I am officially running on two hours of sleep over the course of three days, so no guarantees on the cohesiveness or relevance of this post.
I put up a post not long ago about my new phone and my strange text message encounter with someone looking for whomever had my number last (you can catch it here. Remember the name “Lokepa”). Well, it turns out that I would only have that phone for about a month or so before I dropped it and broke it (please don’t ask me how. One embarrassing post a day is enough).
Now hold onto that thought. We’ll be getting back to it. Trust me.
Like I said, I have insomnia. And when I can’t sleep or macrame or watch the same episode of AUTOPSY over and over and over, I amuse myself with my surroundings- namely, my phone. I wish I could tell you that I lay in bed at night playing hours of Candy Crush or Words With Friends like a normal person but I can’t. My brain isn’t wired that way. You know, normally.
No, what I have to do instead is add people I don’t actually know to my contact list. People like Morgan Freeman. And Samuel L. Jackson. And Ninth President of the United States William Henry Harrison. And because God hates me, I do all of this the night before I break my phone.
For those of you lost on the significance of this fact, please keep in mind that someone is going to have to fix my phone, and that someone is going to see what I did to it. And that someone’s name is Trevor, and he is my resident Verizon Lackey-du-jour.
Trevor thinks I’m nuts.
Because typical me, I couldn’t just upload pics and leave it at that. No, I had to actually create relevant email accounts and job titles for each of the contacts because yeah, I’m that messed up.
From the collective sound of snickering coming from the Super-Secret-Verizon-Room-of-Cellphone-Repair, I am sure Trevor and his cronies downloaded my contact list while fixing my phone. I am also sure they will mock me to their friends and probably the world too. It is because of this possibility that I am going to share my list here, on my blog, and beat them to the punch.
Now, not all of my “friends” are celebrities or inanimate objects or random body parts, some are actual people from history that I have come to admire over the years that I think you might enjoy learning about. See? My weirdness is actually a good thing! (Yeah, Trevor didn’t buy that either). So here they are in no particular order…my imaginary friend contact list:
These next two contacts may need some explaining. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the story of President William Henry Harrison, you can go here. Or, I can just tell you that he served the shortest amount of time in office (just thirty days) because he died of pneumonia. It seems President Harrison possessed a bit of machismo, and insisted he not wear a coat to his Inaugural Address.
Next we have our second President, John Adams. Back in the day he and Thomas Jefferson were the best of friends, but when they both decided to run for President, things got all Paris and Nicole. Thomas Jefferson, in a smear campaign that garnered near “Fire Crotch” attention was quoted to have said, “John Adams has a hideous hermaphroditical character, which has neither the force and firmness of a man, nor the gentleness and sensibility of a woman.”
Yup. Tommy-J just called out J’Adams for having bitch tits. And we thought the Kardashians were bad.
Some called them villains, others called them geniuses. It is estimated that Genghis Khan may have reduced the entire world’s population at the time of his reign by 11%, and according to a famous 2003 genetic study, “Around one in 200 living men carry a form of the Y chromosome that may have originated with the Great Khan himself. If true, that would mean that 0.5 percent of the world’s male population are his direct descendants.” What I was most interested to learn is that he created one of the first international postal systems and was tolerant of different religions. No amount of admiration for his battlefield prowess would spare him from what I forced him to do in Reapers With Issues, though. Hehehehe….
The next contact we all know very well, mostly as the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s novel, Dracula. Some may know him as Vlad the Impaler due to his practice of impaling his enemy on spikes all around his land. Think this is nothing more than vicious propoganda spread by his enemy, the Ottoman-Turks? Think again. Beyond just impaling, he slaughtered women and children of his enemies and murdered a group of Turkish envoys on the pretext that they had refused to raise their “hats” to him. Want to know what he did? He nailed their turbans to their heads. Yikes. I will say this for him- he’s got some kickin’ hair.
Now, most of you may not know these next two at all, but I believe they deserve some recognition. The first is Guy Fawkes who, thanks to Alan Moore, is the man behind the face that spawned over a million “V for Vendetta” masks. Brits celebrate “Guy Fawkes Night” every November 5th by burning him in effigy to commemorate his failed attempt to carry out the Gunpowder Plot- a conspiracy which would have resulted in the destruction of the House of Lords. Fawkes was caught, questioned, tortured, and was nearly mutilated (as the Brits so loved to do back then) but he jumped off the platform where the evisceration was to take place and intentionally broke his neck to avoid it. Now that’s hardcore.
Most people do not know the next historian, but you may know of his achievements. Michael Andreas Barclay DeTolly was a hero of the First Patriotic War and Anti-Napoleonic Campaigns in Europe. But what he is best known for is the now famous scorched earth strategy of drawing the enemy deep into one’s own territory and then setting everything the fuck behind them on fire. Let’s think about that for a minute- this dude let one of history’s most aggressive and successful Military Commanders into his own land and then burned his own country to the ground. That’s some Daryl Dixon shit right there.
Yeah, I have no explanation for these last two. Don’t judge me.
So that about wraps it up. Now that my secret is out, I might just have to add a few more to my list. As for the insomnia, if any of you have any remedies out there that are less humiliating, please let me know.
Bear with me while I explain the title of this post. I suffer from bouts of insomnia which leave me with a lot of unstructured time on my hands. This is not a good thing, because I have yet to find a constructive way to fill that time. In other words, I don’t always make healthy choices.
So this opening is not doing much to alleviate doubts about my current mental state or potential guilt. Let me begin again:
My daughter has wanted to become a forensic anthropologist since she was old enough to figure out what one was (or sit through an entire episode of BONES). Last week she told me about an HBO program she saw advertised that she wanted to watch called AUTOPSY. Even though she is a high school freshman, my daughter knows she needs me to screen television shows in order to decide if they are appropriate for her to watch. Luckily for me, my cable provider puts their television shows online, so I propped up my laptop on my nightstand and set out to watch the latest episode of AUTOPSY. That’s when something amazing happened:
I fell asleep.
That’s right- not ten minutes into that show I was coma bound. I woke up about an hour later to find that the episode had played straight through to the end. Not wanting to miss out on a good thing, I “rewound” the episode (my fellow geriatrics know what I mean) and started it from the beginning. You know what happened? I fell asleep again. Even better, I woke up, restarted the program and then fell asleep once more that night, and the following night, and every night for the next three days.
Now, if you’ve
never dealt with ever been tortured by insomnia, starting a show over and over probably sounds like a tedious solution. But if you are like me, someone with whom absolutely no remedy whatsoever has worked, then you understand how something as simple as watching a television show is like God himself reaching down from Heaven and rewiring my brain. It wasn’t a perfect solution and sure, I was a little disturbed over the fact that of all things it was a show about autopsies that soothed my ailing mind. But I wasn’t going to let that get to me. Reaching a judgment about my relative state of mind would be the job of my Xfinity Cable Customer Service Representative.
You see, nothing good can just happen to me because God is dick. Yeah, I said it. God is nothing more than a bored frat kid who elbows his buddy and says, “Dude, watch this shit.” And with a belch of his Jager-stank breath, he commands there be no more AUTOPSY for Hellis. Oh, there’s an AUTOPSY alright, in that the program is available to watch, it’s just that I cannot access it. So I decide to give a different program a try, something edgy and dark and scientific should do the trick, right? Wrong. I watched Doctor Who straight through without so much as a yawn. With that I gave up on television and picked up my phone instead (another bad decision, but that is a topic for another post).
The next morning I called my cable provider and was connected to Chelsea, a sweet southern belle of a customer service representative who was oh so eager to help me. That is until she pulled up my account information and figured out what the problem was. Since a picture is worth a thousand words I’ve included a capture of the screen that accompanied her epic inhale.
What you are seeing is a summary of my viewing history; every day, for four straight days, the same episode of AUTOPSY played through to the end, over, and over, and over again. I’m going to give you a moment to let the reality of what I did sink in, or more importantly, how my obsessive revisiting of the same episode of AUTOPSY like Hannibal Lecter with his favorite trophy ball sack might look to a girl who, with my luck, is probably both a Christian and a psych major.
Chelsea delicately explained to me that because I played the same program through to the end over, and over, and over, that the system “locked” me out of the episode. All I had to do was erase my viewing history and I would be able to watch the episode again. Her voice trembling, she asked if I would like her to do that for me.
Now, I suppose I could have explained to her the completely innocuous reason why this whole misunderstanding came to be, but I just wouldn’t be me if I did. So I said this instead:
“That’s alright, Chelsea. I don’t have to watch it to know how it ends.”
Take that, God.
I never did end up watching that episode or any episode of AUTOPSY, mostly because I was sure my comment was going to get me an unscheduled visit from my local friendly division of the FBI. It all worked out in the end any way, since my daughter is beginning to think she may want to be a writer like me. In fact, she has a blog called LivLovesLit where she reviews books, so if any of you out there would like a young person’s take on your story, just visit her blog. But be warned; just like television, adults screen her emails and books before she gets them so be sure to keep it PG-13.