July 21st, 2009
This morning I woke up with Bellatrix Lestrange hair.
This is possibly because of the insane set of dreams I had. First, I was messing with a live jellyfish that was sitting on my parents’ kitchen table on a little pedestal. I was squeezing it, and trying to turn it inside out (like a Popple–remember Popples?), and playing with the tentacles…all in good fun, but due to its ‘still living’ status, it was not so happy, and proceeded to take one bite out of each of the chocolates that lay scattered around it on the table. Did you know that pink, melon-shaped jellyfish like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups? Well, now you do. (That bastard jellyfish…it knew that I wouldn’t eat the rest of the chocolate after it had sampled a bite from each…ewwww.) Read the rest of this entry »
July 26th, 2008
I just had a dream wherein I’d programmed the iPhone (in my sleep, according to the dream) to turn movies into a format where the dialogue was normal, except any questions asked and answers given were all in rude, cockney accents:
“I’ll see you later, Sweetie!”
“Okay, honey, bye!”
“Hang on, are ya bringin’ the food with ya, ya daft bah-stard??”
“Nah, ya dumb wench, I’m leavin’ it ‘ere!”
“Okay, love you!”
“See you soon!”
June 27th, 2008
So, I had this nectarine. I could smell it five feet away. It was SEDUCING me with its aroma. So what did I do? I brought it to work to eat, and as of the first bite, I discovered to my massive disappointment that it wasn’t ripe enough. Its three companions had been ripe, and mouth-wateringly amazing, so what gives? And you know you can’t go back after the first bite of an unripe fruit. If you leave it alone again, the rest of the fruit will ripen as the bitten part quietly rots, mocking you with its oxidization.
May 7th, 2008
I want a mural depicting Bill Clinton, arms outstretched, blessing the masses with free pedometers.
May 3rd, 2008
So, at this large intersection near where we live, there are two bums. One lives on one median, and the other one lives on the other. One is clearly installed there: there are blankets and lumps of stuff and milk crates galore, and he sits there, day after day, smoking through his big, curly, yellowish beard, accepting tips. The other bum is not always on his median, but when he is, you can catch his performance of bending over slowly, more and more, till you think he’s perhaps fallen asleep on his feet and he’ll fall on his face any second, when he rears up suddenly, ready to start the whole process again in about five minutes. He thinks that this, for some reason, will make him money. Read the rest of this entry »