dictionary?

It's only recently really occurred to me how many nicknames (or in some cases, codenames) float around my head. People can't make statements about delis or early American history without my mind going all kinds of places.

So I'm going to tell a little story. If you understand half of it, you probably know me too well.

Once upon a time there was a middle name alliteration and there was a flower bird and the flower bird was penduluming with a key. At this point, the middle name alliteration was having dealings with vampires and ice cream.
The flower bird had dilemmas with animals, wheat, and the police. She was backed up (and sometimes sketched out) by bears, dresses, curly and mo. Among others.
Shortly thereafter, there was an Irish person who may or may not have really been irish, and this questionably irish person had dealings with mammals. Homework, backpacks, and highlighters were involved.
Oh, also, stairwells of the legitimate and non-legitimate variety. Sometimes, people couldn't make heads or tails of the issue.
The key turned into a potato. Somewhere after potatoes, the flower bird (sometimes known as P) and the aforementioned were no longer associated.
Then, someone went vegetarian. The vegetarian and the middle-name-alliterator were reunited for a substantial period of time. The vegetarian developed a taste for tofu. Everyone sort of half-wanted to become a breakfast pastry, because the police eat breakfast pastries. But the vegetarian and the middle name alliteration person and mo kept themselves from becoming breakfast pastries, although all of them enjoyed hanging out at the police department.
There was a weather god, too. And a tuna fish that no one liked.
Shortly thereafter, the vegetarian briefly became a breakfast pastry. It was a lapse in judgment but not a totally regrettable one.
Then things started up again. The vegetarian had stopped eating steak, so the vegetarian no longer went to the deli. This was a good thing, because the deli had changed its size of preference, and now steak was only being sold in 8 ounce portions. The vegetarian didn't like such portions of steak. But the vegetarian missed the charming decor of the deli so the vegetarian insisted that it was possible to go to a deli and buy a diet coke. The Irish person was dubious.
Grey areas became very cloudy. They would not be black or white. It was frustrating to everyone involved.
Chocolate ice cream became very seductive to certain types.
The vegetarian realized that eight ounces of diet coke isn't bad. And diet coke is generally a good thing. Except when it makes a vegetarian crave steak. Which would happen, on occasion. Sometimes, when you are a vegetarian, you see an advertisement on TV for some terrible chain restaurant and think "wow, that looks terrible but simultaneously delicious". The vegetarian was also developing a taste for grapes though, because grapes are wonderful fruits.
Mangoes were also deemed wonderful.
Jokes were made about melons.
Life went on as usual.
There was a college search. In said search there were, among others, Williams, Pomona, Princeton, and Community College of the Cayman Islands.
Much was made of a situation involving checkers.
And the vegetarian had another lapse in judgment. The vegetarian sort of wanted tea, because tea is very posh, but there was no tea to be had. But there were vegetables. Vegetables and tea really don't mix.
There were very posh dogs though, and two-way airplane tickets.
Meanwhile, the Aztecs were wreaking havoc on the New World what with their corn farming and sacrificial rites and such. There was a legitimate thought that the Aztecs would end up the predominant culture in the New World. However, a series of events gave the Aztecs smallpox.
Elsewhere, there were cookies served on airplanes, or perhaps the other way around.
Columbus showed up, and didn't find what he expected. The rest of that history has yet to be written but we will see.

Do you understand how hard it is for me to go through a normal day without getting distracted by the multiple meanings of everything?

Love always,
Clara