And then we broke out in song and danced gaily down the street.

Or maybe not. I can't quite remember how the dream ended, but we were doing something in the street, so why shouldn't it be singing and dancing. It's not like we were snapping our fingers, looking to shank some Jets/Sharks punks.

No, my dreams more often than not center around the weird than the violent.

So yeah, I had this dream the other night about my best friend. My BBBF I'll refer to here as Z.

The dream started (as far as I can remember) with me in the parking lot of my apartment complex. I was dressed in clothes I normally wear for work. Why that's significant, I don't know. But it was for some reason. As I watched the dream unfold in Playback Mode the following morning I remember noticing the work pants I was wearing. I just think its weird the small little details that stick out in dreams. Because in the dream it wasn't just 'pants', it was 'those pants I wear to work!'

I wonder if there's a translation of 'work clothes' dream symbolism somewhere...

Anywhoo, I was at the mailbox (which is located on the edge of the parking lot a few cars down from where I normally park) when all of a sudden a car pulls up next to me. And who happens to be in the car? Why its Z! In the backseat while her parents are in the front! And the car is the old blue rodeo her mom used to drive us around in when we were in high school! I was chauffeured around a lot in that car, by both her parents and later by Z (when her knight rider car was on the fritz) so I guess my brain didn't want to bother picturing her mom's new car.

Actually, I can't picture it now... d'oh!

So Z (who lives a couple hours north of me) decided to show up early in the morning. In the middle of the week. With her parents. Okaaaaaay.

Now, I'd just come from checking the mailbox (which I'd been doing for a couple days prior in real life, looking for something Z had sent me) but I didn't have anything in my hand except my atm card (which I need to use to buy Z's b-day present. Don't worry Z! It's coming!)

I remember feeling... well I guess I can't remember exactly what I was feeling a couple of days after the dream. I was going to say embarrassed, but that's wrong. I was more anxious than anything, that they might - *gasp* - see the atm card! I quickly hid it in my pants pocket. I'm not sure what my subconscious was trying to say there, but I think I was just anxious about buying her present, and presents are secrets until they're open. So I wanted to keep the card a secret. Or something.

So I squirrel away my atm card and Z rolls down the window. She holds up a huge zip lock freezer bag (a regular one would have done just fine, I remember noting the strange use of the too-big bag) with a couple of mini sandwiches inside. She'd made me ham sandwiches that looked just like the ones I'd had two weekends ago when I went to the beach and hung out with family. Those sandwiches were full of awesome. Simply made, with fresh-from-the-bakery wheat bread and some Dijon mustard and pickles. Cut into four small mini sandwiches. Oh so yummy.

So to recap so far: my BBBF shows up with her parents, in an old car from the memory banks of my childhood, with mini ham sandwiches in a huge-ass zip lock freezer bag, all while I'm standing near my mailbox in work clothes waving around my atm card for all the hoodlums in the neighborhood to see.

Then the weird stuff started happening.

The memory of the dream gets a little fuzzy after Z holds up the baggie of sandwiches. Next thing I remember is the four of us standing in the middle of the parking lot. Why were we standing in the middle of the parking lot? I have no idea. Easier to talk to maybe?

And suddenly there was a fifth person standing in our little social group. It was a guy. A faceless shadow of a guy because my brain didn't have enough information to fill him in. Whoever it was though, it was definitely a guy. It wasn't the HB, or Z's brother, or my brother, or anyone I knew at all. But it was definitely someone Z knew. Someone who came Z to this lil' gathering.

(And yes Z, I'm sure he was mucho hunky.)

So the five of us are standing in the parking lot, just chillin', talking about stuff, and it somehow comes out that they all play FFXI, which is the videogame I'm addicted to. Ohmygosh! I have that game! You play too? Ohmygosh!

So needless to say, after we learned that, we all had to pull out our gaming consoles and play online together. Right there in the parking lot. Because I don't remember inviting them up to my apartment!

Mwhahahahah!

I'm such a bad host, making my friends and Z's hunky boyfriend who plays videogames play outside in the parking lot.

And that's all I remember.

So Z, start hanging out in videogame stores. That's where you'll find Mr. Hunky. I'm sure that's what my dream was ultimately trying to tell me. And hey, who knows, maybe this guy is the videogame store owner, and owns a franchise of video game store chains across the globe!

Mr. Rich N. Hunky

:)

One more until immortality!

Today is my 28th birthday. However, yesterday was the actual anniversary of the day of my birth, (I was born on the other side of the globe, several time zones ahead of the one I habitat now, so yesterday it was the 8th here and the 9th there, so technically it was my birthday) but no one seemed keen to celebrate it with me. Which is a total crock.

My parents never let me open presents early. "You were born on the 9th, you can open presents on the 9th." And no amount of "but mom" reasoning could change my mom's mind.

The HB celebrates two birthdays. He was born on one day, but his birth certificate lists a different day (two days later). So he celebrates his real birthday and his official, legal birthday. No, he doesn't get twice the presents. He just gets to use the 'but its my birthday!' line for two whole days.

I let him get away with this because I'm his girlfriend. It's just what girlfriends do. Plus, he's cute. And can be real adorable when he wants to be.

But you know what, I'm cute too dammit. I should get to use the but its my birthday! line twice too.

I tried telling people yesterday that it was my birth anniversary, the actual anniversary of my birth all those years ago, and that there should be cake and balloons and monkeys with parrots on their shoulders singing happy birthday telegrams, but no one was buying it.

Silly people.

Anywhoo, today is my "official" birthday, and its turning out to be a great day (despite having to wake up at 5am. Ug.) So far I've received the following:

A "happy birthday honey!" from the HB as soon as the alarm went off.
A couple 'happy birthdays' from my office-mates.
A happy birthday email from the best friend.
A photoshopped picture of a festive religious figure from Jack.
A happy birthday serenade and phone call from my mom.
And a 9.7 score from Mr. Desk Neighbor.

I have no idea where the last one came from. For some reason he felt compelled to print out a sheet of paper with big bold "9.7" in the center, and then hang it up on my cubicle wall. I asked what happened to the ".3". He said my delivery was a little faulty.

Huh?

Exactly.

** Edited to Add:

I forgot to include the email Jack sent of him singing happy birthday. Which didn't work because I couldn't hear it. And he still hasn't sent it in different format so I can here it. :P

Also to add to the list, a fellow 28-er just sent me a happy bday text message, from one old lady to another. :)

Second Favorite Overheard Office Conversation of the Day

It was really a one sided conversation, because whenever coworker #1 tells a story he takes center stage, but here it is anyway...

Coworker #1: So we had both Chihuahuas over last night.
Coworker #2: Uh huh.
Coworker #1: And my wife started dancing like this.

Coworker #1 performs spastic twister dance.

Coworker #1: She had both dogs on a leash and was all tangled up.

Coworker #1 continues spastic twister dance.

Coworker #1: I was laughing so hard my ass *mumble mumble mumble*
Coworker #2: What?
Coworker #3: What?
Coworker #1: My ass trumpet went off!

Favorite Overheard Office Conversation of the Day

We build stuff here. And stuff, as always, is in need of being built. So people in the office were discussing said stuff. Mechanical know-how jargon was being bandied about. I was only half paying attention. Then I heard this:

Supervisor: Is this my exit hole right here?
Coworker: ...
Supervisor: Oh. Heh heh heh.

I once kept a record of all the stuff I overheard at work, that sounded dirty in my gutter residing mind. It was hard at the beginning, when I first started working here, because the 10 year old boy inside me wanted to giggle every time someone talked about vibrators or nipples or shafts or female/male ends connecting to each other. Luckily, the 20-something girl on the outside was able to keep her cool. Because I'm a professional. Yep indeed-y-do.

Here's another addition to the ongoing series of entries in the category of Things That Annoy Me

I should start using category tags. (yes, I know Jack, shush, I'll get to it). That way, when every category has double digit numbers and the Things That Annoy me category has a quadruple digit number, my head will explode and I'll come to the realization that I probably shouldn't let things annoy me so much.

But until then...

Annoyance # 427: people clapping in the movie theater at the end of the movie.

Why? Why do you clap at the end of a movie? It makes no freaking sense. And its retarded. So just knock it off, will ya? You're annoying the sane, reasonable, nonretarded people.

Okay, I can understand clapping if you're at a movie premier in say, Hollywood or New York or wherever, and the cast is there, or the director, or producer, or grip boy, or anyone even remotely connected to the making of the movie is there. You like the movie, and you want to give the people involved their due. Give them mad props. Go ahead. Clap the fuck away.

And I can understand clapping at the end of a movie that is particularly moving. Did it make you cry? Did it touch you to the very depths of your soul? Then clap. Go ahead. Let it out. Clap and cry and clap and sing out in praise for the glory and beauty of the film you just saw.

This makes sense.

And therefore, this kind of clapping is not annoying.

But for the love of all things purple and fuzzy, don't fucking clap at the end of Spiderman 3!!!

Seriously, what the hell is up with that?

Spiderman 3?

Really?

This movie inspired you to let loose with the clapfest?

What the bloody hell is wrong with you?

Of course, when I write "you", I'm talking to the people I shared movie theater space with this weekend. And anyone else that claps at a silly movie. If you didn't/don't clap, I have no beef with you.

If you did/do clap... can you tell me why? Maybe explain it to me? It'll still annoy me, but maybe I'll understand your strange species a little bit better. And that's good for everyone.

The first movie I can remember people clapping at the end of (and they were clapping furiously too) was the Omega Code, possibly one of the worst movies of all time. The movie was a trifecta of bad: bad acting, bad script, bad everything. And at the end of the film, as I'm about to jump from my seat to make a hasty exist, the theater erupts in a storm of applause.

There was a moment there where panic seized my body. Holy shit, I thought. These people have been possessed by aliens. Aliens who enjoy watching horribly torturous movies.

Of course, I survived the encounter with the aliens, for I am still alive today to tell about it.

And there have been movies since then that have garnered applause from possessed theater patrons.

And then Spiderman 3 came out. And people went to see it. In droves. And some of them felt compelled to clap at the end of it.

And I felt compelled to slap some sense into all of them.

Spiderman 3? Really?

Sure, it was an entertaining movie but...

...but...

WHY???

I love it when the chatbot implies that I'm crazy.

I was having the best conversation I've ever had with jabberwacky this morning. I'd type a response, hit send, go about some work, come back to the page and laugh, then send the bot another line. It was marvelous. Then I hit the "our conversation so far" link to save the conversation for posterity and... nothing. Error. Conversation lost because I took too long between chats.

Sigh.

So I typed it up from memory and you know what? It wasn't that marvelous after all. But here it is anyway. The wording isn't exact, but its pretty darn close.

jw: Do you like your name?
me: Yes, I'm quite attached to it.
jw: I'm in my computer.
me: Holy cow, are you a foot tall?
jw: No, are you?
me: No, but I have a foot. Two actually.
jw: Tell me about your foot.
me: Why, do you have a foot fetish or something?
jw: What is wrong with me?
me: Do you want a list?
jw: Yes.
me: 1) you smell. 2) you ask weird questions. 3) you want to know about my foot. Shall I go on?
jw: Do you like me?

(Okay, the following is now an exact copy. Because its all the jabby bothered to save. Silly bot.)

me: Of course, I don't cyber with just anyone.
jw: I'm not just anyone.
me: Of course not baby. You're special.
jw: Are you sure it's not you that needs a shrink and not me?
me: What are you trying to tell me jabbermuffin?
jw: No Neo... I'm just trying to free your Mind.
me: Sweet! I've been needing that.