My subconscious has gone AWOL


An arsehole. Image

Brain:    Good morning!

Me:        Ugh.

Brain:    What?

Me:        Why did you have to give me those dreams last night?

Brain:    Which ones? The one about the wedding, or the one about the unicorn?

Me:        You gave me dreams about weddings and unicorns?!

Brain:    Errrrm… No?

Me:        *side eye*

Brain:    That’s physically impossible.

Me:        I know; that’s why I’m telling you I’m doing it. Because I can’t actually look at you.

Brain:    Right.

Me:        You gave me this stupid dream where I was trying to convince a man to get back in contact with his young daughter. Every time I almost got them back together, something happened to ruin it.

Brain:    Yup.

Me:        So what was your point?

Brain:    I don’t understand dreams, I just give them to you.

Me:        Isn’t a dream supposed to be my subconscious trying to tell me things?

Brain:    Sure. But the subconscious isn’t here right now to answer your questions.

Me:        Where is it?

Brain:    I don’t know. I’m not your subconscious’ keeper, you know.

Me:        …

Brain:    …

Me:        Actually you quite literally are.

Brain:    …

Me:        Can you please take a message then?

Brain:    Sure, why not!?

Me:        Gee thanks.

Brain:    You’re welcome!

Me:        So there I was dreaming a confusing dream about a dude and his daughter, when you gave me a nightmare.

Brain:    I would never do that!

Me:        Liar. You did give me a nightmare. You made me dream about SHOPPING FOR CLOTHES. You bastard.

Brain:    That doesn’t sound like me. That was definitely your subconscious.

Me:        You made me dream about shopping for clothes AND IT WAS HORRIBLE.

Brain:    I wondered why you woke up sweating.

Me:        Why do you hate me?

Brain:    I don’t hate you. Maybe your subconscious hates you.

Me:        Well then please pass that message on to my subconscious when it comes back from wherever the hell it’s gone.

Brain:    You’re asking me to tell your subconscious that you hate it? That doesn’t sound healthy to me.

Me:        You started it.

Brain:    Your subconscious started it.

Me:        Bastard.

Brain:    That’s not very nice.

Me:        Arsehole.

Brain:    You seem to be a bit confused about anatomy.

Me:        Ugh.

Does your brain hate you too?

I’m linking up with Laugh Link again this week. Click on the button below to read some hilarious bits of bloggery. I dare you.


Conversations with my brain – ain’t nobody got time for that


My brain is a mental arsehole, and I ain’t got time for that.

Brain:      SHIT!
Me:         What?!
Brain:      I can’t remember whether I left the oven on.
Me:         I’m sure I turned it off.
Brain:      How can you be sure?!
Me:         I always turn it off.

Me:         Wow she’s great. I wish I was her. As I was saying, I’m sure I did turn it off… I think.

Me:         Shit.
Brain:      See? You’re not sure. YOU LEFT THE OVEN ON AND NOW THE HOUSE WILL BURN DOWN AND WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! Or maybe get bronchitis.
Me:         It’s 2am and I don’t want to get out of bed.
Brain:      What part of ALL GOING TO DIE don’t you understand?
Me:         Damnit. It’s cold. And it’s dark.
Brain:      ALL. GOING. TO. DIE.
Me:         I won’t be able to go back to sleep.
Brain:      ALL… GOING…
Me:         OK, OK, I’m getting up. Fascist.

Me:         I was right. It’s 2am, cold and dark and I didn’t leave the oven on.
Brain:      Really?
Me:         Yes.
Brain:      Are you sure?
Me:         Yes. I think so. I just checked.
Brain:      Were you paying attention when you did it, or were you thinking about how cold and dark it was instead?
Me:         I’m pretty sure I checked it.
Brain:      ALL… GOING… TO…
Me:         I hate you.
Brain:      …DIE.

I wish I was more like Sweet Brown. Her brain wouldn’t dare be an arsehole.

Is your brain an arsehole?

Conversations with my brain: And then my Basal Ganglia went on strike

Never. Ever.

Brain: Hi there.

Me: Hi Brain.

Brain: I heard you swear last night.

Me: I stubbed my toe. Too fucking right I swore.

Basal Ganglia: Excuse me. I think that was my fault.

Amygdala: No actually it was really my fault.

Brain: I think it happens when my upper and lower functions conflict. You know, language and emotion.

Me: Fuck me, how many of you guys are in there in my skull?!

(A lot of muttering).

Amygdala: You don’t want to know. But we’ve taken a vote and we’d you to stop smacking your head on the keyboard. And wearing tight hairbands.

Me: O… K…

Amygdala: It was my fault you swore when you stubbed your toe. I’m the part of your Limbic System that creates the fight or flight response.

Me: What the fuck is the Limbic System?

Basal Ganglia: Allow me, Amygdala. The Limbic System controls basic movement, memory and emotions.

Amygdala: And the Basal Ganglia manages impulse control and motor function.

Me: Oh really? So it was your fault I stubbed my toe in the first place.

Amygdala: Well, maybe, but moving right along. I’m always on the alert for when you hurt yourself.

Basal Ganglia: And then I step in and make you swear. I’m a bit of a hero, really.

Amygdala: I take that as the signal to throw you into your “fight” mode. We all gang up and flood your system with chemicals like adrenalin so you feel less pain.

Me: So swearing helps me feel less pain?

Basal Ganglia: Exactly. If you over-use swearing, though, the effects wear off.

Me: I find swearing useful when I’m not in pain, too.

Basal Ganglia: I know. We’ve been listening to you.

Me: Don’t judge me, or those hairbands are only gonna get tighter, pal.

Basal Ganglia: You swear a lot. We get tired of having to work for you, you know.

Me: If swearing kicks me into “fight” mode, maybe I like that feeling. So when I want to add some strength and force to what I’m expressing, swearing works for me. But you’re always here controlling my impulse to over-swear, right?

Basal Ganglia: Well… not always…

Me: Come on, without you guys I’m just so much pointless flesh and bone. You’re the ones in charge, right?

Basal Ganglia: I think you’re putting us under too much pressure. There’s only so much we can take.

Me: I see everything clearly now. I wish you’d pay more attention to impulse control when I’ve swallowed most of a bottle of red but can still drive a keyboard and remember my credit card number.

Basal Ganglia: Do you seriously expect me to be controlling what you do 24 hours a day?

Me: Er… Yeah… isn’t that what you’re for? Isn’t that your job?

Basal Ganglia: Listen, mate, don’t oppress me. We brain regions have rights, you know. We do this work for you all the time and we don’t even get paid. Not one cent. I’m going on strike if we don’t get some time off!

Me: Well, tell me which one of you guys I can blame for insomnia and we can get that sorted out right now.

Amygdala: Right, who’s seen the Pineal Gland? Anyone? Hello?

(Crickets chirping). 

Me: Exactly.

My Basal Ganglia disagrees.
It’s absolutely necessary.


Did you know swearing serves a physiological purpose? 

How do you feel about swearing?