February 25, 2002 :: 2:45 p.m.
when I grow up I want to live in a microwave
I had the weirdest dream last night. It was me, Adam, Amanda, Pat, and someone else, I think, but I don't remember who. We were sitting in a living room-type place, watching TV. Everything was kind of brown and odd-looking. Anyway. Adam and Pat crawled into, believe it or not, a microwave to talk. Yes, a microwave. Shut up. So the rest of us sat there for what seemed like hours, until Pat came out and told me that I was supposed to go into the microwave. So I did. It was much bigger inside than it appeared, but still rather difficult to shove my fat ass into. But I did. And I shut the door behind me, but it seemed like everyone could still see us... which was weird, because when Adam and Pat were in there I couldn't see anything but a microwave. Yeah. So here I am, sitting in the microwave with Adam, and he starts singing this goofy-ass song... I have no idea what it was. I kept trying to stop him, to ask what the hell was going on and why he was singing to me while sitting in a microwave. But he wouldn't stop. He kept singing, and I sat there looking around the little box. When he was finished, he gave me one of those little rings that you get out of quarter machines. You know, the ones that look like they're made out of tin foil. Heh. I believe we crawled out after that, but I can't remember exactly.
So... that was strange. A while ago, when I was trying to put up a new layout for this thing and it just would not work, I dreamed about writing HTML. I mean, I didn't see myself writing it, because all I saw was a white space and line after line of HTML being written really fast. But I assume I was the one doing it. In any case, it was really fucked up. One should not dream in code.
It's almost 3 o' clock and I haven't eaten anything bad for me yet. This qualifies as a miracle, considering that for the past week or so I've been hoovering up any and all junk food that enters my radar area. I even took my multivitamin and calcium supplements this morning, which I usually forget to do. So hurrah for me and preventing further fat infestation.
I want to change my earrings, but I'm afraid I'll rip my earlobes off trying to remove the ones I have in. They're the ones I got pierced with, and try as I might, I've yet to be able to get them out. Devil earrings. I think the chick who pierced them put superglue in the backings.
edited at 3:03 p.m. I got two more search engine hits: "'freezing cold in the studio'" from Google and "'i'm not a talker'" from Yahoo. Neither of these even comes close to matching the glory of "get me some raw cookie dough lest I perish" or "enemas for boys," though. Heh.
back & forth
Wait, there's more!
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