"Oh yeah. Like a typical woman, you've got something to say. And like a typical man, I won't pay attention. It's simple, it works."

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"Sure you've got a job here... if you wanna work somewhere where you're NOT FUCKING WELCOME."

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Adam DID make Turkish meatballs the night before he said this. He had made some minor adjustments to his mother's recipe and, I must say, they were even better than hers (sorry, Sandy)!

(with a sudden start) "Cock off, spider! Keep your legs to yourself. Stop playing with the shit that comes out of your arse as well. I don't care how sticky it is, I don't go spreading my shit all over the wall. Fucker! OOH!" (slaps my hand lying next to him)

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And here is the reveal. I love this one, that Adam can't quite get over the possibility that there might be a real spider involved. A couple of relevant facts: 1) For the past week, we've had a spider living in our bathroom. We've named him Patrick; 2) Adam and the kids have been feeding the spiders in our garden, tossing dead flies into their webs and watching them wrap them up and suck out their inside bits.

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"I've got some fabulous nail polish for that camel toe."

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Ugh. Nice. For anyone that's lost on this one, you might want to visit this wikipedia page. In fact, everyone should go see it anyway; the absolute earnestness with which it treats this unfortunate condition is priceless.

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"Okay, everybody! Anyone who hasn't eaten, put their arms in the air!... That's not YOUR arm! Stupid fucking zombies."

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"Loving you is an important life lesson. You learn about all the fucking stupid mistakes you make."

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Oh, he's such a romantic!

"I need a human pyramid. And it's got to be a naked human pyramid. No other kind will do."

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"Why the fuck do you have to keep acting like an arsehole? You must have Imitation Bowel Syndrome."

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Oh. Wow. That's just... Wow.

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Don't forget, folks, "crisps" are potato chips around these parts.

"You know, you would be much more fun if you stuck seeds all over your body so I could watch the birds peck you to death."

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Oooh, that WOULD be fun!

I'm not sure how to interpret this next one. Perhaps STM prefers larger women?

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"I will learn the language of the gummy bear. They will be astounded, and they'll have to make me their king. Yeah. King of the gummy bears. Oh, I'll be nice to them… at first. (evil chuckle) At first. Num num num num num num. I'll eat their feet with a lovely carton of Ribena. Num num num num num num..."

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Hmmmm, Silence of the Bears?

Oh, you non-Brits out there, Ribena is black-currant drink. You gernally buy it super concentrated, and add it to water. It's the only thing I drink here!

And then, there was just this:

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"You're always coming back. You're like herpes, or a terminator. No one's looking forward to seeing those again."

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I was baffled when I heard this one. Marrow? Like, the stuff inside bones? How exactly would you threaten someone with that?! It turns out that "marrow" is the UK equivalent of "squash". Here's a marrow:



And, like "squash" in the US, "marrow" is mistakenly thought to refer to only certain members of it's vegetable family, when it actually encompasses tasty things like pumpkins and zucchini as well ("zucchini" has it's own word here, too. It's "courgette").

"It's a story about a pirate, a cyborg, and his terrapin. It's an autobiography. 'Hardback'. It's reviewed very well."

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A literary triumph for shell-backed reptiles everywhere!

And this is a new development: My first sort of conversation with Sleep Talkin' Man, although at the time, I had no idea. Adam sat up quite suddenly, and the following conversation ensued. I assumed he was awake, and was relating to me his dream.

If Adam's final comment leaves you baffled, go watch this.

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"As incredible as me. As spectacular as me. As awesome as me. Oh, the similes are just so limiting. Really."

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Another lovely demonstration of the health of my husband's subconscious. And now, the next installment of STM Meets Jabba The Hut:

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"Well in that case, I need a box of wine, a hand grenade, and 50,000 butterflies. That should do it."

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Anyone care to hypothesize as to what he has in mind here?

"You're one in a million... and I'm second to none. Who's better now, bitch? Hey? Who's better now?"

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And the reveal:

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"Well, there's a driffinbob, and there's another driffinbob. But where's MY driffinbob? Where's MY driffinbob??? Driffinboooooooooob! Come here, driffinbob. COME HERE!... Please?"

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And later, we had these sounds. Perhaps this is the call of the majestic driffinbob?

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"Why pray, when you can Google?"

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Wow, man. That's deeeeeep.

"I will NOT wear my lobster suit and dance in the street. Not even for rhubarb and custard. Go away and leave me alone. My bee costume is waiting. Bzzzzzzzzz."

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And here is how Adam woke himself up:

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"Half the time listening to you, I'm imagining the carnage of pulling out your tongue and wrapping it around your throat."

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Ah, yes, we've all had conversations like that.

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"Hello tree. Hello flower. Hello bee… you wanker."

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Presumably inspired by this delightful Indian summer we're having!

"Since when did the intergalactic cowboy become sheriff in this town? It's MY town! Fuck off, space cowboy, with your plutonium chaps."

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Hmm. Plutonium chaps can NOT be comfortable.

"Mmm. You smell of… Hmm, what is it? Ah, you smell of arse vomit."

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Ugh. I wonder if ass vomit smells anything like vagina chunder? Anyway, things got more palatable after that:

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"Open your mouth once more, and I swear I'll chew your fucking lips off. Try singing show tunes then, dickwad."

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And finally, we have another one of STM's marathon bizarre noise sessions. It's like an alien scatting. Except for that brief little James Cagney impersonation. Anyone else hear that?

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"It's the plum police! The nectarines were never here, okay?"

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Wow. How tiny would those fingers have to be!

"I wrote your life story. It was shit. So I flushed it. And now it's bobbing along with all the other turds. You're a turd. Turdy turdy turd. A turd turtle! Turd. Turd. You're a shit. Turd. Poop! (giggles) I said 'poop'. Poop! Poop... You're a turd."

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My favorite part? Definitely "turd turtle".

Then, around 5:30 am, we had this fascinating conversation:

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"Your training is complete. You may now outrun the alligator."

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"Mustard! Mustard before ketchup. Always after mayonnaise. Get it right, then you've reached perfection."

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"'Sea cow this' and 'sea cow that'. Fucking bastard sea cows taking up all the conversation! It's MY turn to shine."

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Here's what's so great about this one: I've started addressing Sleep Talkin' Man sometimes before we go to sleep. For example, if Adam hasn't talked in his sleep for a few days, I'll say, "Listen, Sleep Talkin' Man in there, I really miss you. Could you please come and visit me tonight?" A few nights ago, I said, apropos of nothing, "Sleep Talkin' Man, I'd really like to hear about manatees, okay?" And this was what came out that very night. Sounds like STM resented my showing interest in any particular subject matter, rather that his mere existence. Awesome.

"So what Jesus is coming. I've been waiting fucking ages, if he doesn't get here soon, I'm out of here. Inconsiderate bastard."

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"Hallelujah! I put the chicken in the vegetarian curry. Praise the bird! Praise the bird!"

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Well, we're back on the vegetarians again! And then there was this:

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And here's the reveal:

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