"That which is overdesigned, too highly specific, anticipates outcome; the anticipation of outcome guarantees, if not failure, the absence of grace."
-- William Gibson, All Tomorrow's Parties
Zee pepperoni, it calls to me.

ugh. Ate too much for lunch, was up too early writing too much code, so! Just woke up from a short nap. Dreamed I was stuck in my old pick-up with some Indian guy who was renting the guest room of my parents house, with my little sister and two of her friends in the back seat (king cab). This is out west somewhere, near some business park, and we're waiting in this two mile long queue to get on the exit ramp. The Indian guy, he gets tired of waiting so cuts up onto the park and of course everyone starts honking at him.

"Dude, you can't do that. Another thing in America is: You wait your goddamn turn or people fuckin' sue your ass."

(This is a reference to something too vague to properly recall which happened earlier in the dream... at my parent's house, dealing with some serial killer who looked like Nerdy Tobey McGuire. He should have been in the truck as we all left together, but eh, dreams.)

Anyway, so we're back to waiting in the line for the exit, and we pull up next to a bus stop. Where Britney Fucking Spears is waiting in sweat pants and a sweater-thing, not looking too skanked out. So I strike up a conversation with Britney Fucking Spears and eventually ask her if she wants to come out with my friend Harry (I can only laugh at imagining Harry and Britney Fucking Spears hanging out). She hesitates for a moment, then gives me her digits, which I proceed to write on my arm in giant bubble numbers. A few seconds later, the area code has already vanished, Back to the Future-vanishing-limb-style. Britney Fucking Spears says that for some reason she thought I looked familiar. When pressed as to why I would look in any way familiar to Britney Fucking Spears, I am interrupted by:

Cut to just before I wake up and I'm explaining to Harry what "je ne c'est quoi" means, how "ne" is just an operator much like "!" in most scripting languages.

I stumble up the stairs to Pete's room, and explain this (or most of it) to my roommate with the extra-special outlook on life, and he says "Man, you need some ass."

Me, I just figured "no more pizza before nap."

(There was another, earlier part of the dream, before the serial killer bit. I was stuck in some bubble universe, much like that opening sequence in Abre Los Ojos or Vanilla Sky, no one else around in my old hometown.

Whatever was running the universe would randomly suck people in from the real world and dump them here. My interactions with these people would solve, or fail to solve, some equation the universe controller was attempting to figure out. This bit didn't really go anywhere, so I didn't mention it initially.

The most amusing bit, I thought, was how when I went to take the trash out, it went not in the giant green stereotypical suburanite trashcan but in the cab of my goddamn pick-up truck. There was some lame dream-joke about garbage collection processes I'm just glad I don't remember.

...yeah.)

June 24, 2005 7:50 PM
Comments

Bryan, well, I suppose I should be happy that you were explaining "je ne c'est quoi" as opposed to "menage a trois". :-P

Posted by: Harry at June 24, 2005 9:00 PM

a;lskdjfal;ksdjf

MY BRAINS

Posted by: bda at June 24, 2005 9:03 PM

My dreams probably are as weird when spelled out, but fortunately I forget most of them the moment I wake up. No great loss for humanity, I must say.

And you need help.

Posted by: dba at June 24, 2005 10:29 PM

It's "Je ne sais quoi", you sloppy whore.

Posted by: Dan at June 25, 2005 1:37 AM

Bah, fuck French, and bunnies, and stuff. French bunnies with lisps. Fucker.

Posted by: bda at June 25, 2005 8:36 PM
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