I shall start off by letting you know the search terms from people that led to our blog this week. "Koreans compliment too much" was one search term on there. You're welcome, Kae, as that particular post about my Korean teachers telling my husband and me that our faces compliment each other has drawn quite the crowd. Still not as good as one last month, "Marine Corps glitter shoes." I really wonder if it was a friend trying to find our blog, but not remembering the name or anything about it, other than Señor Marine and that time I tried to glitter my own high heels. Impressive they found us, however, because I searched that term myself and didn't find our blog.
Señor Marine and I recently have started reading The Hunger Games together. By started, I mean he is finished with the trilogy and I'm about 100 pages behind him. The second and third books are pretty good, but the first book I found very disturbing for some reason. Without giving anything away and because we tend to draw a little bit of the sheltered, cut-off-from-the-world crowd (cough, cough, KAE), the basic premise of the book is about a post-apocalyptic-type United States where two teenagers from each section of the country are thrown into a fight to the death against each other, as a reminder that the Capitol is in total control of them. Read the book, the author explains it better.
Anyway, whilst reading this book, I had some crazy dreams. The most vivid one combined The Hunger Games with The Bachelor. My dream was twenty-some girls competing to the death for Señor Marine's love. Thankfully my dream wasn't too graphic. Whenever I beat up one of the other contestants, they didn't die. I would just mime hitting them and they would freeze. I fought wild dogs, I fought girls in leopard print fur minidresses, I fought rocks.
You try competing with this.
In the end, I knew what I had to do to win Señor Marine's love was buy him a motorcycle (which he has always wanted and I keep telling him no, as he will kill himself on one) and some jalapeno Cheez-its. Because I figured, Señor Marine must be tired and hungry and when he's tired and hungry, he really digs his Cheez-its. And jalapeno because, well, he's Mexican. Apparently dream Bee stereotypes a slight bit.
In my dream, I beat up these other girls to get him his presents. I set a date with him and he showed up to our date ... on a motorcycle. I was crushed. Someone else got him one, and it was better than what I had gotten him, so I couldn't give him my crappy one. I was left presenting him with the box of jalapeno Cheez-its. And just as he was about to tell me what he thought, my alarm went off and I woke up.
After this, I googled jalapeno Cheez-its. They don't exist. I called Señor Marine.
Me: "I had a dream about you."
Señor: "I love you. I love you a lot." (He always says this after I tell him I have a dream about him because frankly, Dream Señor is a bit of a tool. Actually, quite a tool. He knows this, and always precedes my recounts of dreams with a Real Life Señor reassurance.)
Me: "I tried to win your love with jalapeno Cheez-its. But I woke up before I found out if it worked."
Señor: "It would have."
Me: "I love you so much, I beat other girls to death to get you something that doesn't even exist."
Señor: "I love you so much, I'm going to pretend you aren't completely nuts."
My hair, slightly tamed for the night
Hopefully Kae deems this a worthy uplifting entry. If not, she can (um....I don't have an appropriate PG-13 insult here).
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