Scumbag Brain

Dear Brain,

I think it’s time that you and I had a little chat about how you’re performing in your duties.

I understand that things have been a bit tricky recently, what with the stress of moving and finding a job. I’m not an unreasonable person and I’ve been perfectly willing to make allowances for you at times when your focus has been elsewhere. Remember how a few weeks ago you forgot to mention the fact that it was mine and boyfriend’s four year anniversary? Now you may say that I shouldn’t need reminding of such an important event. Fair point, but seeing as YOU ARE MY BRAIN, reminding me of important facts is actually a pretty major part of your job.

See, even Sheldon agrees that's poor form.

See, even Sheldon agrees that’s poor form.

However, I know that you’ve got a lot on your plate at the moment so I was prepared to over-look this little incident . I thought ‘Hey, times are tough. Cut brain some slack, he’s having a rough few days’ (oh yeah, you’re male by the way. Who knew?).

However, when you decide to repay my sympathy and leniency by abusing your power, that is when I draw the line.

As you will recall, last night (13th October 2013) I was treated to a wonderful dream where I had amazing seats to see Biffy Clyro. This was such a wonderful surprise and I was chuffed that you remembered they are my favourite band. After an evening  of rocking out to some amazing tunes (although in the cold light of day it seems more and more like the band were having a ten second joint epileptic fit. We’ll talk about that later…) the gig ended and we made our way outside.

It was at this point that I spotted Simon Neil sneaking off into a hotel. From this moment onwards I have issues with what you believe should be the logical version of events.

I gambolled off after him in a fashion I imagine similar to that of a giraffe who’s been sitting cross-legged for too long and now has four dead legs.

'Cool, look at this beautiful pea...OH MY GOD, IS THAT SIMON NEIL!!???'

‘Cool, look at this beautiful pea…OH MY GOD, IS THAT SIMON NEIL!!???’

Limbs a-flailing, I managed to barge my way past hotel security who seemed scared off by the rabid, manic look in my eye as I screamed ‘SIMON! SIMOOOOOOOOONN!!!!!!!!!!!’ at the top of my lungs. (Is this shambling, frenzied caricature really how you view me? If so I’m deeply hurt)

Once I’d literally clawed my way through the guards, I found myself panting in a half-crouched animalistic position in the middle of the foyer. Meanwhile, a bemused and slightly terrified Simon Neil tried to sink as far as possible into the leather sofa he was sitting on in an attempt to hide from my clutches. It was too late, I had him in my sights.

THERE'S NO ESCAPE

THERE’S NO ESCAPE

I scuttled over mumbling ‘Simon?Simon?Simon?Simon?Simon?’ just in case he hadn’t realised I was indeed coming for him. The closer I crept, the more clearly could I see the look of horror in his eyes as he realised there was no escape.

Now that I had him trapped where I wanted him, out poured the torrent of fan-girl slush.

‘HiSimoni’mamassivefanofyourmusicisufferfromdepressionandyoursongshavereallyhelpedmethroughsomehorribletimes’.

He gave me sort of half smile and responded with a grunt, obviously a clear indication that I should continue in my outpourings.

‘myboyfriendactuallyproposedtomeduringyoursongmountainsatoneofyourgigssoyoursongsmeansomuchtome’.

He didn’t respond and so I took this to mean he didn’t quite get it.

YOuR SoNgS MEaN SO MucH TO MEEEEeEEEeEE!!!!!’ I wailed banshee like directly into his face whilst shaking him by the shoulders.

Brain, just what the hell where you playing at all this time? Were you on drugs? Did you go outside for a coffee break or something? What on earth do you think of me if THIS is what you think should happen if I ever happen to glimpse Simon Neil? Is this some kind of sick joke? They’re my dreams for Christ’s sake, there are supposed to be infinite possibilities! It’s where I’m supposed to go to act out fantasies of being a super hero or a world famous purple rockstar unicorn. But no, forcing me to experience the soul-crushing embarrassment of not only fan girling out at Simon Neil but putting him in actual fear of his life was what you had in store for me. This is NOT cool.

Mercifully at this point, boyfriend woke me up to say goodbye as he left for work. Bleary-eyed, I blinked up at him and croaked ‘I met Simon Neil’. His first response –‘Did you have sex with him?’

SEE BRAIN! EVEN MY BOYFRIEND WOULD BE BETTER AT YOUR JOB THAN YOU!!!

The thing is, this isn’t even your first offense of dream hacking. It’s becoming a reoccurring offense.

Having a dream where I’m finally getting my own back on primary school bully by making him face up to his true self? WRONG– my bra and shirt have suddenly melted away and now the bully is sniggering as I try to hide my naked breasts.

Dreaming about a nice family meal at home? WRONG– release the man-eating panthers!

Having a horrible nightmare when sister comes to the rescue with a loving hug? WRONG –I suddenly become the incredible Hulk and snap her neck with the brute force of my cuddle power!

Happily dreaming about getting married to the boyfriend? WRONG –let’s melt his face off with fire!

FFS brain, really???

FFS brain, really???

This kind of behaviour not only extremely unprofessional but also unacceptable. Consider this letter as a formal written warning. Unless your performance drastically improves, I will be forced to take disciplinary action.

Regards,

Anxiety Girl

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About Universally Challenged

Just your average 80's child surviving depression through love, life and Quidditch.
This entry was posted in Humour, Mental Health and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Scumbag Brain

  1. Pingback: Things I wish I’d never done Part 1 – Commando Bikes! | Universally Challenged

  2. Pingback: Time And Relative Dimensions In Sleep | Universally Challenged

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