Potpourri I

I decided to combine a few post ideas that were not long enough into a single post. Why? Because I steal from C/K. I even stole the idea to start a blog from him.

One of my duties as a hotel night auditor is to print out the receipts for Choice Privileges customers and slip them under their doors. Traversing from one room to the next, quietly slipping receipts under doors, I wondered if this was what it felt like to be the Tooth Fairy. In any case, it has similarly creepy connotations: I am slipping things under other things for you to find while you are asleep.

Last night I not only read text in my dream, I made a play on words! I think I was looking at someone’s online username and they were an Olympic swim fan, because the word displayed was “Lochtepus.”

I have never heard that one before (only “Lochtess Monster”), so I am taking this opportunity to praise my subconscious’s cleverness.

CNN keeps referring to tonight as “debate night in America.” Because of the phrasing, I now have “Tennis Night in America” stuck in my head.

To bring things full circle, Ryan Lochte will be appearing in the final(?) season of 30 Rock. If anyone can make his stilted, wooden personality entertaining, it’s them.

30 Rock Soundtrack:

Amazon

Google Play

iTunes

"...5, 6, 7, 8!"

I just woke up from an elaborate dream with mid-budget musical sequences about the (non-existent) salt mines of Pittsburgh, indie videogame development, elevated public transit, and falling for a girl who may or may not feel the same way.

While I cannot remember any of the songs, I remember them having actual lyrics. This feels like something that should not happen in a dream. When you read lucid dreaming guides, they recommend doing things that require a certain permanence not usually present in the nocturnal imagination to determine if you are dreaming—looking at your hands, gazing into a mirror, checking a clock for the time, trying to read text.

However, that last one is of note to me because in two fairly recent dreams (one was just a couple of days ago) I successfully read signs. What do these peculiar developments in my dream life mean? The optimist in me is promoting the idea that this is a sign that I am gifted in language arts. The rest of me, however, feels that particular explanation is a delusion of grandeur.

To make things even more surreal, I wish I had a Snuggie right now. We have one (a stunning cheetah print item), but I cannot find it, and I’m trying to use my arms to type while covering my torso with a blanket!

Pictured: journalism.