Curmudgeon Central

Me: I have issues with this song.

Him: Me too.

Me: You go first.

Him: Was it really too much trouble to write a second verse? It's 30 seconds of an interesting story followed by 3 minutes of la la la bullshit.

Me: I hadn't even thought of that. My problems are that a) I am NOT young, therefore this song reminds me of my old age and impending death and b) even when I was young, I'm pretty damn sure my standards for dudes were higher than "willing to carry my drunk-ass home from the bar."

Him: That may very well be why you were single until you were 25.

Me: Point.

A story from my subconscious

(The main character looked like this guy, which is weird, because I don't even find him attractive.)

The Awl surveyed people about their work-related dreams, and I was thinking that I never have writing-related dreams. Then I realized that that totally wasn't true, since I had a doozy of one the other week, possibly fueled by exhaustion and cold medicine.

I dream stories sometimes, either imaginary episodes of tv shows that I watch or narratives made up out of whole cloth. This one started out with a bartender/manager at a popular restaurant in a coastal tourist town. (I think it was supposed to be Martha's Vineyard or Cape Cod, but it totally looked tropical. My subconscious went for the more favorable filming location, I guess.) The restaurant staff was like a big, crazy family and waitresses, bartenders, cooks, and hostesses were always just wandering into the manager's house, eating his food and expecting him to mediate their problems.

But then the elderly, offsite owner of the restaurant decides to sell it! And this was the part when I poked myself into the dream and said, "Wait, I thought that the manager guy owned the restaurant?" And someone else told me, "No, he's like the de facto owner because he's run it for so long. The actual owner lives in Florida or whatever." Yes, that's right: I was getting plot updates from characters in my own dream.

The new owner comes in and tells everyone she really wants to respect the history and traditions of this restaurant that's been around forever and is beloved by locals, visitors, and most of all, its staff. Then of course she goes and strips out all the old decor and repaints the place, all while continuing to be super sweet to everyone's faces. Then she fires the beloved manager. The line I remembered most clearly when I woke up was one of the waitresses saying, "Jesus, she's like a cross between Paula Deen and Sarah Palin."

So the staff plans a revolt, and I either woke up or don't remember what happened next, but I remember being in the dream and feeling gleeful about the mischief that was about to occur. I also remember sitting at the bar in the manager's house talking to two of the waitresses, telling them I was going to write a story about this and they should tell me what they wanted to be called in the fictionalized version of this dream I was having.

I haven't written fiction in years. I like creating characters, but I lack the patience to think of anything for them to actually do with themselves. I think my subconscious was trying to give me a kick in the ass, but again: lazy and impatient. Maybe I can crowdsource. If one of you gives me the rest of the plot; I will write this story. Ok, go!