Mark Ruffalo becomes a cowboy midget. Do Women like Short Men?

I read somewhere the no one wants to read about blogs about dreams.  But when I woke up blogging in my head this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep for fear I would forget this dream, I knew you’d want to know about it to.  Dreams are a mixed up collection of all the things we think about during the day, put back in a puzzle piece by piece, in a way that our sleeping mind says makes more sense that it does when we’re awake.

So there was a midget Mark Ruffalo

He was trying to talk to me, but my back hurt from having to bend down so low.  I picked him up and placed him on a table so that we could be at eye level.  He jingled when I picked him up. 

“Why am I so short?” he asked me.  “Will women like me?  Will I ever grow?”

As short as he was, he was also cute.  And I felt sorry for him.  “It might be too late for you to grow anymore,” I said “but some women like short men.  And you are Mark Ruffalo.”

Then it ended and I woke up and knew immediately that this was very important.  A window into my psyche.  Information about Mark Ruffalo’s body image issues that even he doesn’t know he has.  Information about him moonlighting as a cowboy with enough BLING to look like an Elvis impersonator.

And the big question I struggle with daily:  Do women like short men?  Yes and no.  I don’t like someone’s nose in my boobs when they hug me.  Although the Mark Ruffalo cowboy midget was even shorter than that.  But if someone is really nice, height is not really the most important issue.  Then again, if someone is so short that I can pick them up and put them on a table, as handy as that is, I have trouble seeing them as an adult.

Unless of course, you’re Mark Ruffalo.  Then I might take you home and keep you as my pet.

So who says dreams aren’t important enough to blog about?


It’s time for our Semiannual, Biannual, Randomly Annual cause I don’t know how long it’s been LIST OF THINGS PEOPLE SEARCHED TO FIND MY BLOG

 midget autistic mushrooms snope

Very tiny fungus that doesn’t pick up social cues and stares intently at you.  SNOPE!  I don’t know what snope means.  Maybe it’s the sound that the mushrooms make as you walk by in order to get your attention.  (I’m smart enough to google stuff I don’t know and it seems to be an urban legend website, very similar to this one!)

midget + kidnapping

I just like the + sign on this one.  Way to go using searching rules and techniques!

strong midget         

Is a strong midget stronger than a weak tall man?  If I was a midget I would work out and be all buff.  And then I would  be jealous of me and like what’s up  with that midget who looks better than I do?

Kevin Bacon midget

That would be one damn fine midget!  What is this, 6 degrees of midget separation?

Benefits of being a midget

I’m sure there are some benefits, like movie roles or being closer to the ground when they get drunk and fall over.

rectal exam

I feel honored.

sand ceremony lame

If you’ve already decided that the sand ceremony is lame, why are you searching for it? 

quentin midget show channel 31

No idea, but it sounds like fun!

do women like midgets

Like in what way?  I mean, maybe there are some women who have a midget fetish.  Mostly we’re just looking for a nice guy and height is less important than how nice he is.

close up drawing of sleepy midgets

I’m wondering what you’re going to use this picture for.  Something cute or something very very bad.

midgets you can walk on a leash

That’s just wrong.  I hope a pack of wild midgets finds you, ties you up, and beats you with that leash.  I hope it’s a chain one.

look better naked

Wait!  I did write about that!  Obviously I haven’t yet followed my own advice because I am still sneaking around in the dark like a ninja.

midgets never get kidnapped

Why?  Do they have a secret magical anti-kidnapping amulet?  I’m pretty sure midgets get kidnapped just like the rest of us.

hippiemidgets in space

Maybe you meant Muppets In Space, because I love that movie.  Or you want to send all hippies into space to get rid of them.  I don’t know how many hippiemidgets there could possibly be, but there might not be enough to make the trip worthwhile.  However, I am seriously considering changing my blog title.

“peter pan” – rugrats – collar – collars- j

Our new friend J has a weird issue with cartoon characters and stuttering.  But at least he takes responsibility and signs his name.  But I have to ask:  How in the far reaches of deep dark space did J end up here?

My Other Worst Nightmare: Being Stuck in the Same Room with a Stranger Getting a Rectal Exam

Yesterday I was laying on one couch and Nick was resting in his recliner and I turned to him and said “Our life has become boring.  I have nothing to blog about.”

Today I was holding his hand in a room in the E.R., waiting for the results of his bloodwork and for them to bring us to radiology for an ultrasound.   The patient in the bed on the other side of the curtain started to grunt and pant uncomfortably.  I thought he was just being impatient until the nurse said

The bowel movement is close

 More grunting.  The doctor came in and said

We’re going to do a rectal exam.  You might feel some pressure.  I’m going to scoop some of it out. 

And the nurse asked

Do you need to keep some to test it?

And the doctor replied

Yes, it’s crumbly.  Only a trace of blood.  You should be able to push the rest of it out soon.

So there we were, holding hands, and trying not to laugh or puke.  Did they forget that it was a shared room?  I can’t believe it’s good policy to share rooms while scooping poop.  That seems a little personal.

We didn’t notice the smell until we came back from the ultrasound.  I know this conversation is burned into my memory and will be replaying itself for days in my dreams.

At least it will fit in nicely with that dream I had last night about a global disaster and decided to hide in the hills of West Virginia amongst the hillbillies.

Do midgets really work in massage therapy?

Someone googled that and found ME.  Ummmm.  Do you mean do midgets work in that field, like as tiny masseuses?  Or do you mean that midgets are used as part of the massage, kindof like little hot stones place on your back?  I would think a midget on my back would be uncomfortable, especially if it didn’t really want to be there, and it was wiggling around and screaming  “Let me go you FIEND!”

That just doesn’t sound relaxing at all.  It would be like having a kitten on my back.  Or a cactus.  At the same time a midget could just walk around up there and use his strong midget feet,  without being too heavy for me.   I’m sure there’s a midget masseuse out there somewhere. 

And on a completely different tangent, I am pretty pissy today that my healing process is being interrupted because I have to censor myself so much.  Not Cool.  So I think I’ll stop being a coward and continue to do what I’ve done all along.  Be myself, tell my story.  And there you go.  It’s my story from my perspective, not to be used to prove anything.  Not to be used as evidence of anything.  Everyone’s truth is different and I want to put mine on here.

Six Ways to Look Better Naked

MSN has this link on their home page today.  I won’t even give it to you here because I clicked on it and was so DISAPPOINTED that it talked about 6 exercises you can do.  CRAP.

So here’s my SIX WAYS for the rest of us, who just don’t care enough to work out.

1.  Turn the lights off before you even remove your socks.

2.  Steal his glasses and get up before your partner in the morning and leave them somewhere obvious so that he never finds out you took them.

3.  Attempting to suck it in is futile for women, so instead only face him frontwards.  The side view is something to avoid ever letting him see, as the overhang will scare him.

4.  Shake the boobs around to keep his attention from wandering anywhere else.

5.  Practice jumping into bed ahead of time, so that it looks graceful when you tear your clothes off and suddenly reappear under the sheets.

6.  Never fall for MSN’s advice on looking better naked.  It’s not worth the time and energy when you would be better off spending it on commenting on my blog.

Things I wonder about this morning.

Why does this box of Corn Chex say it’s gluten free when there is no gluten in corn, so unless it’s really made of wheat I think it’s probably gluten free just because it’s corn chex?

Why did my kitten come with a book that said I needed 2 litter boxes for every cat and that I should brush his teeth every day, but it didn’t tell me what to do about his constant ninja foot attacks?

Why is it that everytime I cook Gina the perfect egg something happens so that the warm gooey yolk ends up somewhere other than her mouth?

Where did the giant puddle in front of the bathroom sink this morning come from?

Where have all my old friends gone? (This needs a post all its own I think.)

And why did the Oceanic Six have to lie, as the person who set up the fake plane crash in the bottom of the ocean would know that they are alive and that they know he did it, lying or not?

Why is this cat so whiny?

When will the bog in the back yard dry up so that I can rescue my wheelbarrow from the middle of it?

Why is Abrah not receiving my chat?

Abrah did not receive your chat.

The only answer I have is that all the people who search for kidnapped midgets need to know that midgets are feisty little people who can defend themselves just as easily as the rest of us and probably would not be easy to kidnap and trap under the stairs.  I think they all carry pepper spray as well (and if you are a midget and you’re reading this go buy some pepper spray NOW) in case GIANT people become stupid beyond belief and think they can get away with kidnappings just because of some urban legend.

I am writing this because not a day goes by that someone doesn’t end up here because they searched for midget kidnappings. 

For Abrah: Since you stalk my blog every hour. (I didn’t feel like a Midget) and the cutest picture EVER!

I sent my best friend an email hours ago and because she has not replied I’m going to post a revised version of it here because she does read my blog almost every hour.

I couldn’t gchat you because I was trapped in a car with one sleeping teenager, one who was too scared to look out the window, and one who woke up on the whiny side of the bed.

I took the girls for a 5 hour ride up Chief Joseph to Crandall and then over the Beartooth Highway to Red Lodge, Montana and back down the highway from Belfry.  I assumed I’d done this loop before and Nick was like “oh yeah, do that.  It’ll be a nice drive” but then I realized half way up the Beartooths that there was NO WAY I HAD EVER BEEN A PASSENGER in someone’s car on this HELLISH road and that I had NEVER DRIVEN IT MYSELF.  Switchbacks for like 20 + miles and I had to keep stopping because the girls said they were going to puke and were making gagging noises  and high high up, 11,000 feet and no guard rails in some places due to road construction.  I nearly DIED.  Thank goodness there wasn’t much traffic and I could hog the middle of the narrow road.   I wanted to turn around, but it wouldn’t have saved me because going back would have been just as bad!  And I had to finish but it kept getting worse and I would see a huge mountain ahead of us and laugh and point and say “I bet we’re going up there” like that would be the worst joke in the world and then I would see the shiny reflection from a car way up the freaking there and I wanted to crap myself.  And we’d get to the top of that scary ass mountain and see another one ahead with little cars on it.  HOLY FREAKING SHIT.  And the youngest daughter would say “Oh pretty, LOOK!”  or “Stop, you have to see this!” when I was on some tight 20 mile per hour 270 degree turn.    And there were snowbanks at least 5 feet tall by the road.  Coming down the other side was even worse for some reason and I wouldn’t stop at all.  There were nets to hold the rock slides back and I was dodging rocks in the road and it’s hard to swear alot when you feel like vomiting all the time and have to pay attention to sharp corners and rocks as well.   And I almost threw myself over the edge when I saw the 20 mile per hour twisty road sign for 16 more miles.  You should have been there!

 Switchbacks from the top of Chief Joseph


 Bridge at the beginning of the Beartooth Highway


 11,000 Feet


Me at the Top of the World


 We’re going up where?


 Snow at the top 


 Coming Down the Other Side and I’m not stopping!