Zombies, monster movies, bad dreams, buses.
So last night, I had disturbingly vivid and realistic 'the zombie invasion has come' dreams. Like, realistic and upsetting enough to leave me shivering and wake me up several times over the course of the night, only to suck me right back under. It's rare for dreams to upset me that badly; these ones did. Infected people stayed intelligent for a little while, but went evil immediately, which meant that they could actively infiltrate groups of uninfected individuals to spread the virus. That meant you couldn't trust anybody.
We were evacuating an area, and this woman and her eight-year-old daughter were begging for a ride out of the infection zone...and we couldn't give them one, because we couldn't trust their condition. It was bad. It got worse when we saw them again about fifteen minutes later and got absolute proof that they weren't infected. Worse, and much, much gorier. I believe the moral of this story is probably 'do not read Stephen King while copy-editing two hundred pages of Newsflesh, you moron.' I could be wrong, but really, I don't think that I am.
Here. Have ten important lessons about plot and things not to have characters do that I learned from monster movies. Perhaps I am easily amused. But dude, after the horrible zombie dreams, I feel like I've earned some easy amusement.
We had a new driver on the Transbay bus this morning, who was deeply perplexed by the fact that pretty much everyone who rides said bus a) gets on, b) pays their fare, and c) goes to sleep. He was muttering to himself about it. I was sitting right behind him, and could hear him whenever my iPod switched songs. Adorable, if hilarious. It helped keep my doze from turning into another horrible dream, and I appreciate that.
Quoth Kate, which I was dancing in the living room to the Party Favorites Music Channel: "Oh my God, she's doing the Lobster."
ROCK LOBSTER!!!!
We were evacuating an area, and this woman and her eight-year-old daughter were begging for a ride out of the infection zone...and we couldn't give them one, because we couldn't trust their condition. It was bad. It got worse when we saw them again about fifteen minutes later and got absolute proof that they weren't infected. Worse, and much, much gorier. I believe the moral of this story is probably 'do not read Stephen King while copy-editing two hundred pages of Newsflesh, you moron.' I could be wrong, but really, I don't think that I am.
Here. Have ten important lessons about plot and things not to have characters do that I learned from monster movies. Perhaps I am easily amused. But dude, after the horrible zombie dreams, I feel like I've earned some easy amusement.
We had a new driver on the Transbay bus this morning, who was deeply perplexed by the fact that pretty much everyone who rides said bus a) gets on, b) pays their fare, and c) goes to sleep. He was muttering to himself about it. I was sitting right behind him, and could hear him whenever my iPod switched songs. Adorable, if hilarious. It helped keep my doze from turning into another horrible dream, and I appreciate that.
Quoth Kate, which I was dancing in the living room to the Party Favorites Music Channel: "Oh my God, she's doing the Lobster."
ROCK LOBSTER!!!!