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Sometimes what I write and what I mean to write are diametrically opposed... like, when Ambien is involved.

Now, a quick caveat before someone signs me up for the Betty Ford Center - the Ambien stories are few and far between. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I take my pill, read my book, possibly eat a piece of cheese, and then fall asleep, exactly as God and Sanofi-Aventis intended.

It's only about one percent of the time that anything happens, e.g. ordering Barbie heads, skinny jeans, or seatbelt extenders. And the odd reaction is usually the result of either being dehydrated or not having consumed enough protein during the day.


Last night, I was the one percent.

To backtrack, I had guests up here this weekend. One of my friends mentioned first how her dentist doesn't do teeth whitening and then later that her dermatologist doesn't perform cosmetic procedures. As I am nothing if not business-minded, this made me twitchy. I kept exclaiming, "Your doctors are leaving money on the table!"

(Note: no one else seemed bothered.)

Such was the extent that the doctors' lack of entrepreneurial spirit bothered me, I kept thinking about business-type ideas after my friends left. I would look at the most basic of household items and then come up with suggestions on how one might profit from it. For example, I happened to be cleaning out the fridge when I came across a bunch of little tubs of ranch dressing left over from a packaged salad that accidentally froze and I thought, Ah, yes.. there's an idea here.

So I began to figure out how one might monetize ranch dressing. I came up an "I'd dip that in ranch!" campaign, envisioning it as a Stuff White People Like-type tumblr. Every day I'd feature some beautifully photographed item that would be made more delicious when dipped in ranch dressing, e.g French fries or grilled cheese sandwiches. Seriously, name almost anything and it would taste better dipped in ranch. Like, a stalk of broccoli is nice, but dipped in ranch? It's a treat worthy of a dinner party! But I'd make each entry funny, like one day showing a shot of Channing Tatum, because, come on, ladies.

Channing Tatum dipped in ranch?


Then I pictured said website becoming a cult favorite and all of a sudden Big Dressing comes a-calling and offers to buy the whole thing for a check containing many zeroes.


(FYI, Fletch thought this idea was dumb, particularly the Channing Tatum part.)

(Fletch is not a visionary.)

Yet I cracked myself up about this the whole night and at random intervals, I'd shout, "I'd dip that in ranch!" to the point that Fletch went upstairs to watch Falling Skies by himself. (He said he was going to anyway.)

I kicked the phrase around so much that it actually began to morph into an idea for a television pilot - I envisioned a couple of best friends who adore each other but are polar opposites, yet circumstances force them to live together. I'm talking The Odd Couple meets Two Broke Girls only less Tony Randall and fewer graphic discussions of ones downstairs ladyparts.

(By fewer, I mean none.)

Somehow they'd come together in this pilot and all the action would turn because of the one roommate's passion for trying to make the "I'd Dip That in Ranch!" website happen. They'd end up fleeing from corporate America to run a food truck and would have hilarious and delightful misunderstandings in the neighborhood and with one another.

I'm not kidding you, I would watch this.

I would.

I mean it.

Oh, come on.

It's not the worst idea in the world.

(Cavemen, anyone?)

So, I knew I was seeing Stacey for lunch today and I made a mental note to mention it to her.

Then I took my Ambien.

That's when my silly little idea began to take on epic proportions. I figured I'd best get this down on paper before anyone stole it from me or did it first, so I grabbed my iPad and wrote Stacey the following:

Okay,do not let my Ambien buzz dissuade you for the badness poroporotins i'mma put I from of you to tomorrow with out new pilot we're writing based Ion the nicotine "I'd dip that in ranch!". See, yiu're an uptight felix foodie and I'm your bestie Oscar who just lost her house and has to move I wit tiy. We clash over our differences but bond ove the one. Niversal truth - evening tasted better dipped in ranch.


Friend pickles in ranch!

Freshu veg with ranch!

French friens with ranch!

And we ciudk go to town with a food truth and lake stander shy try all out four shit with ranch and theync'd be all RANCH RANCH YES YKU ARE GIRL GENUSISES



We ciudk trademt k "I'd dip that in ranch' and the sell to the hidden valley consortium for ALL OF the THINGS


All UR buttermilk are belong to us!

pS copied fletch o case he needs to ruthis past the lawyers land accountants and they keepers of the RWNCH


See YIU tomotto!!! For good measure, I also tweeted her:

@staceyballis - checch your email for brilliant Ambien bindersest plan! He who controls The RANCH CONTROLS HE WORLD,!!

I particularly like how I misspelled/autocorrected everything except for the "Hidden Valley Consortium."

Anyway, I had lunch with Stacey today.

The bad news is she's probably not going to work on this pilot with me.

I guess she doesn't want meeelions and meeelions of dollars.

However, I'm pretty sure she's going to write up the incident in her own words, like the whole drapes thing a few years ago.

Also, I dipped my fries in Thousand Island today. Not quite as good as ranch. But not bad, either.

You know, I bet I could make something happen here from a business perspective...

Thousand Island Dressing Is the New Ranch.


You heard it here first.

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