Posted by: Mark Nielsen | March 28, 2011

This Is Not My Beautiful House

Oddysean journey on Sunday with my nephew Bill in tow to help lug furniture, from WI to IL, then back to WI for another load. The trip home was highlighted by locking myself out of the house, thus necessitating a call to our realtor to come let us in.

Return trip to WI featured a moronic running out of gas incident in Milwaukee, then getting lost soon afterward… All thanks to a highly distracting marathon game of “Screw ’em, Kill ’em, Marry ’em” with Bill. (If you don’t already know the game, don’t ask… At one point I had to kill Lindsay Lohan, screw Hitler, and marry Stalin. Bill was loving it.)

Full 19+ gallon tank of gas in the SUV cost me $69.48, and that is at a price at least .25 lower than Chicago suburb prices.

Arrived at WI about 2:45am Monday. Is this the shape of things to come? As Danny Glover/Detective Murtaugh famously said: “I’m gettin’ too old for this s–t!”

Followed– not surprisingly –by neuro-electric paranoiac nightmares, in the earlier of which lightning struck a tree outside the WI house and fell on it as I slept, taking out half the roof. (Wonder what the buyers will say at Friday’s walk-through?)

This was followed around 9am by a typical “alienation” dream where I am a sort of corporate technospy in Seattle (or was it Monaco?), attending a medical conference with my partner Neal Caffrey (the con-man character from TV’s “White Collar”). He keeps trying to ditch me, though. After a few hours, he does so successfully. Now my new partner — or rendezvous colleague for information — is Tina Fey. (There’s the evil influence of the “Screw ’em, Kill ’em, Marry ’em” — she was one of my marriage partners… An easy choice.) Except she’s not Tina, she’s an android, which I find out after acid foam is dropped on her face by the bad guys, and instead of screaming in pain, she just claws away her fancy latex skin. Then she blows a fuse and shuts down, then reboots. We put a new face on her, then go to the hotel banquet room for the conference’s opening dinner, hoping to re-find Neal. I have the salmon. Neal is nowhere in sight, and I don’t know what my mission is anymore.

If I ever really did…

“This is not my beautiful house. This is not my beautiful wife!… And you may ask yourself: How did I get here?’ ”
-Talking Heads, *Once In a Lifetime*


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