and incidentally, you lock your door and close all your windows and never come outside
Up because my brain freaked me out again. But in an average way. And maybe that's the worst part of it.
Been having this problem with yet another short on the left side of the Creative headphones for my .mp3 player. I am having to hold position to make sure the left side doesn't cut out, which, as you may realize, is difficult when sleeping. And, the way I've been tossing in bed, a lot of times one or the other side will fall out. Recently, it was the right side that fell out, which left me in a musicfree environment when the left side cut out.
What happened in a nutshell: I turned over, my right-side earbud fell out, my left-side earbud cut out, and I saw wires all over the back wall of our bedroom. This is not a good thing for someone who sees odd things anyway. I kept staring at them, wondering if it was just me, or if it represented fever I couldn't perceive coming back, or whether it was something the room was hiding from me...Yeah, I know how that sounds, thanks for pointing that out. But that's what I was thinking.
I blinked, and the wires faded, but even after they faded, I still wondered what would happen if they were really there.
Yeah. Very Matrix. Damn, but I want a functional brain back.
And that leads us to...
I woke up this afternoon, and crawled out of yet another bizarre dream sequence. There was this long involved bit about going to this slightly upsetting local convention, then I actually talked up this cute chick and she ended up driving me home after the con was over. (She really was cute. Short and dark-haired, sort of like Lisa Loeb in pigtails. Rounded like Janeane Garofalo. Grr, yeah.)
There was some real suspense when I had to climb out on the outside of one RV wall--somewhere, on the road home, her little blue-and-white Mini had turned into a blue-and-white RV, with her steering from the upper "attic" compartment which was lit by pink light--and repair a door while she drove through this claustrophobia-inducing wooden-walled tunnel. But we got through it and got home.
And when we got home--Cat and I had moved to one of those impossibly tall, desperately serene apartment buildings, the kind with the atrium on each floor, which you never see in real life because IT CAN'T BE DONE, DAMN IT--and I introduced Cat as my partner and the chick raised her hands and said, "Oh, no, I don't mess around with bi chicks." And left.
Man, even in dreams the bi chick gets dissed...
Then, y'know, there was the usual stuph with the moving wall infected with a computer virus, and the scary rednecks down the hall, and the horribly mutilated, half-melted full-size Barbies crawling after me, saying it was all my fault...There was only a little evisceration, I didn't even notice it at first.
You know, the usual. Plus, I don't even twitch at doll stuph now. Dolls are now my dream sharks. :)
See why I don't normally share my dreams?
In fandom, weird crossovers abound. This one's one of the weirdest I've read yet. On t'other hand, it does make a certain amount of sense. Plus, it'll make anyone old enough to remember "BJ and the Bear" giggle like a five-year-old. :)
Communes are springing up all over. Thing with this is, part of my childhood was spent in a cohousing situation, compiled with a hobby farm. In grade school, I just thought everyone lived with their mom, and their extended family, and their cousins, and the guys their mom and uncle employed...It just seemed to work pretty well for us, so I never questioned it.
I still like the idea, but it takes a lot of work. And meetings. To this day, I dread 'household meetings'. :)
Anyway, if you're interested in more on the concept, you can check the National Cohousing Association web page, or the National Association of Housing Cooperatives, or Mitra, which lists Australian and other international communities (including Findhorn--I had no idea they were still going!).
To continue in the realm of differing philosophies, this article brings up several well-thought-out responses to the figure of Satan. I thought it was interesting enough to pass on.
And the secret of the actresses in the fabulous gowns is revealed. Well, not so much 'revealed', per se, as 'further reinforced'. Some of us knew this already. :)
Actually, all this tells me is don't trust mothers in Texas. Gah.
Three deaths, several others sick from a strain of norovirus in Vancouver, Washington, just across the border from here. I'm wondering if there's going to be another outbreak in Oregon.
Fashions from India.
Wau, she's so hostile. Tight henna-pattern leggings, with what I would swear is ruffles at the ankles and knees, and a stick she can use to stab the photographer who took her picture.
Why do we want to arm models, btw? This seems like an inherently bad idea. They do tend to trip on those flimsy little ankles.
A model presents a creation by Indian designer J.J. Valaya during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
Okay, something has to go, and it very well might be her honor guard, because no one needs so many giant Pick-Up Sticks.
But beyond that, let's talk about her outfit. The one zebra-striped lapel doesn't go with the nearly-babydoll tunic. The tunic in turn does not go with the weird leggings.
And there's the matter of wearing high high heels with leggings, but...that's just overkill. Really, the honor guard and the one 80's lapel are the big offenders.
And why is her face so shiny? Does she have silver paint on her forehead? Oh, why?
A model presents a creation by Indian designer J.J. Valaya during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
Well. Spring is busting out all over.
Listen, girl, you do not want to put any more stress on that little strap. Just leave it alone or that thing's gonna snap with enough force to knock one of your eyes out. And then you'll be topless.
Remember, that's how Elvira got her reputation.
A model presents a creation by Indian designer Poonam Bhagat during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
Oh, I was right, they are silverfaced...Gah.
And what's with the mismatching? Half of the bodice of this gown belongs on a whole other gown. And her head looks like it's molting. Let's not even bring up the curiously dreads-like effect perpetrated by that scarf.
Bad Valaya. No biscuit.
A model presents a creation by Indian designer J.J. Valaya during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
That explains a lot, actually.
Well, except for the mismatching. And the patterned leggings. And the silver faces.
Okay, he explains nothing, but at least now we know what he looks like, so we can throw things at him.
Indian designer J.J. Valaya walks the ramp after presenting his creations during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
Great, Jani and Khosla are re-inventing Hammer Pants, for the love of all that's holy. WHY DO WE NEED THIS?!?
A model presents a creation by Indian designers Abu Jani and Sandeep Khosla during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
And, just 'cos I feel like it...have a listen to something from 2005, recorded by Gackt. This is a sprightly, bright, vital piece with the crowd singing along and clapping hands in the background. Perky. What makes "Arittake no Ai De" even more fun--at least for me--is the lead singer claims to be an 800-year-old vampire. Hee.
Erm. *peers at clock* I should probably get back to bed. Damn it. I am being stubborn and volunteering tomorrow.
Been having this problem with yet another short on the left side of the Creative headphones for my .mp3 player. I am having to hold position to make sure the left side doesn't cut out, which, as you may realize, is difficult when sleeping. And, the way I've been tossing in bed, a lot of times one or the other side will fall out. Recently, it was the right side that fell out, which left me in a musicfree environment when the left side cut out.
What happened in a nutshell: I turned over, my right-side earbud fell out, my left-side earbud cut out, and I saw wires all over the back wall of our bedroom. This is not a good thing for someone who sees odd things anyway. I kept staring at them, wondering if it was just me, or if it represented fever I couldn't perceive coming back, or whether it was something the room was hiding from me...Yeah, I know how that sounds, thanks for pointing that out. But that's what I was thinking.
I blinked, and the wires faded, but even after they faded, I still wondered what would happen if they were really there.
Yeah. Very Matrix. Damn, but I want a functional brain back.
And that leads us to...
I woke up this afternoon, and crawled out of yet another bizarre dream sequence. There was this long involved bit about going to this slightly upsetting local convention, then I actually talked up this cute chick and she ended up driving me home after the con was over. (She really was cute. Short and dark-haired, sort of like Lisa Loeb in pigtails. Rounded like Janeane Garofalo. Grr, yeah.)
There was some real suspense when I had to climb out on the outside of one RV wall--somewhere, on the road home, her little blue-and-white Mini had turned into a blue-and-white RV, with her steering from the upper "attic" compartment which was lit by pink light--and repair a door while she drove through this claustrophobia-inducing wooden-walled tunnel. But we got through it and got home.
And when we got home--Cat and I had moved to one of those impossibly tall, desperately serene apartment buildings, the kind with the atrium on each floor, which you never see in real life because IT CAN'T BE DONE, DAMN IT--and I introduced Cat as my partner and the chick raised her hands and said, "Oh, no, I don't mess around with bi chicks." And left.
Man, even in dreams the bi chick gets dissed...
Then, y'know, there was the usual stuph with the moving wall infected with a computer virus, and the scary rednecks down the hall, and the horribly mutilated, half-melted full-size Barbies crawling after me, saying it was all my fault...There was only a little evisceration, I didn't even notice it at first.
You know, the usual. Plus, I don't even twitch at doll stuph now. Dolls are now my dream sharks. :)
See why I don't normally share my dreams?
In fandom, weird crossovers abound. This one's one of the weirdest I've read yet. On t'other hand, it does make a certain amount of sense. Plus, it'll make anyone old enough to remember "BJ and the Bear" giggle like a five-year-old. :)
Communes are springing up all over. Thing with this is, part of my childhood was spent in a cohousing situation, compiled with a hobby farm. In grade school, I just thought everyone lived with their mom, and their extended family, and their cousins, and the guys their mom and uncle employed...It just seemed to work pretty well for us, so I never questioned it.
I still like the idea, but it takes a lot of work. And meetings. To this day, I dread 'household meetings'. :)
Anyway, if you're interested in more on the concept, you can check the National Cohousing Association web page, or the National Association of Housing Cooperatives, or Mitra, which lists Australian and other international communities (including Findhorn--I had no idea they were still going!).
To continue in the realm of differing philosophies, this article brings up several well-thought-out responses to the figure of Satan. I thought it was interesting enough to pass on.
And the secret of the actresses in the fabulous gowns is revealed. Well, not so much 'revealed', per se, as 'further reinforced'. Some of us knew this already. :)
Actually, all this tells me is don't trust mothers in Texas. Gah.
Three deaths, several others sick from a strain of norovirus in Vancouver, Washington, just across the border from here. I'm wondering if there's going to be another outbreak in Oregon.
Fashions from India.
Wau, she's so hostile. Tight henna-pattern leggings, with what I would swear is ruffles at the ankles and knees, and a stick she can use to stab the photographer who took her picture.
Why do we want to arm models, btw? This seems like an inherently bad idea. They do tend to trip on those flimsy little ankles.
A model presents a creation by Indian designer J.J. Valaya during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
Okay, something has to go, and it very well might be her honor guard, because no one needs so many giant Pick-Up Sticks.
But beyond that, let's talk about her outfit. The one zebra-striped lapel doesn't go with the nearly-babydoll tunic. The tunic in turn does not go with the weird leggings.
And there's the matter of wearing high high heels with leggings, but...that's just overkill. Really, the honor guard and the one 80's lapel are the big offenders.
And why is her face so shiny? Does she have silver paint on her forehead? Oh, why?
A model presents a creation by Indian designer J.J. Valaya during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
Well. Spring is busting out all over.
Listen, girl, you do not want to put any more stress on that little strap. Just leave it alone or that thing's gonna snap with enough force to knock one of your eyes out. And then you'll be topless.
Remember, that's how Elvira got her reputation.
A model presents a creation by Indian designer Poonam Bhagat during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
Oh, I was right, they are silverfaced...Gah.
And what's with the mismatching? Half of the bodice of this gown belongs on a whole other gown. And her head looks like it's molting. Let's not even bring up the curiously dreads-like effect perpetrated by that scarf.
Bad Valaya. No biscuit.
A model presents a creation by Indian designer J.J. Valaya during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
That explains a lot, actually.
Well, except for the mismatching. And the patterned leggings. And the silver faces.
Okay, he explains nothing, but at least now we know what he looks like, so we can throw things at him.
Indian designer J.J. Valaya walks the ramp after presenting his creations during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
Great, Jani and Khosla are re-inventing Hammer Pants, for the love of all that's holy. WHY DO WE NEED THIS?!?
A model presents a creation by Indian designers Abu Jani and Sandeep Khosla during the India Fashion Week in New Delhi, India, on Friday. (AP Photo/Sebastian John) (April 07, 2006)
And, just 'cos I feel like it...have a listen to something from 2005, recorded by Gackt. This is a sprightly, bright, vital piece with the crowd singing along and clapping hands in the background. Perky. What makes "Arittake no Ai De" even more fun--at least for me--is the lead singer claims to be an 800-year-old vampire. Hee.
Erm. *peers at clock* I should probably get back to bed. Damn it. I am being stubborn and volunteering tomorrow.