Archive for September, 2008

Thank you, spammers!

Sunday, September 21st, 2008

This blog gets a whole lot of comments from spambots. Up until now, the authors’ names have been a load of gibberish. Now they’re using actual names, probably in an attempt to bypass the spam filters, and all I have to say is this:

Thank you, spammers!

While I enjoy writing, I am terrible at coming up with names. I don’t know how you come up with these names, but they’re pretty damn good! Sure, some of them are cheesy, but I’m sure that I can mix and match the first and last names to come up with something.

Anyway, keep ‘em coming! I’ve got twenty-five written down so far. That’s got to be enough for at least three short stories.

A plethora of weird dreams

Friday, September 12th, 2008

There are some days where I wake up and just vaguely remember some of the dreams that I had. This morning, I woke up with a pretty clear memory of most of them.

The first one that I can remember involved something eclipsing the sun. I looked up briefly when I noticed that it had gone from day to night in mere seconds, and I noticed the corona surrounding a black circle. Remembering that it’s not safe to look directly into a solar eclipse, I looked away. That’s all I can remember about that dream.

My next dream actually began with me waking up in a fast food restaurant. I had been sleeping on one of the booth benches. It became apparent that I worked there when I wandered behind the counter. One of the other employees, a girl, greeted me and asked me if I had been sleeping in the restaurant overnight. I said “yep” or something along those lines, and I went off to the bathroom.

Here’s where things get weird.

After sitting on the toilet for a few moments, an old lady came into the bathroom because she noticed that I worked there and had some questions. I can’t remember for the life of me what it was that she wanted to ask me, but that might have something to do with the fact that she came right into my stall. I clearly remember what it was that I said to her, because, despite the awkward circumstances, I probably would have found something a bit more diplomatic to say in the real world than this:

“Bitch, can’t you see I’m doing something here?!”

She gave me a harsh look, as if to say “you’re so fired” and promptly shuffled out of the bathroom to tell my boss. I remember being horrified by the fact that I’d spoken to a customer so rudely, and sure enough my boss was waiting for me when I left the bathroom. She told me that she just received the complaint, and the first thing out of my mouth was that I had no idea why I said it. Clearly, I did know why I said it. That just sounded like the best thing to say at the moment. So, my boss started to chastise me, saying something like “you know, this reminds me of the time when you…” and she trailed off from there. I can’t remember anything else about that dream.

The last dream that I had is a little fuzzy near the beginning. I remember being backstage in some theater, and I took a hole puncher to my own nose. It left a gaping hole just above my right nostril. There was no blood, and the hole closed up almost completely moments later. Then, suddenly, I was on stage during the live performance of Night of the Living Dead. The only other person on stage was some white guy, and we spent the duration of the play opening doors, letting “zombies” in, and “killing” them from behind props. I asked one of the actors if we were doing it right while we were huddled behind a couch. When we emerged, we found that the audience had gone to a much nicer theater just next door.

Having befriended one of my fellow actors, an indian fellow with a full head of brown hair, we went to the adjacent theater and confirmed that it was far better than our small theater. This theater could seat a thousand at least, and it was very easy to get lost. Of course, my friend and I got seperated, and I spent a while searching for him. I remember trying to jump up to one of the higher balconies from a staircase, but I fell and was met by a beautiful woman, also indian but with a full head of black hair, who turned out to be an usher. I told her that I was looking for my friend, and he suddenly appeared and waved me over. After we left the theater, I woke up.

The only thing that I learned from all of this is that a group of dreams are called a plethora. At least, that’s my official ruling.

I am a sick, sick man

Friday, September 5th, 2008

Allow me to preface this by saying that my idea of a good Grand Theft Auto IV session involves the slaughter of countless innocents, wave after wave of police officers and the destruction of every vehicle in Liberty City. That being said, I just had a very disturbing thought — no, scratch that, it was more of an internal discourse that happened shortly after speeding past a playground with a considerable number of police cars in hot pursuit. (In Grand Theft Auto IV, that is, not real life.) It went something like this:

“There should be children in Liberty City. Where are they?”

“Why, do you want to maim and mangle them, too?”

I had to pause for a moment to ponder that one. I mean, it’s not so much that I want to, but for the sake of realism…

Yeah, the title of this post pretty much sums it up.