A Plot Twist in a Dream?

I had a sweet dream last night. It was like a movie. It starts off with a view looking down on a white sports car that was being chased by cop cars. The car is swooping in and out of traffic. At one point, it cuts off a red van which in turn holds up the cop cars temporarily. The sports car continues its escape and then I come to realize that I am the one driving the car. As I drive, I see that up ahead there is a spike strip and I slam on the brakes. Then I start spinning the car's wheels and turn the car to the left. More spikes. Turn to the right and more spikes. I look to where I came from and see that they have put more spikes down. I then hammer on the gas and try to dodge the spikes on the left and two of the tires are slashed. As I drive away, I realize that my car will be useless soon so I pull the car to the right and crash into the bushes. The scene cuts to me being brought to a prison and to a cop of some sort who happens to be my friend, Chris, who is supposed to ask me questions about the crime that led to the car chase. He is in disbelief that I could do something so bad. The scene then cuts to me being led to another cell where there are many other prisoners sharing. For whatever reason, it is a mixed gender prison. I try to go to sleep, but it is almost morning and I have to get up to get breakfast. Now, for some bizarre reason, they serve breakfast by bringing it to the cells on rolling serving tables and opening all the cell doors. In hindsight, that would be a terrible way to do it. Any way, people start crowding into the hallway to get food. I go as well and I see Monica.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I was driving the red van, remember."

"Oh yeah."

It is at that point that me in dream remembers that she was apart of my crime and that she apparently didn't escape either. I leave her and continue through the crowd where I run into Tyler, another accomplice.

"Tyler."

"Hey man."

We start walking up some stairs.

"Tyler, do you remember actually robbing the bank?"

"Of course, I mean you were the safe cracker and I was the gunman."

I should mention that this is the first time it was made known to me as the dreamer. I mean, a plot twist in a dream? That is awesome!

"I know that, but do you actually remember robbing it?"

"Not really, but I definitely remember the smells."

"Something weird is going on."

We have made our way up onto a football field where the inmates can workout and such. Tyler picks up a football and hucks it high into the air. We then notice the ball is going to land near some rough looking guys. We hold our breath hoping it doesn't hit them. The ball lands five feet from them and they look up at us. Tyler starts running away. I stand and watch as one of the goons take off after Tyler and tackles him down field. I turn back to the other head guy and see him marching with his eyes on Tyler. I start to run for the guy and jump up on him and start punching him in the head. The thug carries me towards the edge of the field which looks down on the rest of the prison. He is storming with anger and as he charges he attempts to throw me through the fence, but I hold onto him and pull him with me. We crash through the fence. He falls more or less straight down, but I fly outwards and just over the outer wall lined with barbed wire. Time seems to slow as I see him land on a flagpole and I glide over. I turn in the air and gently slow my fall and land on a small strip of land between the wall and the ocean. I then wake up.

That was like a blockbuster of a dream. I mean, what happened at the robbery? Were we intending to rob it or were we forced into it? Who knows? Literally nobody.

The Ancient Cyborg Sasquatch Who is Slated to Reappear When the Tree of Despair Has it's First Fruits Blossom

Know what would be awesome? A quest. Like a quest that involves a long trek and a sword and stuff. Wouldn't it be sweet for some old man with a scroll come up to you and say that you're apart of some ancient prophecy and that only you can defeat the ancient cyborg sasquatch who is slated to reappear when the tree of despair has it's first fruits blossom. I would go into Roger's and say, "Hey, I've got to protect everything that everyone holds dear...their lives". The first I would have to do is like, buy a cape and some sweet boots. Of course I would need to go retrieve the sword from like some under water grave where Socrates died fighting leviathan. And then with the sword I have to fight the leviathan, but now it's like a huge skeleton and I have to use my imagineering and magic powder and a gun to fight it. Of course, it wouldn't be a normal gun. It would be a gun that could fire my sword at bad guys.

Then at one point this guy in totally black ambushes me on a subway train and so I have to fight him to the death and it's this long battle and he slashes he in the face and so it gives me this wicked scar but it unleashes this hidden power and I just blast him with a lightning bolt out the side door and then he gets smucked by another subway train.

Wait, suddenly this whole scenario is not as feasible as it was at the start. Although the lightning bolt thing would be pretty awesome. Anyway, some sort of quest. Enough of this humdrum life. Where's my cape? Where's my obligatory sidekick? Or my rippling pecs? Maybe I should just go to the bar and pick a fight. I mean, if you can't find something good to do with your life, the only other choice is to hit on another guy's chick and then have a bar stool broken over your back.

And That's Why I Have to Kick Dogs and Kick Them Far

Am I a jerk? It's a question I wonder about sometimes. Especially if I have just returned from my weekly meeting of Dog Kickers and specifically when I won the award that week for furthest kicked dog. I mean, I joke a lot about being a jerk, but when I do stuff like that, I just think, maybe I am.

It's not that I wish ill any specific ill on anyone. General ill, yes, specific ill, no. And look at this blog. Half the time I'm getting angry at people and the other half is fantastical creatures. Which of course means that I am so angry that mere people are not enough to satisfy my rage, but then I also have to get angry at things that don't exist.

Maybe the problem isn't with me though. Sure, I have a lot of anger, but is it my fault that humanity can't step it up and be sufficient for my rage? Stupid world. Trying to make me look like a jerk. I'm not a jerk, I'm adorable. That's right, adorable. If you think anything else, you're just apart of the problem with this world. You're either for me or apart of the problem of the world.

Sure, there will be those logicnistas that will say that by me shifting the blame from me onto others and saying that others are the problem is really me being irresponsible and not owning up to my own shortcomings and mistakes. Hey, I'm the victim here, maybe you should lay off, but of course you won't because you're a world-hugger. You hate our freedom! You are trying to take away my inalienable right to be a guiltless victim! That's in the constitution. And some of you book-readers are going to tell me that it's not true. And you know why that is. Because they are apart of the problem and want to destroy everything good about the world. And you see that's why I have to kick dogs and kick them far, because this world is so messed up because of "them" that I clearly have no other choice but to do this. After all, I'm the victim. And if you disagree, then you're with the ones that are forcing me to kick dogs. You should be disgusted with yourself.

Not That I Would Punch You, But It is an Option I Want to Have at My Disposal

Facebook, WAYN, MySpace, I hate you all. I am tired of being inundated with e-mails whenever a friend or even some guy I met once is suckered into signing up and then an automatic e-mail is sent out. At first I thought it was because they wanted me to sign up to. And so I start filling out forms and making up passwords and I get on there and it is just a waste of time. Because once inside you can "customize" and search through millions of other profiles and bull crap like that. So now I gotta spend more time! And of course trying to find a person I actually know on these things is the equivalent of going into a crowded mall and shouting out the name of your friend, only to find out later that they've changed their name to "crazylittlefunbuns_00219" and now no longer acknowledge their existence. C'mon, you're killing me. Then I go and hang out with people and they are like, "oh, what's your MySpace" or "do you have a SlapHappyPictureTextHollapolooza!"

I technically do have a MySpace, I technically have a WAYN account, and I am about to be tricked into having a PoojeranSlickPeopleCircleMe account, but now I just say that I have a blog. That's it. And then I tell them it's on Blogspot. Then I have to for some reason defend the fact that I like the one blog and do not want to transfer to MySpace despite it's numerous options and gimmicks. I have one gimmick! Getting angry about things and writing about them to people that aren't actually reading the blog! I don't need people to see this. It's cool to be told that it's funny to check out and stuff, but I don't need to be a multi-media presentation. I don't believe that I will become a celebrity because of a stupid blog. I don't expect to meet friends on here. I don't want to. I want to meet real people. People that you would meet on MySpace to me is essentially meeting a fake person, because there is no true interaction. The only fake people I'm interested in meeting are robots! I don't know if cyborgs are included in the fake people category because of the whole half human, half robot thing. But I probably wouldn't want to be friends with a cyborg anyways. I mean, what are you? Robot or human? Make up your mind, we're at war!

Sorry about that. Talk about cyborg and their flip flopping always distracts me. Anyway, how I am supposed to get to know someone through text and pictures? I want to actually interact with others and at least have the option of punching you in the face if the situation warranted it. Not that I would punch you, but it is an option I want to have at my disposal. That is the advantage to talking to someone in person. You have that spontaneity. I don't want to depend on the lousy internet to maintain friendships.

"But you can keep in contact with other people that are far away" some would say and the first thing I have to say to them is how the heck did you sneak your way into writing in my blog! Secondly, e-mail, telephones and to a lesser extent telegrams are all fine methods for messages to far off places. Why do I have to maintain seven website profiles just to connect to people. I'll stick to my Blogspot and my g-mail address thank you very much.

A Cyanide Pill Gets You Out of Many a Hairy Situation

Ok, so I have had a request to finish my story from January 20th, 2006. That's a good a place as any to start up blogging again. I finally have my computer up and going and I am ready for the oncoming onslaught of blog action. In case you do not have my whole blog memorized via date, go ahead and refresh yourself on the story. I am going to pick up the story from where I am about to go on the pre-date with a girl who may or may not be aware of the fact I like her. The pre-date is a beautiful system that allows me to test the waters and see if I even see any potential without all the dramatics of official dates. Unfortunately, with the fact that the girl I am about to go out on a pre-date with is now potentially compromised, I am in uncharted territories. I take a cyanide pill with me in case things go a rye.

We wind up going down to the Forks (a grand Winnipeg landmark) and spending the morning together and it was ok. I knew that we wouldn't work as a couple or whatever. As a pre-date, it would have been perfect. I could have walked away and no hurt feelings. But alas, as she was driving me home, I knew that if she didn't know now that I had a crush on her, she would know soon. I had to do something otherwise this weird feeling would hang over the friendship. I didn't know what to do.

And then it came to me. There was only one way out. But as I was about to swallow the cyanide, a better idea came to me.

It was an idea that would resolve everything with no hurt feelings.

I turned to her and said in an apathetic kind of way, "Hey, so I wondering if you want to go on a date or something."

It was brilliant.

She said no. She dropped me off and that was that. It didn't hurt me because I didn't want the date anymore and she gets the benefit of not having to guess whether or not I liked her.

Of course, if you're reading this, it is quite arguable that I asked her out with intent and that I'm just giving you an excuse that makes it seem like I wanted her to say no. But I guess you will have to believe my word. And if you don't believe me then that's fine, a cyanide pill gets you out of many a hairy situation.

As a side note, I should that the other girl that I liked turned into another debacle worthy of a hilarious romantic comedy with out the romantic part.