February 21, 2003 :: 12:45 p.m.
Care Bears care about your yummy delicious brains
It's Friday, I'm listening to Spanish rock/pop, and Emily is currently not here. All is well. Of course, in about 2 minutes Emily will be back, the TV will be blaring, and Spanish rock/pop will suddenly cease to make me so happy, but I'm trying my very best to enjoy it while it lasts. So here I am, enjoying.
Last night was big with the dreams. One I actually had, and another I just thought about having before I drifted off to sleep. The latter was more disturbing visually, but the one that I really did dream was far worse from a personal standpoint. It was graphic or violent or anything... in fact, all it consisted of was me, reading Adam's online diary. How much more proof do you need that Diaryland is PURE EVIL? It's infiltrating my dreams. So yeah, it wasn't bad in that "oh my god, there's a guy with a big knife chasing me and he's going to chop me into little pieces and store me in ziploc freezer bags" kind of way, but the things one finds in a diary aren't always happy revelations. But it was a dream, and no such entry actually exists, so to my paranoid psyche I say: whatever.
The dream that I merely thought about having, however, was freaky as all hell. The giant Grumpy Bear that Adam gave me for Valentine's Day is sits at the end of my bed, surrounded by his worshiping court in the form of Buster (white dog), Bentley (brown bear), and Rod Rottie (rottweiler). He seems to like it there, as much as Grumpy Bear can seem to like anything at all. Well, before I fell asleep I was looking down at him, and I got to thinking that it would be really frightening to dream about an evil Care Bear. Imagine, if you will, the Care Bear of you choice standing above your sleeping form. It's eyes are blank and malicious, its mouth open and dripping the saliva of the openly homicidal all over your yummy sushi pajamas. Perhaps it even has fangs, if your Care Bear is some sort of mutant Vamp Bear. It could have a knife, or pliers, or a pawful of rusty nails - the weapon is also of your choosing. Mine had a big knife, simply because I find big knifes very scary. I think it's slasher flick mind poisoning. It proceeds to open your skull and nibble on your brains. Is that not terrifying? I think so. I'm glad I didn't actually dream that after I laid there for about half an hour thinking about dreaming about it.
And oh, I was correct. Emily is back, watching Jerry Springer or something similarly classless and eating what can only be french fries. Why can't she just eat there? Seriously. She goes to the Underground, gets food in a styrofoam container (grr), brings it back here, and stinks up the room while watching trash TV. And they wonder why I hate it here.
Oh, wait. No they don't. It's pretty self-explanatory. And there goes my happy.
I'm going to go work on picking songs for a mix CD that I'm putting together, and then it's off to the computer lab to grab Adam and go to craptastic Global Pop. Wish me death!
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
I like pina coladas - March 30, 2005
must... finish... projects... - March 22, 2005
Mr. Postman delivers the good stuff - March 18, 2005
when everything is bad - March 16, 2005
of fruits and menstruation - March 15, 2005