OK....Seriously.....What Happened to all the Spoons

So last night I had these weird dreams and they were kind of all over the place but one thing I do remember really well is me punching Jay Leno in the face because (a) his new show sucks EXACTLY the same amount of ass as his old show, it’s just on earlier so it’s harder to avoid and (b) that was totally messed up for him to ask Kanye West about his mom and make him cry because I wanted to see D-Bag Kanye, NOT Sad Tortured Kanye, and basically with that one question Jay RUINED my whole Well-at-least-I’m-morally-superior-to-SOMEONE vibe.

When Kanye jumped up on that stage and yanked that microphone from the hands of that poor little crazy-rich country girl (known only to me as “Eat a Sandwich”), he more or less handed me several days’ worth of feeling like I’m NOT the biggest ass on the planet, and I had every intention of channeling that feeling into some kind of big confidence boost while I pimped myself out for a promotion at work. "So Erin, tell me, what would you say are your biggest strengths? Well, I’m definitely NOT the biggest ass on the planet, Dave), but then he had to go on Jay Leno’s crappy new show and be all regretful and apologetic and everything, and THEN freaking JAY had to go and ambush him with that question about his mom, and Kanye just sat there all sad and grief-stricken and DAMMIT I DO NOT WANT TO FEEL SORRY FOR THIS GUY. I’ve always really enjoyed hating Kanye, and the stage-jumping-mic-stealing thing was this awesome excuse to hate him even MORE, but then stupid ass, and completely NOT funny Jay Leno, had to go and make me feel GUILTY for hating KANYE WEST. Dammit.



And now I’m NEVER going to get my promotion. Dammit.

Jay Leno is SUCH a dork.

So in my dream I punched him and stole one of his eleventy-billion cars. What? It’s not like he’d ever miss it.

Also, at some point in this dream I realized that Michael Jordan has been sneaking into my house and stealing my spoons.

Have I mentioned that we’ve lost all our spoons ? Because we have recently. I don’t know how or why but we have about half as many spoons as forks and, inexplicably, a TON of butter knives. I could swear we started out with the same number of them all but maybe we didn’t; I never really paid that much attention to how many spoons we had until we didn’t have any. But now we constantly have to grab dirty spoons out of the dishwasher and *gasp!!* HAND WASH them so we can pretend to be civilized while we dine instead of eating with our fingers or stabbing at our food with one of our hundreds of butter knives.

Every night one of us washes the spoons for dinner and we just look at each other with question marks like “What the heck, dude?” but none of us has any answers, because it’s not as if we’re finding them in weird places, like under the fridge or between the couch cushions or in the backyard or something. They’re just… gone. Disappeared. Vanished. Vaporized. No mas spoonas.

So freakin weird.

The truth is, it took us a while to notice the spoon depletion because we’ve never been too matchy-matchy in the eating tool department — our utensil drawer’s always been a kind of mish-mash of stuff we either started out with or was given to us or we grabbed from the mouths of homeless people or whatever. And now that I’m typing this I’m realizing that probably all of YOU have beautifully shiny matching sets of forks-knives-spoons-etc. and by divulging our “shabby chic” (WE don’t live in squalor – WE’RE “shabby chic”!) approach to silverware, I’m probably also revealing some really devastating deficiency in my psychological makeup or something. You know, like those tests you had to take in high school to determine what kind of career you were most suited to, and they told you there were no wrong answers but later you found out that if the results said you should be a florist that really meant you were TOTALLY MESSED UP IN THE HEAD and should probably be in an institution or something. But you didn’t know that until you compared results with your friends and they were all “FLORIST?!? HA HA YOU FREAKIN' NUT JOB!!” and you were embarrassed and sad and felt like blowing them all away with some kind of automatic weapon but you didn’t because (1) you didn’t actually HAVE an automatic weapon and (2) that would just prove them right. And obviously practicing that kind of self-restraint meant you were NOT a nut job after all and you thought to yourself “See? I’m not crazy! But look how pretty the daffodils” and then you spent all afternoon looking at the pretty daffodils.

Anyway in my dream Michael Jordan was responsible for the Great Spoon Shortage of 2009. After I punched Jay Leno, I drove home really fast in my new car and caught Jordan red-handed, all hunched over in our tiny kitchen with a fistful of spoons. At first he looked embarrassed and started to apologize, but his apology quickly turned into this long speech where he told me what a bitch I was because I never really believed in him, and really I deserved to have my spoons taken away because I couldn’t recognize greatness when it was standing right there in front of me.

And now that I’m typing THIS, I’m realizing that between Kanye West, Michael Jordan and that tool Joe Wilson (who was also in my dream but just on the peripheral, giving cocaine in the corner to a line of Republicans waiting to get high, so he never actually said anything), it’s kind of like someone opened up a big can of Douche Baggery on the entire world recently. What the heck's going on here?

It’s like that book Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, where it rains food for breakfast, lunch and dinner and everybody walks around with their forks (or spoons) in their pockets to catch the stuff as it falls from the sky, but in our case it’s not raining food, it’s raining ASSHOLISHNESS and all the men are catching it right in their mouths.

No spoons required.