2012-11-29 09:48![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
digitaldiscipline
digitaldisciplineMy subconscious is a peculiar place. Dreamed last night that I was selected to submit writing samples to Cracked.com because I'd done something that triggered the solicitation; the metrics for this were pretty random ("You downvoted something that had 238 likes" is the only one I remember explicitly)... but instead of being run by the Cracked staff, it was run by Gabe, Tycho, and Gabe's girlfriend... from Penny Arcade. Note: not Mike and Jerry, Gabe and Tycho, the comic strip characters.
... who were living in the house next door to the one in which I grew up, and so I was wandering around the back yard with Gabe, talking about shit, before going up onto a big wooden back deck that never existed for some breakfast his GF was making, and with which I helped poach eggs, by cracking them into some shallow, boiling water and then attempting to scramble them with the sharp half of the egg shell I held onto. Then I tried, unsuccessfully and with increasing agitation, to get Gabe to answer a question I was asking, until I broke a folding lawn chair open, bent the metal frame in half, and started beating him with it.
[jump cut to...]
... being in an open-air bingo parlor run by a church of some sort, where I missed, by two squares, completely filling my bingo card on the first game, and then getting vexed on two or three subsequent games. Adjourning, we ran into a picket of protesters saying something about satan and [unspecified]... so I engaged with one of them to argue, and she said something that didn't fit in any context, and I asked her what she said, because it made no sense. "Could you rephrase what you're saying? I'm trying to understand what you're talking about." she pointed out that they were actually going to be suing Rand Paul for something or other, and then I woke up before being able to quote Napoleon's line about fame being fleeting, but obscurity is forever.
... who were living in the house next door to the one in which I grew up, and so I was wandering around the back yard with Gabe, talking about shit, before going up onto a big wooden back deck that never existed for some breakfast his GF was making, and with which I helped poach eggs, by cracking them into some shallow, boiling water and then attempting to scramble them with the sharp half of the egg shell I held onto. Then I tried, unsuccessfully and with increasing agitation, to get Gabe to answer a question I was asking, until I broke a folding lawn chair open, bent the metal frame in half, and started beating him with it.
[jump cut to...]
... being in an open-air bingo parlor run by a church of some sort, where I missed, by two squares, completely filling my bingo card on the first game, and then getting vexed on two or three subsequent games. Adjourning, we ran into a picket of protesters saying something about satan and [unspecified]... so I engaged with one of them to argue, and she said something that didn't fit in any context, and I asked her what she said, because it made no sense. "Could you rephrase what you're saying? I'm trying to understand what you're talking about." she pointed out that they were actually going to be suing Rand Paul for something or other, and then I woke up before being able to quote Napoleon's line about fame being fleeting, but obscurity is forever.
