Tuesday, February 13, 2007

The Grammys Make Me Sick, Literally

I like this note to self thing. Here's another: pancakes at First Watch are bad. Don't order them again. Remember this.
Justin Timberlake got the flu. He had the flu Sunday night at the Grammys. I watched the Grammys, went to bed, woke up, and had the flu. Thanks Justin. Thanks alot.
While sick, I did the following:

I watched The Sound of Music. For the first time. Ever.
It was good. It didn't inspire a cultish following in me, but it did make me IMDb Christopher Plummer to see if he was straight or Ian McKellan. Married three times, baby.

That's it. I started a short story about golf and a zoo and leprechauns and a deal with the devil (it involves Old People) to procrastinate working on my novel. Golf holes with Wonderland rabbit hole type properties was not my idea but Carissa's. Five year olds can be geniuses sometimes. Other times, they think the following is a good knock-knock joke.

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Uh, my shoes.
My shoes who?
Can't you see I'm wearing my shoes?

This is how all her knock-knock jokes go. She doesn't really understand what "funny" means.

I also had a dream that ended with me waking up my heart choking me (it being in my throat and all). For some reason or other I was in a parking lot at night with some friends. On the other side of the parking lot was a billboard with some sort of impertinent sticker on it and, below the billboard, an old man standing next to a pair of pickaxes. So a friend of mine goes running over to peel off the sticker, and I see the old man picking up one of the axes. I have a bad feeling about this, so I scream for her to look out. She runs past the man, picks up an axe, and starts peeling off the sticker. The man raises his axe to kill her as I'm screaming my brains out... and then just puts the axe down. All's good. But just as my friend turns around, some voice suspended in air over my head screams, "Run for your life!" scaring the everliving daylights out of me, so I run, assuming the threat is the creepy old man with the pickaxes. So I start running towards my friends at the other end of the parking lot. I turn and realize the man isn't following me. Which means I'm probably running in the wrong direction. I'm going too fast and I realize some brown shadowy thing is coming at me from the left, I try to swerve but it's going to get me -- and I wake up. Half out of my mind. All this seemed to last only a few seconds but that scream for me to run and that brown thing coming out of nowhere on the wrong side really freaked me out. And I hadn't watched any scary movies. Just The Sound of Music.

Which tells you the kind of relationship I have to musicals.

OK, enough procrastinating. I'm going to start working again. Sigh.

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In summing up, I wish I had some kind of affirmative message to leave you with. I don't. Would you take two negative messages?
-- Woody Allen