FSM Over my table
The other night I had a very difficult time sleeping. I had the kind of sleep where you’re not quite sure if you’re awake or asleep. I kept having visions of volcanoes. I was scared at first, but as I got closer to one volcano, I caught the scent of hops and barley. I know dreams can be weird, but this takes the cake: I saw beer coming out of the volcano! I dipped a hand into one of the flows, and sipped the most amazing India Pale Ale. I went to another flow, and got a taste of a dopplebock, and another was an imperial stout.
Just when I thought the dream couldn’t get any weirder, I crested a ridge on the side of a volcano, and saw a gleaming factory of some sort. Was it a beer factory that was pumping all the beer out of the volcano? No. As I got closer, I could see beautiful women coming out of the factory, each scantily clad, and apparently dancing for my sole enjoyment.
And then I woke up. I didn’t want to wake up, but I did anyway. With the visions of my dream still dancing in my head, I meandered downstairs to get a mug of warm milk. When I drearily passed through my dining room, I was touched on the arm by this:
At first I had no idea what it was, other than a very interesting balloon sculpture. Could it have been related to my dream? How did it get in my dining room? Why did it need fishing string to elevate itself? Extensive searching on the web leads me to believe that the dream and the sculpture are related to some wondrous deity called the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I think I can now officially say that I’ve been touched by his noodly appendage.
