I had a dream last night where I was in a courtroom where instead of benches for spectators, they had large wooden restaurant booths instead. I was sitting in one of these, snuggling with Alan Rickman, when the Owlvark came over to tell me that in the song "John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith, " "Jingleheimer" actually meant "egg mender" in German. He then went on to explain how the second line of the song ("Jingleheimer Jingleheimer toast toast toast, " if the rather sketchy dream memory serves) actually referred to egg-mending, not to mention toast. I then woke up in utter confusion. #grins#

In other, completely unrelated news, we've been watching Metalocalypse, and it's freaking hysterical. It's just ridiculously silly and compulsively easy to watch. I just wish they'd put it on earlier; 1:30am is pushing it as far as bedtime goes.

"An April 2008 poll by SurveyUSA estimated that at least 18 million American adults have been Rickrolled."

And, in an informal poll conducted in my household, an estimated two people agreed that Survey USA should really find something useful to report on.

"It's sort of like having a small, water-based sloth."

- The Owlvark, on hermit crabs.

While Tension Tamer tea does in fact work, and work very well, I resist drinking it unless absolutely necessary as I think it tastes terrible. I assume this is because it has so many strong-tasting ingredients, and no mild ones to soften it out, so they all duke it out like they were in some sort of herbal cage match.

My awesome ferret calendar has a picture of ferrets putting ribbon on a maypole on the first of May. Hee hee hee hee :)

I always liked Gobo best from the Fraggles, but I never noticed as a child that he appears to be Canadian.

Well, that's certainly straightened things up quite a bit. I still have more DVD's though, and no space for the PS2, but it's still a lot cleaner in that corner.

I am an RPG dice junkie. I own far more dice than I could play with in any one game, and I can outfit stray players easily should the need arise. I dream of having a giant glass jar filled with dice and sitting on the windowsill.

And so this will be my downfall.

I had the coolest dream last night- I was running a rooftop parkour course with Brock Samson.

So I happened to hear that song, "Tear You Apart" by 'She Wants Revenge' on the radio today, and yeah, deliberately caricatured, following Depeche Mode and Bauhaus, yadda yadda yadda, but where, precisely, is the bit that explains why their lead singer has to sound as much like Fred Schneider as is humanly possible? I can't believe I missed that the first time it came around; I was teaching camp and it was on heavy rotation on the Buzz. Heh. Nothing important.

Workdesk of Order

More or less.

Workdesk of Chaos

Gee, I wonder why I haven't gotten any work done lately...

Most of my mad money is going towards cookbooks and good porn. Gods, I love being an adult. #grins#

I had rather an awesome idea- if you took all the songs from the Mighty Boosh, and played them one after the other, and did all the dances, not only would you be ridiculously cheerful, you'd also get some good exercise.

Apparently PMS + the IT Crowd = an uncontrollable urge to cuddle Moss and Roy, especially when they're crying.

Best thing about this evening; duct taping a book to my pocketless little brother so he could jog home with it.

Worst thing about this evening: spending half an hour with my hands in the (just cleaned) freezing cold toilet using a screwdriver to chip off a third of an inch of what is basically limestone that was making it difficult for the toilet to function correctly. I don't mind the whole toilet thing, really, since I'd just cleaned it and all, but the angle you need to scrape/dig/stab at is hard on anyone's wrists and the water, especially from repeated flushes to clear away the stone chunks, gets progressively colder and colder until your hands are numb.

Best thing about that: I don't feel guilty about spending the rest of the evening watching the Boosh Live and drinking hot tea, and not, say, doing something constructive.

I've been idly browsing used car ads, trying to decide if I'd rather have a Mustang or a Charger (the great debate from Bullitt, I think). I'm not really a car girl, my great love being transport with hooves, but there's something about those 60's and 70's muscle cars that makes my ears perk up- must be the engine noise. They're actually not too expensive, if you don't mind high mileage (which I don't mind, considering the first car I had my name on the title to went up over 200,000 when we had it, and it kept in ticking to the end) and a little paintwork/interior work. It's something to think about when I'm working; a 'toy' car that I could learn to fix up could be a fun project.

It seems that at the moment the only vaguely interesting thing I have to blather on about is my dreams. Case in point, considering the amount of the Mighty Boosh I watched last night (not to mention all the screencaps I was taking) I *should* have had some sort of excellent dream about Saboo that I would be unable to write about here. This, of course, would be if my brain liked me. Apparently my brain doesn't like me, because instead I dreamed that I was sitting at a table in a run-down coffee shop, having a shouting match about politics with Harrison, who I finally hit with a chair before storming out. #sighs# No, I don't get it either.

The only thing I remember about my dreams last night is that I woke up thinking, "Well, what would Steve McQueen do?"

...He'd be awesome, of course. Beyond that, I wish I knew.

So there was a pretty good sale at Michael's today, and although I went in originally for origami paper (didn't find any, either, grr...) I did, as usual, come out with about three times the amount of stuff I went after. I did get a couple of good things from the Christmas sales (a cool faux berry wreath and two lovely glass ornaments) and I found two scrapbooking albums on a good sale. I am not really much into scrapbooking, certainly not one of those people that will scrapbook every single episode of their life, from watching TV to walking down the street, but I've wanted to make a decent one for Cameron for quite a while, and the sale finally prompted me to do it (and the discovery of a good-sized album that was not a somber cover. WTF is up with all the charcoal/navy/black albums out there? I'm well aware he's gone, I don't need reminders...) Also, I got an oversized one for the eight months I spent in the UK, as I figure that was definitely an adventure worth recording. It'll give me something to do, which is good. Now, I have to go and print out about a hundred photos from Wegmans...