sequiturs

all i remember from my dream last night was that i was trying to think of an ironic and funny quip to use for my facebook status and came up with “if we have so many BPAs leeching into our plastics why are my chichis so small? yes. strange but true. it is a valid question though. these estrogen based compounds are shrinking gnad sacks left and right, undescending baby testes and putting breasts (least fave word alert) on men. but all they do for women is give us uterine cancer??? wheres the pay off, people!?

glad it was all just a dream and not a real status update.  though ive gotten brazen enough in writing these posts to publish something like that on facebook (facehole as i dubbed it) and not look back. ahh. the maturing of a writer… realizing that no one really cares what you say anyhow.

then i got to thinking that isnt it crazy theres a restaurant called chi chi’s in the first place?? people go and eat at a place called “titties” (in translation)…and think nothing of it. is it because we all used to eat at chichis when we first dropped from the womb hole? or is it because english speakers dont know thats what the name really means? in my case i didnt know the chichis secret until a dual lingo friend of mine clued me in. at that point i’d never been there anyway and it didnt matter/make me gag. sidenote; i havent been since. ive heard the food is good though.

all this inappropriate restaurant name stuff reminds me of driving down a foreign highway and seeing a place called Sambos. my eyes popped and i swerved 2 lanes.  sambos as in black sambos? now thats just fucked up… and common i’ve learned. its right in bed with another racist named restaurant, Bojangles. mr bojangles…mr bojangles…sing it baby.

After further review it seems bojangles doesnt imply the black faced uncle tom character that dances around all happy that i thought it did.  thanks wiki!  Instead its a place that honors some cool funny dancer guy bill robinson and  serves up great fried chicken in a more southern style than kfc.  yum. fried chicken. now im hungry. bojangles also means a pair of balls, for those who like what the urban dictionary is dishing out on the subject. ill pass.

we never saw fine eating establishments with questionable names in the midwest*** despite the fact that some of the most racists places ive ever been to are down in strange corners of the corn belt.  i assure you that was one hell of a litmus test, getting out at a truck stop and having everyone stare you down like an alien landed. surprise! and this was the year 2009. as youve guessed by now. no im not anglo saxon. not 100%. but who the hell is anyway. besides my dad. :)

***just kidding. we did have cracker barrel.

alrighty then. im at my 400 word count and need to move on to writing my play. so far im feeling good about my writing today so lets see what the muses have in store for me.

“hey forest. life is like writing a screen play. you never know what lines youre going to come up with.”

this can be scary. but again, you have to trust that as long as you sit down in the chair and get the keyboard out youll come up with something good. and something that you coudlnt have come up with before or after that exact moment. destiny+fate+ funtioning laptop+chamomile tea – distractions + cookies=great screenwriting=???

have a wonderful day.

and some fried chicken.

and some great writing.

love,

odie mama.

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