Half-asleep talk: the Starship Enterprise butter extruder

Ever start talking when you’re not actually awake? Or awake but with one foot firmly standing in dream land?

Cellphone in bed next to Fianceephone…

“Wait! What’s that thing called?” Cellphone interjects suddenly.

“Huh? What thing?” Fianceephone answeres roused from a deep slumber.

“You know, the butter extruder thing?” says Cellphone, picturing some scaffolding with heavy bracing in his mind.

“What butter thing?” Fianceephone asks.

“The butter extruder thing!” says Cellphone, growing imaptient, “The one engineers use!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Harumph! The butter extruder. Okay, picture the bridge of the Starship Enterprise, and Uhura. You know, the thing the engineer needs. The butter thing. Well, okay, ‘butter’ isn’t the right word… Not butter… the thing! You know!”

Cellphone starts randomly gesturing in hope that sharades will help Fianceephone picture the scaffolding with the butter extruder the mechanical engineers need in space.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Fianceephone asks.

“Gah! Nevermind, I’ll explain in the morning.”

FTR, Fianceephone said I really seemed to be fully awake and alert.

That’s hilarious! I don’t think anyone can top that, but once in middle school my mother found me sitting alone in the living room at 3am. She asked me what I was doing, and I muttered something taking care of my little sister, and making sure she didn’t hurt herself with the…you know, the thing. What thing? It’s like a, what do you call it? It’s like a pencil, and when she throws it, it turns into a cup.

I remembered the conversation in the morning, and figured out what word I was looking for. Still didn’t make any sense, though. The word was “cylinder”.

Oh yeah, I remembered another one! I was having a conversation on the phone, and it sounded like I woke him up with the call. I told him I’d talk to him later and let him get back to sleep, and he angrily shouted at me. “I’m not asleep! Jesus Christ!” So we talked for a few minutes, when he interrupted me and said “who the fuck is this?” We had a great laugh about it next time we talked.

You know I am sure there is a lot of imagery that could be analyzed in both these episodes. My recommendation is never under any circumstances do that analysis.

One time, the house phone got left in my room, and somebody called. I leapt out of my bed, and tried to turn my alarm clock off, totally ignoring the phone.

My mother came in, and by this point I had literally picked up the clock and was hammering the “off” button.

She asked what I was doing and I yelled, pissed at the lack of response from the clock.

The phone stopped ringing, and I proceeded to dive back in to bed and promptly fell asleep again. I guess the weirdest part was that SOME part of my brain knew what was going on, since I correctly identified the pieces of the puzzle, but my conclusion was way off.

My freshman-year roomate says he came in late one night, and I immediately sat up in bed and said:

"I’ve Got it Now! The weight of the Floor divided by the Number of People is the Weight of the Rooms!

No, that;'s not right!"

Then I lay down qand went back to sleep. I have no trecollection of this at all

Cheese and butter extruder

This is why I love the intarwebs.

:eek: There is such a thing???

Okay, then explain what that had to do with meeting the engineering requirements for the scaffolding (presumably to be erected in the far reaches of the galaxy).

My co-worker just reported that in the middle of the night once, she woke up pointed at the wall and, in a conspiratory tone, commanded: “Test drive… the tomato.”

I had a college roommate who would relive his (recent) boot camp experience in his sleep. It was a little weird to see him sleeping at port arms softly saying, “Yes Sir!”

Apparently. In fact, my Google-Fu revealed that butter extrusion is a growth industry. Too late for ground floor opportunities – but I’m thinking there are plenty of other things the world wants that could benefit from the extrusion process. I am now going to call my local patent office to discuss the merits of a pie extruder.

Butter is more easily formed into any shape, and there is no gravity in space so you needn’t worry about its need to support weight. Just think of the decorative scaffolding you could build around new constructions. And when you’re done it can be disassembled and used in pie crusts, which will then be filed, baked and then extruded for the dining pleasures of the occupants of said construction.

The circle of life thus completes itself.

Legume, legume
[sub]Yes, I know tomatoes aren’t legumes, but I’m still shoehorning that bastard in there.[/sub]

Shoehorn butterextruder?

I will never forget the morning that, as my alarm was going off (first time, no snooze, I was half awake when it started) Mrs_n8 sat up in the bed, picked up the clock, jerked the cord out of the wall and flung it across the room. She did not believe me the next day and was still skeptical when I showed her the chunk in the drywall across the room.

When I was in high school, I was sitting in the living room late one night talking to my mom when my older brother shot out of his bedroom at a dead run. He went straight into the kitchen and threw open the refrigerator door. When my mom asked him what he was doing, he shouted “The brake drums! The brake drums! I’m looking for the brake drums!” Why they’d be in the fridge is beyond me. He had no recollection of it the next morning and to this day denies that it ever occurred.

I was sleeping over at my best friend’s (since I was 6) house. We’re about… 22. We’re both falling asleep, and I have my back to her. All of a sudden I wake up because she is rubbing my bum and muttering in her sleep.
Me: Dude, what are you doing??
Her: Whaaa…?? Oh…oh…OH!! removes hand from rump Sorry, I was dreaming I was at the nursing home (she worked at one then) and I was comforting someone by rubbing their knee.

FTR I still don’t have “sleep-overs” but I live out of town now.


Ok, I have three:

    • I was lying in bed on my back, sound asleep, and started swatting madly…alarmed, my wife asked, “What is it?!?”
      “Spiders! The spiders are coming out of the ceiling!”
      I then promptly fell back asleep, but she was up most of the rest of the night.
    • Not unlike the first, I had just dozed off and was entering dreamland when I suddenly jumped out of bed, appearing to be completely awake. My once-again-alarmed wife jumped out of bed, too, and yelled, “What is it?!?”
      “A snake! It was right there against my back!!”
      I then crawled back into bed and went to sleep - or whatever, since I apparently was never really awake. My poor wife went and watched TV until the daylight came.
    • I was having a somewhat erotic dream, involving a woman that looked vaguely like the cute little blonde pharmacist I have seen at the drug store on occasion, when I rolled over and started affectionately fondling my wife. Now undertsand, in my dream, I was fondling the pharmacist…
      …after a few moments, I finally woke up enough to actually participate in the sexual activities that had since started, and we both enjoyed ourselves immensely…I confided to my wife what had transpired, since she asked, “So, what started all that?” and she was somewhat amused, albeit not too enthusiastic about the reason for my late-night/early-morning amorous advances. Immediately after telling her this, I more-or-less fell back asleep, but was still in dreamland, dreaming of having finished the encounter with the pharmacist. In my dream, but spoken out loud (to my very awake wife’s ears), I said, “Thank you for coming all this way.”
      Wife, “All what way?”
      “Well, you live all the way down in Overland Park.”
      Wife, “???” Then she had a thought and asked, “So, what is my name?”
      “Hell, I don’t know - I just met you!”

You know, that brings a whole new meaning to Scotty saying,
“Aye! And maybe a wee bit more…!” :eek:

Uhura: Captan we are recieveing a transmission. It seems to be from some kind of intelligent toast.

Captan: Scotty… I need …butter.

Scotty: Aye Cap’n! Ic’n Give ya butter but it’ll take sum doin’.

Captan: Butter Scotty…I…need more butter!

Scotty: I’m givein’ all I got.

Spock: Captan sensors show the toast is 97.46% dry.

Captan: Scotty…if I don’t git more butter soon…we’re not going…to make it.

Scotty: Aye but it’ll take a few minutes wile I build some scaffoldin’ ta hold the extruder.

Bones: It’s too late Captan. We’re goners unless I can get us some Milk.


My GF is one of those people who gets into bed to lie there and glower and resent the fact that she’s not sleepy and has no prospects of falling asleep. I’m one who could crawl into bed and be asleep in 10 minutes and then sleep through an air-raid siren coterminous with a truck full of empty milk bottles overturning its cargo through our kitchen window and lethally impaling the murderous burglars who were climbing in there.

Her revenge is to try to engage me in conversation to keep me awake. We get conversations like this:

GF: I was thinking we should get some extra gifts for your parents, to use as stocking stuffers

AH: Yeah, we could do that <yawn> if you want.

GF: I think they liked what we got them last year. Was last year the year when we gave your mom the glass tree ornaments? Or was that the year before?

AH: I think so too.

GF: You’re not listening, are you? I said, was last year the year when we gave your mom the glass tree ornaments?

AH: Um… might have been, I’m not sure.

GF: So we could maybe do something this year like mantlepiece hooks. I saw some in a catalog and you hang the stocking from them.

AH: Umm hum.

GF: Do you think we should get that, or would that be too similar to the ornaments?

AH: They used them on the bumpers. Chrome was too pretty for the later models, it was a classic.

GF: :confused:

A few friends and I traveled to San Diego to spectate at a college basketball tournament a few years back. Being poor college students, about six of us stayed in a one-bed hotel room. Another dude and myself shared the bed, and the rest passed out on the floor.

With these arrangements, most of us slept pretty lightly. Not the other fella on the bed. Somewhere around 2 a.m., he began mumbling in his sleep, which occasionally gave way to almost violent outbursts.

A few of the tidbits that stick in my mind are:

“FUCKIN’ Michael Jackson, always showin’ up late in his fuckin’ pajamas.”

“Bitches and tickets, I HATE this fuckin’ job.”

(This guy had a part-time job writing parking tickets on campus. He was fired about two weeks later for being too lazy.)

He calmed down after a while. We thought he’d stopped, and the rest of us finally stopped laughing long enough to start dozing. Then, around 5 a.m., the guy sits bolt upright in the bed, and screams:


He didn’t believe a word we said the next morning, but did admit he was dreaming about “some chick I know.” We never did figure out exactly who had rabies.