dreams are so fucked up

my dreams last night were so fucked up that i didn't remember them right away. usually i remember my dream vivedly and then it fades a little at a time until it's gone. that's why i tell everyone -- to keep the dream alive, man. but these ones i remembered now and i've been up for 15 minutes and i didn't want to lose it, so i'm writing it in here:

my brother and sister (14 and 12 respectively) were left home alone and had a party. this wierd girl (i think her name was brooke, because that's the girl that my sister fights with that lives down the street) came and was shooting everyone and i had stopped by and she shot me, but i wouldn't die so she kept trying to kill me. my brother and sister had hidden somewhere, because they were fine, but i kept getting shot. finally she thought i was dead (i had about 25 bullets and a board with rusty nails in me) and went on to killing my sister's friends when i got up and killed her and started pulling the bullets out of me. they weren't bullets but more like those fat wooden dowels that they give you to solidify bookcases when you're building them, and they sounded like suction cups. so after i killed brooke i started looking for survivors and then i helped ian and jamie put the house back together and they had had a fire in the living room but mom knew about that so they were going to repaint when she got home but we had to clean up all the dead bodies. it was strange.

my second dream i was not me; i was this guy and i was trying to save this chick but we had to keep going from one place to another to save her and find another person that was trying to kill her -- it was like a video game. make sure no one's near, change rooms -- in a couple big hotel type things. and one of her friends kept coming on to me, but i think it was to get back at the first girl and kept wanting me to hae sex with her. so girl b made me feel bad (remember, i'm a guy in this dream) so i jump her on the balcony and then the first girl got mad and left, but i was trying to protect her so i had to go after her and then the second girl got mad at me ... it was a huge mess. no more late nights critiquing porn stars with jordan online.

mcd's smelled like an unwashed vagina ...

that maybe had a touch of syphillis or something. i went there a few days ago for lunch when i didn't feel like driving all the way to wendy's. i hadn't been there in more than a month. i don't think i'll go back. of course, i always say that and then i get lazy and it's next door to OD so i end up there. never again, though, you hear me? hehe. a plain junior bacon cheeseburger and a large frostie is good for me, thank you.

christen is playing san andreas. this leads me to my links over there on the left. see the one that says pencopal's somethingorother? she has a funny entry that is a bit true about the lengths women everywhere will have to go through to get their boyfriends attention during the next few months. i think i need to take a trip to the lingerie shop soon, even though christen says it's a waste to spend so much money on something that will only be on me for a matter of minutes, and may get torn in the process.

i've had a severe migrane all day today. last night i had a bad headache when i went to bed, but i thought it was just because i had been staring at the computer for so long. my headaches don't usually turn into anything, they just go away when i sleep. but this time when i woke up to take my car to the paint place i had a full fledged migrane (and no pills, because my script is expired and it takes me three months to get into my doctor's office). i went anyhow, and came home around 9 and slept till 1. migrane still there. i laid around and watched dogville (crap, don't see it) and jersey girl (which i bought, kevin smith is great). when christen got home he took me back to best buy to exchange eternal sunshine (last night i accidentally got the full frame instead of widescreen) and to get chinese food and then it was home again. tomorrow we have to go pick up my car and i work the closing shift. blah.

well, i'm not interesting tonight. check out those other blogs on the left. maybe they have something interesting to say -- i wouldn't have put them up if they aren't somewhat witty.

ivan had me take this quiz. there are some sick fucks out there. but it was fun. take it!

Your Ultimate Purity Score Is...
Category	Your Score	Average
Self-Lovin'	56.7% Explored the pleasures of the flesh	65.1%
Shamelessness	61.9% It takes a couple of drinks	79.3%
Sex Drive	44.7% I got needs, baby, you gotta unnastan'!	77.7%
Straightness	8.9% Knows the other body type like a map	44.7%
Gayness	85.7% Repressed, are we?	83.7%
Fucking Sick	89.4% Refreshingly normal	90%
You are 60.36% pure Average Score: 72.7%
Take The Ultimate Purity Test and see how you match up!

"W" stands for women? i thought it stood for "war" and "waste"

shell had a costume party last night. partying as:

me -- rennaissance gal. i was in full accoutrements, and breasts popping every which way.

christen -- we glued big red horns to his head and bloodied them up. he was ... a guy with horns on his forehead.

tracy -- an inflatable pumpkin. there was a fan on his ass.

dave -- death (with white reboks)

rab -- rab

trudimon/chudimon/pokemon -- ... herself.

shell -- hostess. she wore an apron and heels (yes, and regular clothing.)

richard -- chef. his proper outback-chef attire was worn.

we had a grand time, and the food was delicious (as it should be, since richard cooked) -- there were ribs that he cooked for 6 hours, orange pudding, pumpkin ice cream, baked mac & cheese (a la me with black noodles and extra orangy cheese thanks to the rolling pin's food coloring) cookies, and french dip (which shell would only serve if we called it french dick). jim didn't end up going, which i thought was pretty dick because he rsvp'd and didn't call or email or answer his phone when they called. i hope he had a good reason. i was nervous about seeing him in a social situation, especially with christen with me, but i would have at least let shell know if i was backing out. i made it though, and i was even on time.

i wanted to copy and paste kevin walker's column from today because i agree with it so wholeheartedly, so i'm going to leave it in non-bold. if you don't want to read, just move down to the bolded writing again. http://rail.tbo.com

We Understand Your Need For It To Be Nov. 3

If I had power over time, I can tell you what I would do.

Of course, it's tempting to clean up the past, isn't it? I could always go back and:

‰ Ask that other girl to the prom.

‰ Say something charming or clever when the situation called for it, rather than sitting there like a moron (this could take years).

‰ Stop myself from buying that Daihatsu (don't ask).

‰ Place a bet on the Boston Red Sox to make the World Series the day after the New York Yankees took a 3-0 lead in the American League Championship Series.

Hmm. That'd be nice. But, no, let the past be the past.

What I would do is wave my magic time wand to move us all forward to Nov. 3, because, man, it cannot get here fast enough.

I cannot remember when an election season was more in our faces, the television commercials more annoying, the signs more prevalent, the shouting any louder. I'm beginning to see ""swing state'' maps in my dreams.

If people aren't talking about the election around the office, then there is a heated e-mail debate going on with family members. And usually it's both.

The campaign television spots come on so often that, now, just for fun, I listen for the buzzwords: liberal, taxes, family values, strong, leadership, proud. Also ""understands,'' as in: ""John Smith understands your needs and will work to fulfill them all, no matter what it takes. John Smith understands. He understands you.''

It's also interesting to listen to phrases meant to stoke fear concerning the other candidate. As in: ""If you vote for that other guy, your city will be left in smoking ruins.''

And so on.

I also am getting far too many phone calls where someone in a recorded message tells me how I should vote. By ""far too many,'' I mean more than one.

CROSS THIS: Interesting moment a couple of weeks ago on ""Crossfire,'' the idiotic ... oh, wait. I am sorry. I meant informative. The informative talk show on CNN.

""The Daily Show'' host Jon Stewart was the guest. ""Crossfire'' hosts Paul Begala (from the left!) and Tucker Carlson (from the right!) expected Stewart to be Mr. Funny Man. Instead, he attacked ""Crossfire'' as nothing more than party spin masked as debate.

You can find the segment by going to Google and entering ""Jon Stewart Crossfire.'' You will find plenty of places to see the video clip.

and here's where the bolded words start again, but i've nothing more to say. shocker, eh? it'll come to me later.

i'm a thief.

i stole this off someone else's blog (http://farmers-thoughts.blogspot.com, i think). i thought that jordan and ivan would be very interested in it, and since the guy who typed it volunteered that he stole it from someone's ICQ or IRC convo, i figured it was fair game.

A woman has a close male friend. This means that he is probably interested in her, which is why he hangs around so much. She sees him strictly as a friend. This always starts out with, you're a great guy, but I don't like you in that way. This is roughly the equivalent for the guy of going to a job interview and the company saying, You have a great resume, you have all the qualifications we are looking for, but we're not going to hire you. We will, however, use your resume as the basis for comparison for all other applicants. But, we're going to hire somebody who is far less qualified and is probably an alcoholic. And if he doesn't work out, we'll hire somebody else, but still not you. In fact, we will never hire you. But we will call you from time to time to complain about the person that we hired.

very funny. and so true.

so here's a rant.

when the heck did people get such and such years young?

the pitcher was 40-years young, and blah blah blah ...

when i'm 40 years old, i'll be 40 years closer to death.

right now i'm 24 years closer to death.

that's 24 years old. i don't need my ego my be stroked to tell me that i'm not old. i know i'm not old. when i'm 86, i'll be old. 86 years old, to be precise. not 86 frigging years young. bullshit.

planned parenthood action group is responsible for the content of this ad.

so i did write yesterday, but with one swift key stroke i erased everything. since it was my fault i decided to toss in the sponge … oh, did i start typing the tv commercial? damn toilet bowl cleaner commercials … i decided to not bother retyping and i went to watch law & order. i promised christen i would play sims 2 yesterday (wow, that’s a promise, right?) to see if the computer would crash, but i didn’t feel like it. i told him i’d do it tonight. we were having so much trouble with the computer, and he updated the xp with a corporate edition and now unreal tournament isn’t crashing so he wants to know if sims is crashing anymore. cross your fingers – he may have fixed it.

america’s sweethearts was on fx when i got home, so i figured i would watch it … again. yes, i have it on dvd. no, i didn’t particularly like it to begin with. i am obsessed with cheesy romantic comedies. i know this – the cutting edge, america’s sweethearts, miss congeniality, empire records, made-for-tv disney movies, olsen twins movies, meg ryan, tom hanks, reese witherspoon, sandra bullock, you’ve got mail, newsies, when harry met sally, charade, audrey hepburn, cary grant, musicals and all that reminds me of the few good parts of my childhood. old movies in mom’s bed on a rainy day stuff. i think i have a slight phobia of horror movies though, because the thought of them makes me want to hurl. so no (what is jordan’s newest featured movie?) wes craven’s the people under the stairs, thank you. give me legally blonde, thank you.

i’m muddling through a prayer for owen meany (jon irving). i’m sorry; i know that an awful lot of people like the book, and as with the rest of his books, i’m gaga about the plot, but the writing leaves a lot to be desired. i sincerely detest the kind of “memoir” writing that is written (though this isn’t a memoir, the style is similar) where the author is constantly saying “as you will soon see” and “as you will find out.” arg! the point of writing is not to withhold information from the reader, and if the book is written from someone’s pov and that person knows something, the audience should know it too. it’s very manipulative. so i’m on page 117 of 543 and i just don’t know if i want to continue. of course i know i will, just like i finished the fourth hand and a widow for one year and the world according to garp … though i liked those all (but worse to best in respective order) i just have an issue with his writing style.

britney spears may make you horny ...

.... but a couple of drinks is all i need, thank you. christen is watching a documentary on trio called chicken ranch, which is about some women who live in a brothel. it's from the '70s, and it's ... interesting? but not really. not all the women are really that ugly, but they sure are ... interesting. it's the only *nice* word i can use about them. very odd.

anyhow. the bucs lost again last night. oh well; i'm not heartbroken. i went to sleep at the beginning of the 4th, and when i woke up they had lost. meh. at least it looks like we can almost win, which is always good. now we just have to, um, win. yeah, that'd be nice.

tonight was my meeting for the today's cacher mag. it was interesting. i'm looking forward to getting more involved with the zine, but they want me to submit a picture and bio. what do i write? "when april isn't busy correcting your use of "it's" vs. "its" or breaking through her writer's block to pen the newest "great american novel," she's fixing the writers' grammar so you can read what they say. don't hate her because she's beautiful." think that would work? actually, i may write something fairly similar. but i really don't want to submit a pic. i want to submit a funny pic, like the one of the april road sign i found near nebraska, or the one of me when i was 4 putting the star on the top of the christmas tree. but alas, they want a real picture. arg.