Beatboxing

Monday morning. Just me, my laptop...and my fiancee beatboxing in his sleep next to me.

"Yeaahhh...fuck you!...Mmm, nooo, the rich man kissed her butt. She's dead."

"Barely, you won, but Tony, your druid needs to re-roll."

"Let's play a game."
"What game?"
"Who Doesn't Get Horny First."
"Uh...I win?"
"Your pothole is bigger, it'll be a minute."

"You do favors to young people, and they're all like, 'ha-hah!' and you're all like, 'fuck you.' It's just annoying, is all, you know what I mean? Stupids."

"You just gotta be grimacing cute. Can't use my face, it's not ferocious enough."

"Hiya! The iron galvanizes the material galvanize...We're not Tuesday!"

"Yeah, but you gotta give it laaa...you should have bought it when we got there, 'cause we can't take it with us now."

"The ceiling hands!"

(Dorian stirs)
"I hate this part of the day."
"What's that?"
"When I just can't wake up...why...why are we on French food guide?"

Prawn Sandwich

As we went to bed, Dorian commented, "Your hair is like the Estonian embassy."
I waited several seconds for him to explain, but he said nothing else after that.
"You gonna elaborate, or you gonna just leave me with that for the next several hours--"
"Yup."

"If Phil's haircut had a flavor, it'd be lemon-lime-lame."

"On the bass, the medula! Ba dum dum dum dum...The cymbals, the central nervous system! Vocals, we have the subconscious! (sings) IIII'mmm not tall enough (ends singing)...oh, that's sad...disappointed band manager, the conscience...My band sucks."

"I'm like the Dalai Lama of kicking ass."

"Adom...Adom...Adom..."
"Uh?"
"Can we (mumbles)?"
"Hnh?"
"We can get them with the sauce."
"Hnh."
"Adom, are you awake?"
"Yeah."
"Can we get some prawns? They're like shrimp, but big. Big shrimp. Which is a contradiction."
"You want to get prawns, now?"
"We can eat them with sauces, or have a praaawn saaandwiiich..."
"Are YOU awake?"

(I'm not sure he was actually asleep for this one, or just trying to ire me.)
"Adom...Adom..."
"Huh?"
"...Strange things are afoot at the Circle K."
"I'm going back to sleep, now."

Wallaby Stone

This morning, Dorian sang in his sleep. Several minutes passed as I listened to him hum and mumble, trying unsuccessfully to identify the tune. Finally, I asked him.
"What are you singing?"
Without waking, he responded, "'I'm Going to Stab Arthur in the Face With a Pen.' It's a song I wrote."

"It's not a wallaby convention, this isn't Rocko's Modern Life...Harry Potter and the Wallaby Stone...Voldemort was really disappointed, lost interest quickly."

Huitzilopochtli

Dorian fell asleep while we watched Flight of the Conchords. He made a remarkable lack of sense.

"Honey, you're snoring."
"I'm awake."
"No, you're not. Let's go to bed."
"I am bed."
"C'mon, let's go to bed."
"The thing. It's going to open into a cat...it doesn't have a collarbone, no collarbone, just shoulders...and I'm prying the head open with the fluffy parsley and it's on a stick too small..."
"You're not making any sense."
"That's 'cause of the river."
"What'd the river do?"
"It's wet...and hot...making me wear a red T-shirt."


"You can wreck your share of things."
"Hmm?"
"I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Brian, Prime Minister of New Zealand."

"Dorian, c'mon, let's go to bed."
"You should trim the bushes, there's too many thorns...it's not good for weapon crafting...I'll be sexy again someday!"

"We were watching the Aztec gods on ice. Huitzilopochtli was there...it's hard being the hummingbird god and convincing people you're dangerous...it was awful...terrible..."

"I love you...don't transfer everything...don't, 'cause we need the wolverine."

"I feel like I'm not really appreciated by the consulate."
"I appreciate you."
"That's good. You're wearing clothes."


"I am bed...I am bed...I am bed...we are bed....he had a thing on his foot, why can't we have any fun? I designed it as not, but it has...which is cool. Hide the hedgehog."

"Did you just call me a hippo?"

"I don't want to be in the deposit with the people with no breasts! It's hard to fit next to them."

"From the looks of it...you're very sexy."

 "I have another gun, but I can't use it, yet. Carrots to go take care of."

(Dorian mumbles something.)
"Hmm?"
"Wha?...No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."
"What?"
"I raised my voice. I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you." (Dorian takes my hand and places it on his crotch) "Donde esta la bibliotheque? It's lame, that's what it is."
 

Mushroom, mushroom

I'm having a hard time sleeping tonight. Dorian is not so troubled. This is not entirely coincidental.

As I tried to get him to wake up off the couch so we could go to bed in bed, he fell asleep mid sentence:
"I'm coming, sweetie, don't worry. Just leave the thing at the stuff and I'll pick him up and put him on the five..."
"My love--"
"Shh, you'll wake him up."

This took place about three hours after we went to bed. It's been a stormy night, and the storm was directly above us at this point.
Dorian: "Hey!"
Me: "Hnh?"
Dorian: "We should go to bed, now."
Me: "Oh...okay..."
(I close my eyes. Lightning strikes, thunder claps)
Dorian: "So stop playing with the lights."

(Dorian rolls over and pulls my pillow out from under my head)
"Need this to fight the badgers. Can't see the badgers."

You can pick your friends...

I am typing this from underneath Dorian, who has fallen asleep on top of me and is not responding to prompts to get him to wake up and go to bed properly.

"Dorian..."
"Hnh."
"Dorian."
"I'm sorry. I'm building things...I don't want to fill them...okay, I will. On June 8th."
"Dorian."
Dorian stirred slightly, and moved his hand, whapping me in the face in the process.
"Oh, sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean to poke you in the face."

Then he shoved his finger up my nose.

Watergate

"No! Tim...he took my nose out at the Watergate..."

(I roll over)
"Don't do it!"
"Don't do what?"
"Exactly."

(A long sentence in what I think was Farsi) "And that's why fuck you."