grievance: thinking you can go to work after taking a red-eye l.a.-n.y. flight

What the fuck was I thinking? I must be absolutely insane to think that these events would or could lead to my being able to function this wonderful, rainy Monday morning:

9:15pm L.A.: Get to airport late for a 9:50pm flight;
10:30pm L.A.: Take off from LAX;
11:00pm L.A./2:00am N.Y.: Fall asleep;
11:00pm L.A./2:00am N.Y. - 2:00am L.A./5:00am N.Y.: Sleep really badly due to scary, scary turbulence;
2:15am L.A./5:15am N.Y.: Wake up in rainy, cold, grey New York;
4:15am L.A./7:15am N.Y.: Arrive home;
6:00am L.A./9:00am N.Y.: Get to work and make NO sense whatsoever, i.e. MAJOR SPEAKING FAIL.

So I fell asleep at 11:00pm, woke up after barely sleeping 3 hours and woke up at 5:15am in a different place? I don't know where I am or when I am and I feel like I may possibly be in an episode of Lost.

Help!

Judgment Fail.  Itinerary Fail.  Travel Fail.  Person fail.

-moon

raging out at... commuter nightmares

Yes, living in one of the U.S. metropolises whose residents commute to and from their destinations via public transportation can be considered a luxury. During my years in the sunny metropolis of Los Angeles, I can't tell you how many times I cursed the heavens, begging for a subway as I sat on the 405 picnicking on the hood of my car. Or how often I threw my car insurance bill in the trash and pretended that I instead would be using the PATH train to head on over to the paparazzi haven of Wilshire and Robertson.

Well, I take all those pleadings with God and delusional transportation desires back. Every last one. I've been back in my formerly-beloved NY exactly 3 months today and I'm over it. I would sell all the wondrous pizza and bagels and 4am bar debacles to have my old (often stolen) Nissan Altima back.

In the three months since I've been back, in addition to the pushing and shoving and generally foul body odor of other commuters, I have run into every one of the 5 commuters I despise. (Now here comes the part where I describe each and tell you just why they're a disgrace to humankind.)

#5 The Horrific PDA Couple
Let me state for the record that other than the occasional drunk lapdance I give a friend, I'm generally pretty opposed to PDA on a whole. I can live with your hand-holding and occasional smooching (unless I'm in a tumultuous boyfriend catastrophe of my own... in which case, those people can go to hell), but beyond that is a travesty and a bit of a nightmare. En route to some lower east side dive bar last week, my new roommate C and I were subjected to an absolutely vulgar display. On a very crowded PATH, the girl who may-or-may-not-have-taken-ecstasy was giving her boyfriend/fuck buddy/guy she just met a very blatant handjob. No one wants to see that. And plus, handjobs shouldn't be given over the age of 15. They're embarrassing. They're the Dungeons and Dragons of sexual acts.

#4 Friends Who Elect to Sit a Few Seats Away From Each Other
Now frankly, I don't care if you don't want to sit next to your buddy on the train. I need a break from some of my pain-in-the-ass friends sometimes, too. But do not elect to sit a distance apart when there are seats available next to each other and then scream a conversation about how the girl your brah' screwed last night may or may not have been cross-eyed. I will tell you what. I sat there and stared at said brah' and I can tell you she most definitely had to have been cross-eyed and also unbelievably blackout drunk.

#3 iPod Bastards
Headphones were made for a reason... so everyone else in the world doesn't have to sit and suffer through your playlist of various Miley Cyrus music, gangsta rap and bachata tunes in a language I do not speak. And without fail, I always end up next to these people at an obscene hour. Last week, I was next to bachata girl who was not only blaring the music but shimmying in her seat at 4am when I was hammered and trying my best not to put the remnants of a margarita all over her lap. Or this morning, some charmer listening to all kinds of Ride or Die when I had woken up at the obscene (for me) hour of 7am. I want these people to die.

#2 Psycho Man in Suit Who Is Whacking Off
Let me address the attire anger first by saying I do not enjoy anyone who likes to whack off on a train I am in, regardless of what they happen to be wearing. A few weeks back, in the midst of basically the worst week of my life, I was on a train heading to the fabulous and fun doctor, so clearly I am already joyful. On a moderately crowded train, I notice a man out of the corner of my eye with his hand down his pants. I silently prayed that he was just making a really public reorganization of his package situation. Yeah, not so much. Slowly but surely, this well dressed man unzipped his clearly expensive designer pants and went to FULL ON BUSINESS with his mini designer wang. I almost vomited and definitely teared up a little. And if you're exhibiting this behavior while wearing designer duds, I am definitely sure you are a serial killer. And I don't think I'm alone in not wanting to share a train with a goddamn serial killer.

#1 (And I have just decided these are in no particular order as I hate whackoff man the worst)
Bastards Who Will Not Move When It Is Your Stop
The subway makes multiple stops. This isn't a surprise. Nothing (again, besides whackoff man) angers me more than these people. On many occasions, I have had to forcibly shove people out of the way so I can get off at my goddamn stop . There have even been times when I have missed my stop because of people's inability to get the hell out of my way. I know it pains you greatly to let go of your germ-infested metal pole for even a second, but let me the hell off when it's my turn! I don't want to be around any of you nightmare commuters for one second more than I have to.

In closing... fuck the hell off, subway and PATH train.

-stars

grievance: cab drivers who talk too much

I got into a cab the other day and I was so hungover that I was pretty much still hammered until about 8 o' clock (Post Meridian) the next day. So naturally, I was already absurdly nauseated.

So the insane driving nature which seems to be a prerequisite to being a cab driver was already making me close my eyes, open the window and pray to not hurl everywhere. 3 blocks later, my cab driver decides to (attempt to) enter into a discourse with my inebriated ass. About complete and utter inanity. And was also not really even paying attention to what I was saying but kind of just enjoyed hearing himself speak.

As an aside, I'd like to say that I empathize with cab drivers. A LOT. They have an incredibly difficult job and are entirely under-appreciated. With that said, I had no use for this man at all. I was polite but also quite obvious in my lack of desire to communicate. I hate small talk as a general tenet. But he also got off on the wrong foot because he had music blaring when I got into the cab and didn't turn it down when I received a phone call. This also quite exacerbated my horrendous hangover (from) hell. ("From" is obviously used parenthetically in order to engender alliteration. ...Obviously.)

In any event... On top of this... My cab ride was 15 dollars from 38th and 2nd to 61st and Lexington due to this dude being a total moron. I was so angry by the time I got there.

And then I paid.

And... (this is the kicker) TIPPED HIM FIVE DOLLARS. For being "nice." For being "friendly." Because I felt odd giving an appropriate tip after having gotten to know a little about this annoying, annoying man. I never ever ever want to talk to people I don't know. And when I get forced to, such as how I was here, I'm angry about it. And then I apparently "reward" this dude by giving him more money?

How is this acceptable?

I realize now that this grievance should really be entitled "Grievance: My Stupid Ass."

-moon

grievance: baby taxi accidents

Getting into baby taxi accidents is quite possibly one of the most awkward things ever.

"What are 'baby taxi accidents'?" one might ask... oneself.

"Are they accidents involving a taxi cab hitting a baby carriage?" one might continue to sub-question... oneself.

"... Maybe it involves two very small taxis (thus "babies" in the taxi cab "community") hitting one another."

Or maybe none of such self-interrogation will occur because this matter is of no interest to anyone else but me.

So, I shall tell you. "Baby taxi accidents" are accidents when you are in a taxi, as a passenger, and a small accident occurs in which absolutely no one is hurt and there is very minimal damage to anyone's vehicles. The reason I choose "baby" to modify the magnitude of the accident is solely because if I say "woah! I just got into a small accident!" people immediately think I am injured.

All right, now that I've made it exactly clear (with absolutely NO digressions into silliness) to what I'm referring, I think it best to explain why this deserves to be addressed.

When you are in the back seat of a cab and there is contact between that cab and another vehicle, immediately the cab driver goes inSANE and jumps out of the car and you are rendered incapable of making a decision. Do you stay in the cab with the meter running? Do you get out and get another cab? And if so, do you pay for the metered fare thus far? Do you get out and try to help?

It is entirely the most awkward situation in which a human can be. If you're in your car or a friend's car, it's pretty clear that you're not getting out and leaving your friend stranded. But with cabs, you do NOT know this human being.

The other night, I got into a cab and was exhausted from work and just really needed to be at home. And my cab driver was successful in permeating through my callous and cranky disposition with conversational pleasantries. So when a car hit him, I was paralyzed by indecision. Thank the Gods of the Taxi and Limousine Commission that he had the decency to ask me politely if it would be okay if he dealt with the situation and I took another cab and then wished me a Happy Holidays.

Can someone please let me know what the protocol is for how to deal with this awkwardness when the cab driver simply walks away and screams at the other driver? Man!

Geez, I really have a TON of beef with cabs ("grievance: taxitv")! Maybe I should use public transportation more frequently. Oh wait, I have a ton of beef with the MTA too ("grievance: the mta")!

(Sigh.)

-moon

grievance: the worst airplane ride ever

Okay. I admit that part of the cause for what culminated in "the worst flight" in aviation history had something to do with me. I realized, the day before I was supposed to go to Puerto Rico for a much-needed respite from the world, that the looming paper deadline on the horizon was actually due the day after we were supposed to get back to NYC... at 9:45 A.M. And our flight was getting in at 1 A.M. So, I'd spent a bunch of "beach time" reading JSTOR articles about fallacious, semicompetitive village elections in China. (And had to spend FORTY THREE dollars on printing some of these out at the business center of our hotel. Meh.)

So... When I got on the plane to come back home, I was all kinds of prepared to just bang out this paper. And then the flight-from-hell began. The young man in front of me felt it was acceptable and appropriate to wail his arms about and yell in my face to get my attention (I was on my computer and had earplugs in so as to preempt any kind of vexing behavior by other jetBlue patrons).

"Yo, you gots a credit card?"

Bewildered and bemused, I told him that I did, in fact, have one.

"My buddy ain't got one and they not takin' cash and he wants-a get a drink. You put it on your card and he cu pay you back?"

Okay. This dude had already banged the hell out of his seat (which slammed into my computer on the tray table every time) and had been yelling like he was in a bar. But I thought "hey, this would be a nice thing to do." So I did.

Then the entire thing caused such a commotion that all of the flight attendants were in the aisle, trying to figure out this stupid situation. When I asked her for another tomato juice, she smiled and said "would you like some vodka with that?" I really would have. But the fuckin' China democratization paper. Ugh.

Then these fucking bastards essentially start jumping up and down like monkeys, laughing, banging seats. Acting like real classy characters. So I went to sit by the window.

Still fucking distracted as hell by the three d-bags, now there was also a woman in front of me sitting on her knees somewhat turned to her boyfriend, massaging him, and essentially staring at me. At first it was annoying. Then it was severely disturbing and creepy.

So, after all of these frustrations and only 2 pages of writing done, even with earplugs, I decided to take a mini nap and finish up later.

I woke up when they made the announcement that we'd be making our descent into New York.

The three d-bags were still acting like d-bags, so THAT was awesome.

I looked out the window and tried to calm down. After all, I'd just had an amazing and relaxing vacation: so relaxing a vacation was it that the only complaints I could think of (and I tried hard) were:
1. Grievance: The Terribly Annoying Noise of the Ocean Waves Crashing on the Beach
2. Grievance: Warm, Beautiful 85 Degree Weather in March
3. Grievance: Pina Coladas Melting Too Quickly in the Sun
4. Grievance: Having a Balcony
5. Grievance: Outlet Stores Closing Too Early
6. Grievance: Accidentally Falling Asleep Because You're Too Relaxed
So that's just a few. Not my best work, I concede. It's hard to be prickly in paradise.

In any event, just when I'm starting to calm down from the annoyance, there's some turbulence. I love turbulence. It's like a rollercoaster. I've never had a bad flying experience in my life, so I don't take it too seriously. But this went on for about 3 minutes and then got worse. And then it got really bad. And I looked over at one of the d-bags and he was praying. And I laughed. And then it got REALLY bad. And REALLY scary. And then I looked out at the wing and it looked like it was battling a fucking enemy. And it was pouring. I actually seriously thought the plane was going down and we were going to die.

I was sweating and shaking and about to start crying. When we finally landed, I was unbelievably nauseated. But I was also in some weird shock and was so anxiety-ridden that I couldn't even speak or look at lights. It was horrifying.

I was still in shock when we got home. So I started drinking Bacardi out of the bottle to loosen up to write the rest of the damned paper. I got myself to bed at 5A.M.

I have no recollection of what I put into the second part of that paper, so that should be interesting to say the least.

I regret I do not have pictures or video of the three d-bags, because I was so stunned by the experience I couldn't make it happen. I do however have a picture that will make you all, including myself now that I'm back in dreary New York, quite jealous.

From now on, I think I'm going to have to be one of those CRAZY bitches who pop a Xanax before they fly. Here's to unnecessary pharmaceuticals!



-caribbean moon

raging out at... 5am

5AM can officially blow my ass. It is never a pleasant experience, no matter from which side I hit it. 5 AM either means I'm exhausted or a few short hours away from a fierce hangover.

Today's 5AM is particularly evil. What's so particularly vile about this early morning terror? Well, let's take into account the fact that I moved 2 days ago so my sleep has been infrequent at best. (Especially when you add the facts that I consistently interrupted my packing to get drunk, go to shows, and watch Season 2 of Dexter [a little disappointing] into the equation.)

But getting up at 5AM to drive 4 hours to Las Vegas to attend a high tea... I have no words. I don't even know what high tea means, but I have no doubts it's nearly as intoxicating as it sounds.

Also currently rageful that Moon saw Hillary last night and Stars did not.

-stars

grievance: taxitv

There are very few problems I have with the concept of taxi-cabs. At the top of the list of merits of cabs may be the fact that I do not even possess a driver's license (and got my permit at age 19). A direct consequence of this is not having to elect a poor sap to be "designated douchebag" for the night. And I certainly love anything that facilitates inebriation. There are, of course, other aspects of the concept of taxis which I do love. However, concepts do not always pan out as intended.

In reality, a lot of cab drivers are assholes. And the ones who aren't ALWAYS want to chit-chat with you ONLY when you aren't in the mood to talk (e.g. when you're [spoken very quickly and in one breath, in my typical overdramatic fashion] rushing to school via cab because there is a test and you overslept and you need to take a last-minute look at your notes during the ride and the cabbie wants to ask you how to arrange 9 chairs evenly around a rectangular table [true story]). And there is simply NO polite way to say "shut the fuck up." None at all.

An even larger percentage drive like they're in a high-speed car chase or a car-simulation video game. However, I am not on the run from the police nor will I have another "life." I'm not a Super Mario Brother.

So now I present to you the newest thing to grace taxis - and the WORST since 1996 when they decided to install recordings to play when the driver would hit the meter. These were terrible because they were spoken either in a terrible Staten Island accent, telling you to "rememba to tsake you-wa belawngins when exsitin the tsaxi" or the one of which I have a blurry memory with, I believe, Eartha Kitt meowing or something and then, of course, reminding you to take your SHIT. I was in sixth grade so the memory is faded. Did Joe Torre do one... ?

Ladies and gentlemen, it's "TaxiTV." And it can go to hell.



It makes me furious. For those of you who have not been privy to (or forced into seeing) this atrocity, I shall explain. In keeping with (I suppose) the (unnecessary) technology of today, such as DVD screens in the backs of cars' headrests for children to be mollified, the Taxi and Limousine Commission has put fucking touch-screen "television" screens in the backs of taxicab partitions. This installation went hand-in-hand with credit-card-payment-ready cabs, and a GPS system. Why in the world the person in the back needs to see this screen, I've honestly no idea. (I'm going to break this aspect down because many people have claimed this to be the only real thing which can be defended):

A. If you get into a cab, you tell the driver where you're going and he takes you there. You don't tell him "make a right onto 56th street, then a left onto third avenue," etc. He knows. He does this for a living. Leave it to a professional. In fact, not only is this useless and erroneous information to give to a passenger, it's actually in some ways problematic, as it lends itself to "back-seat-driver"-ness.
B. You have to hit approximately ten buttons to get to the map. It's not even convenient.
C. You're in fucking New York City. Look outside your fucking window. Even if you're in an un-fucking-familiar neighborhood, there are big, green signs on EVERY SINGLE corner of the ENTIRE CITY. Not to mention, with the exception of certain areas, the city functions on an ordinal, numerical grid-system. Reaaaaally? You need GPS? Douche.

Okay. So, you may ask, what other useless shit is on there that makes you so vehemently furious, moon? Well, I shall tell you.
- Garbage, filler shit that has been deemed uncontroversial and vanilla enough, such as 5-second reviews of movies. Thanks. I learned a lot in 5 seconds, Jeffrey Lyons.
- Zagat fucking restaurant shit. Dude, Zagat is pretty much everywhere I go these. Leave me alone, Zagat. Who do you think you are? John Mayer? (See "raging out at... john mayer.)
- Weather. Someone told me that they liked the weather portion. My rebuttal: if you're in a taxi, you've already BEEN outside. You don't need to be TOLD what the weather is if you've already EXPERIENCED it.
- "Don't forget to..." as an "Ask the 'Locals'" bit, with "locals," of course, being celebrities like Julianne Moore or something. And the advice is like "bring the stroller, even if the kids say they want to walk." I don't have kids. And also, what the fuck? I feel like taking advice from your child is never a good idea. The other one I can recall is "bring an extra roll of film." Shut the fuck up. I don't like this because I don't like being told what to do. Especially not by celebrities. Espeeeecially when they don't pertain to me (not only do I not have children, but I own a digital camera).
- Random, skewed, couple-days-old news clips. Just as they're about to tell you some actual information, some shit like the "Taxi Rider's Bill of Rights" comes on. Yes, the yellow sticky thing that used to be stuck to the back of the partition. That used to be the ONLY information you needed. And if I weren't so fired up about TaxiTV, I'd write about the absurdity of granting "rights" to passengers.

I think I've made, thus far, a pretty good case for why this advancement in technology is silly and stupid. But if those reasons don't make you angry, ladies and gentlemen, the real reasons I am furious about TaxiTV:

Fucking inane and incomplete "headlines" on the ticker at the bottom of the screen. Is it not enough that you're in TRANSIT and watching television? You need another thing going on? Dude. Adderall has NO chance against these forms of gratuitous stimulation for people with ADD/ADHD. Or AC/DC for that matter. (Yes, people have AC/DC, clearly.)
I thought I'd share some with you:
- "6.4-Magnitude Earthquake Shakes Mexico." (Ummm - that's kind of important... You couldn't put that on the screen itself?)
- "Polls Open For Potomac Primaries." (Okay, this actually tells me nothing. Are you telling me to go vote? I don't live there. Let me know when there are RESULTS.)
- "Clinton Attacks Obama's Contributors." (This isn't really news. It's how campaigns work. She needs cash. Cooooool campaign manager, Hill.)
- "Homes Evacuated After Semi Overturns, Leaks." (WHAT???? Semi-what?)
- "5 Crossover Vehicles Named Best For Family." (Cool. Care to share which...? No..? Just wanna tell us that 5 exist...? Great. Thanks. )
- "100 Years Easier to Reach Than You Think." (I know, now, that there was some study done that essentially says we will be able to live longer than the past generation. However, this "headline" says nothing. Who is "you"? Who the fuck are they to tell me how difficult I think it is to reach 100?)
- "Britons Sound Off Against Anti-Child Device." (Do Brits hate children? Is that what this is saying? I feel like I'm on Jay Leno.)
- "Clemens' Ex-Teammates Dropped as Witnesses." (Why??? Damnit. I want stories here.)
- "Top Sports Photos of the Week." (Seriously now. What??? I even tried tapping it in the hopes that it was a link to said photos. Nope. Which I guess is actually fine seeing as this is non-news.)
- "Canadiens Player Accused of Stealing Purse." (This is actually fucking amaaaaaazing! A professional hockey player is stealing purses? Love it. This is the one thing I obtained from TaxiTV. However, I have no idea about whom they're actually speaking. Typical.)
- "Weird Chronicles: Modern Music Musings." (This isn't anywhere NEAR a complete thought, let alone piece of news. I do appreciate the alliteration of "Modern Music Musings." I, however, have no idea what this is TRYING to say.)

These "headlines" make me furious. I never thought I'd find something worse than the Post. I was wrong.

With all of this said, and I think I've made a lot of great points, the number one reason I want to have a duel to the death with TaxiTV's creator is...

LOOKING AT IT MAKES ME FUCKING NAUSEATED.

And most people with whom I end up in a cab fight me on it and repeatedly put it BACK on. It makes me actually need to hurl, like reading in a car on a hot day.

Fuck off and die, TaxiTV.

-moon

shit that sucks - subway edition

Please don't get me wrong. I love the subway and would choose it over any other mode of transportation our fine city has to offer. It gets me where I need to go inexpensively and quickly - and I love all things fast, cheap, and out of control. However in my attempts to use our underground transport system this morning to get from point A to point B, I've assumed a few new gripes and would thus like to address this letter to the MTA. (Please note: I'm writing this on my BlackBerry while riding the 6, J. Lo style).

1. Service changes on weekends - just because it's the weekend doesn't mean that you should feel free to mess with my subway service. Why shouldn't the V run on weekends, and why shouldn't the F stop at 14th street this weekend? Seriously - why is that okay? The L isn't running either, so the MTA has suggested riding the M14 bus instead. As much as I love the subway, I detest the bus. I'd rather ride a fucking camel.

2. My one man mariachi band on 14th street and 6th avenue on the uptown F/V platform (which I couldn't access today because of service changes, see above) - I love music. I live for music. Seeing Susan Cagle play in the Union Square station when I take the 4, 5, or 6 makes me really happy. As do drummers banging on buckets Bring-In-Da- Noise-Bring-In-Da-Funk Style, or even strange old women playing exotic Asian woodwind instruments - though I despise the instances when they're playing simultaneously, 2 feet from each other and not jamming with one another but rather each playing their own cacophonous shit. I love steel drum players. They transport me from waiting on the platform to being on a Caribbean vacation. What I hate is the dude that's taken up residence on my subway stop, exactly in the spot I wait for the train every weekday morning, playing Mariachi music on his guitar while beaming the most offensive shit-eating grin that says "yeah I know this is annoying you and I don't care." We need more subway accordion players like they have in Paris on the Metro that make me feel like I'm the male Audrey Tauteua starring in Amelie. Can we import some please?

3. The attempted humor of the MTA's educational signs - signs about not tripping on the platform, riding the subway while dying, not giving money to panhandlers, and (my favorite) not leaving your newspaper on the train, are not really funny. No puns like "the best news is a clean train. Throw out your newspaper" are amusing. In fact I leave my post on the seat of a V train every day in the hopes of saving some fellow straphanger 25 cents and informing them of Lindsay Lohan's recent falling-off-the-wagon-ness. As far as the other signs go - why are we telling people not to help out the homeless? And, really, do we need signs saying not to hurl on the train? If you're dumb enough to ride the train while profusely bleeding or gushing a pus rash you probably can't read that sign anyway, nor will you find a statement like "we want you to feel good when you ride" amusing.

Okay I've arrived at my destination.

Dear MTA,

Please take these suggestions under consideration.

Best,
Orion

Addendum - signs telling you to hold on to the poles in the subway cars and the rails on the escalator - I have the art of freestanding subway surfing down to a science and escalators really aren't that difficult to maneuver on. On the other hand, while I'm not a germaphobe I would reckon that those poles and rails contain more bacteria than a shitmonkey's asshole - yes a shitmonkey - and touching them should be acceptable only while wearing gloves or if it is the final challenge standing between you and a cash prize on Fear Factor. Even then I'd want a bathtub of Purell standing by.

-orion's belt buckle

shit that sucks: anti-malaria medication

I recently took a trip to the Dominican Republic. Lots of people go there for vacation. A lot of those people are pretty stupid, so I figured there were not real risks involved. I like to think that if stupid people can do it often it's a pretty safe bet. Like getting a learner's permit. Look around you. The people passing basically have trouble remembering to inhale and exhale regularly, so you figure that you'll be fine. So I thought nothing of going to a third-world country for a five day vacation.

Then my girlfriend began asking me if it was safe to take the cab from the airport to the resort, terrified that some rogue cab driver would kidnap two good-looking Americans and hold them for ransom (1 US Dollar = 38 Dominican Pesos). So I'm Google-ing "Punta Cana" and all of a sudden I see the CDC Website telling travelers to take anti-Malaria pills and be vaccinated for Hepatitis A. This is all well and good, except that this was all being found out 24 hours before my plane was to take off.

So my girlfriend managed to get ahold of her doctor (I don't really have one; I have a fear of them) who told her that she had to take them, as did I. So, I take the pill. You take one the day you leave for your trip, and then one per week for the next three weeks after your return.

What no one mentioned to me was that the pills screw with your sleep. You wake up almost every hour and have the strangest dreams. I mean weird shit. First I had a dream that I was in Malaysia being chased by cannibals who wanted to roast me and stuff me inside of a pig's intestines. Then I was unable to graduate college because I failed an advanced course on the quadratic equation (which is interesting because I have graduated college, and never once took a math course). What is weirder is that I've woken up unable to decipher the dream world from the real world. I rarely, if ever, actually remember my dreams, let alone waking up thinking they are real. Last night I dreamt that I was being forced to spend the day at Roseland Ballroom at a DVD authoring convention, and then woke up in a panic that I was running late for it, and couldn't believe that I would have to spend my whole day there.

I have two and a half more weeks of this awesomeness, and it sucks.

-orion's belt buckle