and then rotate them...See? Very useful. And nice looking."

"If he wants to remain true to his thing...I have bad news, it seems your fucking guys forgot the flint and steel, so they'll have to hang out there and hope for the best."

Random Historical Facts With Dorian

Note: This was said very loudly and clearly, in such a matter-of-fact tone that I thought he was awake.

"That's right! The ancient Egyptians thought that the brain just made mucus."

A Cat Named Bacon

Hello again!

So Dorian and I finally had our legal, official wedding last month (and I'm finally getting around to catching up on this), and I wanted to start off by sharing something from that. We got married out of town, and arrived a day earlier than we had the hotel room reserved. Fortunately, we have lots of friends and family there, and my close-friend-like-a-sister Sascha and her roommate Veronica (who is also a close friend) let us crash at their place for the night.

They have two cats: Sascha's is an enormous gray Maine Coon that may or may not have some bobcat in him named Spike. Veronica's is a shorthair tabby that was a mangy, skinny, flea-infested kitten at adoption. Because of the cat's appearance back then, Veronica named her "Bacon." (Bacon is a very healthy looking, slightly round, cat now.)

So Bacon woke up in the morning around six. I woke up around six thirty. Dorian was still sleeping at seven. I'm not sure what Bacon thought of the two people lying out on the futon in the living room, but she apparently wanted us up, and so shuffled over next to the futon and  began meowing loudly. This was just enough to rouse Dorian, but not wake him up.

He rolled over, pointed an accusing finger at Bacon, and, his fingertip an inch away from Bacon's nose, shouted, "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT, DO YOU?"

This stunned Bacon into confused silence. Dorian grunted in satisfaction, and began to snore contentedly again.

And now for quotes that don't require context:

"Sweetie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make everyone gay narwhals."

"Coconuts. Coconut jam. Stick that up the calibrator. Boom!"

"Did everyone feed the giraffes? Are they still in their cage?...Oh, good, they can't come in...ceiling's too low."

Dorian: "Adom."
Me: "Mmmf."
Dorian: "We need to get more expendible friends. We're running out."
Me: 0.o

(Said in a cool, matter-of-fact tone) "There are scorpions dancing on my face. Please remove them."

"I didn't know about the orangutangs!"

Dorian: "Adom."
Me: "Uh?"
Dorian: "Adom."
Me: "What?"
Dorian: (Beatboxes, squirms rhythmically.)

Ganondorf

"Would you say that there is a brown tie...floating in water?"

"For your cake, you should make a nativity scene with Mary and Joseph and the three wise men all holding forks and knives."

"Don't believe in him...just don't...he's not Ganondorf...Ganondorf...Dannongorf..."

"Um. Why don't you have it on the shuffleboard court? Hmm?"
"Uh...it's raining."
"Ah. Hmm. Handjobs it is."

Lemon Pepper Jelly

Sometimes, when Dorian sleep talks, it seems his (considerable) vocabulary is set on "word salad." Tonight, as he fell asleep on the couch, was one of those times.

Dorian: "I got them to stop using the two liters. Now they're using parts of some guy named Logan.  The kids were...nonplussed...lunar...you don't have to be surprised when we get home...Adom, I figured it out...how you can be robust in public...pay taxes to the black guy...he took all the cashews. I'd do the same, come to think of it...Lemon pepper...jelly...Morocco...Adom, don't, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not done. Don't listen to that fool, Adom! Gamestop is bad, no free tacos...ever. When you're out on the bridge with your friend, you don't turn on the weather, right? No good. Not nearly enough tartar sauce...Got to let 'em tie it. Does the name Lord Dunsany mean anything to you?...Dun-saney. Lovecraft read Dun-saney. That's where that name comes from. Ok, mystery solved. I can have a bit of wine, now..."
(He stirs and realizes he's fallen asleep on the couch.)
Dorian: "I think I'll go to bed, now..."
(He drifts off again, and startles awake, alarmed, a moment later.)
Dorian: "Uh! Do we have figs?"
Me: "Um, no."
Dorian: "Ok, then, I'll just go to bed."
(He falls asleep again, and the song on my early music Pandora station changes. He awakens again, startled.)
Me: "You okay, sweetie?"
Dorian: "Yeah, fuck flutes, dude. This flute song is incongruous with my idea of a brat."

What?

"I'm thinking about chickens with...math things."

"Sweetie...Adom..."
"Yes, love?"
"...Bananimals."

He also slept for a while in the "Child Pose" position

Dorian hurt his back at Dagorhir practice today, so he lounged out on the living room floor, and, eventually, inevitably, fell asleep there. At one point, he sat up, but fell asleep again, and Akhim walked over to see what the hell he was doing.
"Sweetie."
"Uh?"
"Sweetie!"
"Uh."
"Dorian. Dorian. DORIAN!"
"Uhhh."
"Logus!" (Dorian's Dagorhir character name.) "DORIAN!"
"Uuuh...what?"
(As Akhim climbs into Dorian's lap.) "I didn't want you to get spooked by the cat."
(Falling back to sleep.) "Oh...he's a cannibal, you know."
"It's about seventeen feet tall, with seven legs...don't talk about your pregnancy, Java."

"Nope! You lose your armor!" (Swings his arm repeatedly, as though holding a sword.)

"See, now you have to consider, what about you're on the roof?" (Pushes someone or something, waves, and giggles.) "It flies! Whee!"

"If I were Batman, I'd sneak into people's houses and clean their bathroom mirrors. And that'd be the first thing they saw in the morning. They'd be like, 'oh, shit, this place is clean, what else happened?' and I'd be like, 'BAM! Took your couch!'"

The Bed

Ragnarok was last week, and so Dorian and I spent the week camping. Dorian, having served in the military, has a much greater commitment to Spartan living and minimalist camping than I do. Furthermore, the week leading up to Rag (and throughout most of Rag itself), I was very, very sick, and wasn't able to contribute much to the packing venture.

So let me tell you about our bed.

Our bed at Rag this year was a thick 5x6 floor rug, upon which was laid two layers of polar fleece. I had a pillow, because I insisted upon it, but Dorian used folded up clothes. This was a very economical use of packing space, but also incredibly, incredibly uncomfortable. And also far too small for two people who are not what you might call "lithe."

As I was ill, I frequently had to sit up in the middle of the night to accommodate a coughing fit. Each and every time I did, Dorian would sense there was suddenly more room in the bed, and roll over to take advantage of it. One can hardly blame him for wanting to be comfortable, but that's how this conversation ended up taking place:

"Dorian, you took my part of the bed again."
He continued to sleep. "Uhhng...no, I didn't."
"Yes, you did, love. Could you please move?"
"I didn't! See, I'm on the edge," he said, still not rousing.
At this point, Dorian reached to the right and tapped his hand against the edge of the rug...then did the same with his other hand, on the left hand side.
"You're on both edges, sweetie. I need some space."
"Uuuhhhhhhnnnnhhh...."

This continued like this for a while, until I just grabbed my pillow and laid down on top of my cloak, which had until this point been pulling double duty as my blanket. After a while, I was able to fall asleep again.

Until Dorian elbowed me in the eye.

"Ow! Dorian! That was my eyeball!"
"I need the pillow!" He shouted, wedging his arm in under my head as I sat up. "My arm will break!"
"...What."
"My arm's breaking," he insisted in his sleep, stretching his arm out over my pillow, his face buried in his cloak, which served as his pillow that evening. Sighing in irritation, I attempted to move his arm. "No! Don't! You'll break it!"
"For fuck's...Could you please move your arm."
"Can't, it'll break if I don't elevate it."

I waited a moment, then tried to lie down with my head on top of his arm--one of our cuddling positions, something I was reasonably certain he wouldn't object to.

"Noooo! Your hair will break my arm!"

And that's when I shook him awake.

We have agreed that a more serviceable bed is required for next year.



The rest are just random quotes from the week:

"It had eight months of banana, but the caltrops were too much for the raquetball administration."

"William's got to get the fire going, if he doesn't, the spoons will go hungry...he's got this...he's got this."

"Hmm. I love you."
"I love you, too."
"What time is pants?"
"...One o'clock."
"Hm...I have to...zzz..."

"There is just too much bacon...going to have to make bacon lamps."

(Long, angry groan) "I'm hot to trot."

"One brain bubble. Gotta fix. TV fix. Brain fix."

Living Room

"...living room."
"Uh? What?"
"There's a yakuza in the living room."

Covered in Bears

Our schedules finally synched up last night.

"Vegetable sprouts, bitches."

"I love you, but don't carve that in bacon, yet."
"Uh, why?"
"Jim. Bacon eater."

"What?...No, I don't have pants on fire!"

"I love you, except for one thing."
"What's that?"
(Alarmed) "You're covered in bears!"

"Uh? What? Adom?"
"Yes, love?"
"Can I have some water?"
"Sure."
"Bring it in my gray cup."
"Ok."
(Falls asleep.) "Y'...y'know why?"
"No, why?"
"Because it's the One Ring of cups. The Rick James of cups."

"There are no problems on the space station that can't be solved by drop kicking...This is a drop kick house."

(Dorian grabs my chest.)
Dorian: "Hm. I've found a D-class planet."
Me, dryly: "Yes. Double D, at that."
Dorian: "Hmm. Uninhabitable. I think I need to terraform it. With my penis."
Me: *Horrified look*
(Oh, yeah, can't wait until my father reads this entry.)

"This is full of balloons. Not like a Bajoran. Which is full of boring."

"Cute like a mouse. A little mouse...." A moment, passes, and in a very high, cute voice, he says: "Squeak!"

"Put the wig on. Get into the flying box."

I'm not sure what to think of this one. All of the implications are troubling.
(Rolls over, grabs my butt.) "Hm. Not Jim. Jim isn't mostly in Pennsylvania."

Me: "Sweetie--"
Dorian: "No! I'm reading it right now. I have to ship these orders out for movement! I'm doing it now!"
(Akhim, who has not yet been fed, mewls at the foot of the bed.)
Me: "I gotta go feed the fuzzbutt."
Dorian: "He's just pissed because he's no longer a solid."
Me: "What was he before? A gas?" (He shakes his head.) "A liquid?" (Head shake.) "Plasma?"
Dorian: "A Founder! Like Odo."
Me: "...You really have been watching too much Star Trek lately."
Dorian: "...Fire photon torpedoes."

Brimstone

Dorian talks the most in his sleep just before he wakes up, and work has had us at divergent sleep schedules the last few weeks. But I do have an update for you!

"You just wait until you get to the...flippy thing. Then you'll see."

"You really need to take into consideration just how much bacon it can withstand."

"Ravus? No, not Ravus. Can't be Ravus. He doesn't smell of brimstone."

Soggy Tacos

Nothing from Dorian this time. This is a sequence from a Facebook exchange between two of my Dagorhir friends, Kotaro and Tumbark. (With their permission, of course.)

Kotaro: “True, but who would have expected Dolph 'I must break you' Lundgren to have a Masters in a totally scientific discipline?”

Tumbark: “I would”

Kotaro: “You expect baboons to bring you pizza when you speak the right incantation.”

Tumbark: “Guess who's NOT getting delicious pizza brought by a baboon next time?”

Kotaro: “Baboon pizzas are so last year. I get my tacos delivered by phoenix now.”

Tumbark: “pfff... phoenix tacos... they burn the darn thing before you get it. Not to mention they might just take a while to be born again and then? Yup burnt and soggy tacos.”

Kotaro: “I like my tacos crispy.”

Tumbark: “... and you just walked into that one... giggity”

Kotaro: “I stand by my statement.”