I had the strangest dream the other night. I dreamt I had written a book, and included a failed relationship for the main character based entirely on my experience with Jackass. Only in my dream, I had given him a copy of the manuscript. I don�t know why, either, because in theory, I hadn�t written it until after the fact, and it�s not exactly as if I was likely to give him much more than the finger in the aftermath of our relationshit (not a typo).
Anyway, in my dream, he finally got around to reading it (three months later) and was enraged to discover that I had used our �relationship� as a template, and his character was clearly represented in an unfavorable light (that light being the bright and harsh one of The Truth, as he was quite plainly a total dickhole in this matter). So he finally calls me up after three months and gets all indignant on me about how I told the whole story, and I was like, �Dude, it�s my freaking story too, I can write whatever I want, I didn�t use your name, and if you�re so concerned about looking like an asshole in print, try not acting like one in real life!�
And then I woke up. So I don�t really know what was to happen after that, but it was kind of like closure for me, and I�m happy with that. I think that the dream itself was due to some kind of weird, biological mojo going around or something. Like, I�ve been sleeping really soundly lately, but when I wake up, I�m still completely strung out. Like this morning, when I wandered around my bedroom for five minutes with my sheet draped over my head like I was the ghost of Teiresias or something, before trying to take off my pants and summarily falling on my ass.
I was going to try and fix myself a cup of caffeinated something-or-other, but I couldn�t figure out how to make it work (the cup), so I quit. Then I had to go put my contacts in. Have you guys ever tried to do that? Put your contacts in when you can�t really keep your eyes open? It�s exciting. Here I am, poking at my corneas at seven-something in the a.m. and simultaneously dozing off. Next, on ESPN!
And now here I am at work, pretending that the phone is really one of the Sirens (going with the Greek imagery, here), and that whenever it rings, I have to plug my ears and sing really loud so that I don�t hear it and either go crazy or jump ship and dash myself to pieces on the rocks. It�s nice, so far, but I�m becoming less and less interested in this stupid job as the days wear on. Which is why it�s probably a good thing that I have a feeling I�m going to lose it soon.
Joanie likes me a lot, and she wants to hire me, but I have a feeling Kent wants someone who is a little less�irritated by the inherent, boring nature of the job. During my interview, he even told me he was surprised I was expressing any interest in taking the job full-time, as he thought I always looked particularly bored here. Which I am, but that doesn�t mean I don�t want more money to do it (plus benefits -- it�s not like I�m impervious to all health problems, you know).
So Kent has been interviewing all these people over the last few weeks, and there�s this one girl in particular -- this perky, blonde girl -- who�s been back for about six follow-ups, and I have a feeling her hiring is imminent. Now, I don�t know for a certainty that they�re interviewing her for my job; they told me that they wanted to replace Annabelle before worrying about my position, and they haven�t done that yet. So maybe this Laura person isn�t after my job! In which case, I�ll like her.
On an unrelated note, there�s this big, freaky orange helicopter cruising back and forth over the harbor, and every now and then I see them toss something out of it. I don�t know what it is or what it�s doing here, but I�m not sure I like it.
