Why My Flights of Fancy Can’t Get Off the Runway

Sometimes I imagine, when my toe begins to itch in the middle of the night, that I am an international spy who is being tortured for information, and I must resist, at all costs, the urge to give it all up.  I last about 5 seconds.

When my daughter sings the same five words from a song over and over again, I again imagine that I am a spy being tortured – but in this case I have no information to give up.

Sometimes I imagine that I am a gifted singer singing a duet with Adam Levine on my car radio, and that a recording executive happens to be in the car next to me and will do anything to get my name, including executing foolish maneuvers on the road to get my attention.  I am the only one driving insanely.

Conversely, I also like to imagine that I am a horrible singer and that my voice has completely paralyzed the stalker who is crouched in the back of my car.

When I buy a toy for a future birthday/holiday, etc… and hide it in my closet, I imagine a family member discovering it after I’ve died from a tragic accident (perhaps when the recording executive cut me off in his zeal to sign me to a record contract) and crying hysterically over my thoughtfulness.

When I fling a piece of laundry into the closet, missing the hamper, I imagine a family member discovering bits of lingerie and various stages of embarrassing fat pants  in the nooks and crannies of my closet after I’ve died from a ridiculous freak accident (like jumping in front of a recording executive’s car so he would sign me to a record contract) and posting the evidence of my slovenliness on FaceBook.

I don’t use FaceBook.  One reason is that whenever I imagine myself as a famous dead author, I worry that people will hunt down my Facebook posts and invent elaborate explanations of my writing from the seemingly boring pictures of my mundane existence.

Another Reason Not to Use Facebook - It Makes it Harder to Be an Undercover Spy

Whenever I reflect on my prosaic life story, I imagine that I would make a great spy because seemingly boring people are perfect undercover operatives.

Then I try to go to sleep and my toe begins to itch.

Note to self:  Do NOT EVER AGAIN Look Up “Big Toe” on Google Images.  Gross!!!!!!

photo credit: <a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/7876912@N07/6439755299/”>bubjay</a&gt; via <a href=”http://photopin.com”>photopin</a&gt; <a href=”http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/”>cc</a&gt;

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Posted on January 20, 2012, in Humor, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 27 Comments.

  1. I hope that when I die – courageously, from consumption – one of the agents who asked for the full manuscript of my novel, but ultimately rejected it, will see uplifting story of my life on the front page (I’ll accept page 2) of the New York Times, and get out my manuscript and have publishers lined up to publish it, and then I’ll be in the NYT again, this time on the bestseller list. And my novel will be made into a movie. And by that time Angelina Jolie will be just old enough to play me (or rather, the protagonist in my novel who is a lot like me, but prettier).

  2. Of course, if you had spy training, you could make the record exec stop without killing you. And force him into signing the contract.

    And no, I am not googling big toe.

  3. My spy outfit would be almost the same as the one in your photo, except with some splashes of color to personalize it. This would of course make it difficult to blend in… maybe I won’t be a spy either.

  4. Imagination will get you in trouble every time…at least, I imagine it would. 😉

  5. coo! I would love to be a spy looking like that….what a great time I would have but I guess I shall just have to go on wishing

  6. Famous last words not spoken by spies:
    “Do you expect me to talk?”
    “No, Mr. Bond! I expect you to die!”
    “Oh well, in that case, do you mind if I scratch my big toe first?”
    🙂

  7. You have the most unusual thoughts! I love them! 🙂

  8. hehehe.. when I am trying to hold difficult yoga poses, I imagine that I am Atlas, keeping the sky from collapsing on the earth. I always apologize to the earth when I give up. Some day, I will be able to keep the sky off the earth for more than 2 minutes… that’s what I tell myself anyway.

  9. i “ditto” the imagine the after death of “notquiteold.” i, too, will no doubt die by consumption, but gracefully.

  10. I’d like to hug your imagination.

  11. I love your posts. You’re hilarious.

  12. Nobody’s going to find anything in your closet. Well, shreds maybe – because Wonderbutt got in there first.

  13. Hi!
    As always a great post! Last time I looked up something you mentioned… well let me say I am not looking up big toe.. it can remain a mystery! LOL

    Keep up the wonderful; posts!

    Lots of Collies Hugs,

    The Collies and Chuck 🙂

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