A peek at the REAL Thumbster

This Just In

Hi adorable Thumbkins,

I just noticed I can't make any restricted journal entries now that my upgraded membership has run out. That WASN'T a hint. I WASN'T fishing for another anonymous upgrade. I'm quite happy being downgraded.

Let's get my whining out of the way so I can get to other stuff...

My screens are taking FOREVER to load. By forever I mean 4 or 5 minutes. That's 4 or 5 minutes each time I go to do anything...and then there's no guarantee the screen I've been waiting for will pop up. I usually get the Page Cannot Be Displayed screen, which means I have to refresh and try again. I'm getting pretty good at trying again...and again and again, but it's still VERY frustrating all the same. I'm now 99% certain my cyber problems are due to a connection problem in my home phoneline...my downstairs phoneline to be precise, but I can't get it seen to at this point in time for I need to make an appointment with the phone repair guy and be here to let him inside. I'll have to wait until things are less hectic. In the meantime I'll just have to muddle through, experiencing the thrill of waiting for screens to load and refreshing them when they don't. Okay, no more whining. You can take your fingers out of your ears now.

I was woken up this morning to the sound of someone knocking at my backdoor. I'm not a morning person. I'm not thrilled about being woken up early on a Saturday morning. Was it you? By the time I rolled out of bed and got dressed they were gone. Oh oh. Is this more whining? I suppose it is. Sorry. I'll try harder. How about a poem break?

Wychommagchee County Slug Sonnet #17

Making his way towards the washroom at the back of the plane
He couldn't help noticing the cute blonde struggling to get the lid off a mayonnaise jar
"Turn, damn you. Turn" She cried clenching her teeth
Moments later, heads turned round and looked down the aisle
when from the washroom was heard
"Flush, damn you. Flush"

I consider myself a fairly insightful kinda guy but I must confess I just don't understand somethings...fanatical terrorism, pms, and that sonnet for starters. I'm not even sure what a sonnet is. A poem of some kind? Aren't they supposed to rhyme? I guess I don't know because I never bothered to find out. Maybe to understand this sonnet, you need to read the previous 1 through 16 slug sonnets. I don't know. It was here in my journal when I logged on today. I wonder if my early morning backdoor knocker had anything to do with it? I don't like the idea of someone leaving slug sonnets in my journal. I wonder who one would report something like this too? Maybe I wrote it in my sleep? To be honest I usually don't know what the Hell I get up to when I sleep. I've heard stories about people sleepwalking and even making sandwiches and driving while asleep. Maybe I write slug sonnets while I sleep?

I was talking with my new friend Sharon, (not to be confused with my other friend Sharon who I've known from Writing.Com for some years), about dreams. Generally speaking, I think dreams are the mind's way of making sense of that day's events and experiences. A big mish mash ball with the good bits filtered out and saved as being relevant. Those bits are stored in our memories and unconscious as something worthwhile. The rest is forgotten.

I'd now like to lay down some ground rules for anyone who dreams about me...

1/ I don't mind appearing in your dreams, in fact I'm quite flattered, but I would like some previous notice beforehand. Please make an appointment to avoid disappointment.

2/ I'm sorry but I only appear in adult female's dreams. I don't care if you are Brad Pitt.

3/ Although I firmly believe there should be NO limits on what you dream about, I would ask that if you dream about me doing wild, kinky kinds of things, that no photos be taken. I have enough trouble being blackmailed for the wild, kinky stuff I do when I'm awake without having to worry about what you have me doing in your dreams.

4/ We can do whatever you like...it's your dream afterall...but I would ask that you return me in the same condition that you found me in. I'm tired of waking up with a mouthful of feathers.

5/ I'm sorry Brad. I said no and I mean it.

6/ I would ask you make special arrangements with me first if you expect your dream to last over fourteen hours long. Spending time with you is GREAT, but I need to spend some time awake as well.

7/ Please don't use your valuable dream time writing slug sonnets in my journal.

8/ There is no number eight. I just didn't want to end on seven.

There. That should do it. I really should have laid out those dream rules long ago.

I know I've sometimes whined about the weather here, what with snowstorms and patches of constant rain, so I thought I'd say something positive for a change. The weather here lately has been absolutely perfect. We've had several days now of absolutely perfect summer weather. Not too hot. Not at all muggy or humid. Nice refeshing summer breezes blowing day and night. The air is filled with the constant sound of bird calls. Gorgeous, glourious summer weather. Beautiful blue skies days and twinking star filled nights. Who could ask for anything more? Thank you God. Well done.

I was updating my personality journal entry yesterday but never expected it to take as much time as it's doing. I'll continue to update it when I can but right now I really must be scooting.

I wonder if my early morning backdoor knocker was Brad? That guy just won't take no for an answer.

Bye for now all you adorable Thumbkins.







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