Snippits and Psychos and pricey crustaceans

Dreams are even more fun when you realize you are dreaming, and you start performing experiments. Specific example: I"m driving to work and my car is swerving all over the road (I often have panic daydreams about falling asleep and crashing on the way home from work) as I'm veering off the road, I say to myself this can't be happening, and I wake up. I return to sleep and I'm driving again, but I'm aware that I'm dreaming. They say that you can't die in a dream, or if you do you die for real. So I decide to test this. I let go of the wheel and floor the accelerator. My Esteem (that's my car. or is it a metaphor? HA!) zips down the road, but stays on course. This won't do. I turn the wheel and aim toward a parked car at full speed. Instants before the impact... my car dematerialized and I'm left standing next to the parked car. I utter a short prayer to Keanu (woah) and continue on my dream.

There was no ice cream, and no one said "Now that's what I call a sticky situation."

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Lobster somehow doesn't taste quite as good when you pay $23 for it in a diner in Salem, than when you pay $11 for it in Rockport, sitting on wooden crates in the back of a lobster shack. Mmmm lobster.

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May was as good/uncomfortable/freakish as people said it was. Thanks to Heatray for recommending the movie, and to Hellocatgirl and Fugbug for seconding it. I think the director had a crush on Anna Faris, because that was the most over the top lesbian-as-envisioned-by-a-guy character EVER. Also, Jeremy Sisto failed several common sense roles in that film. Note to all characters in the film. When the shy, spooky, stammering girl who won't look you in the eye becomes forward, calm, and stares you right in the eye, RUN. Especially if she's dragging a big cooler with her.

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Banana nut pancakes taste as good at home as they do in the restaurant.

Slimming down

The past two Sundays, I threw out a pile of garbage the size of a Lincoln town car. Our new apartment will not have an attic, and any occasion to move is a good time to get rid of dead weight. I dithered on discarding a lot of my comics, but for now they will come with me. It's interesting to see which objects you keep, and which ones you pitch. The journal and collage book from one of my stalkers? Gone. My old bank statement book. Keep.

It seems like an odd choice, but it turned out to be an interesting read. In between the rent checks and bills were entries about concerts, movies, and really large CD purchases from Digital Underground. Several times there was funny commentary (Chris' got a brand new bag.... HEY!) There are only months and days listed, no years. However, I can date it by seeing when films like the Matrix or the Messenger were released. Sometimes all it takes is one word to spark a memory, to see where I was in the days of yore. Before livejournal, there was my checkbook.