I keep *telling* my stomach it's *fired*.

[snarp]

Wow. This shirt is not tight anymore. I lost weight.

...

*looks blankly at box of chocolates*

...And I'm too nauseous to celebrate in the logical fashion.

I guess I'll go to the cafeteria and see if apples will go down. *Again.*

I had a really complicated dream last night. There were mermaids, a labyrinth, a tin key and a golden key that both opened the same door, but to slightly different places, the ocean rising, the ocean boiling, a cyberpunk sewer with hidden control rooms from which an elderly couple work tirelessly to get the water back where it belongs, clones, I think a plague that kills birds, and a Canadian stereotype with one of those hats, played by Joe Don Baker. He saved the day.

My subconscious is unwontedly sarcastic.

Comments

[ladyringolane.livejournal.com]

My complicated dream involved flying rodents. Half of them were prostitutes and the other half were trying to bring about the Great War that ends the world. It kicks the ass of your complicated dream.

Also, when did you plague-proof your room?

[snarp]

Um. I don't know. When *did* I plague-proof my room?

Is this one of those jokes that ends with, Well, you *will* - once you see this funny time-travelling Mongol hoarde did to it! (You know, one of *those* jokes.)

[ladyringolane.livejournal.com]

No, it's just that Mom released some sort of plague to kill off the opposing rodent army and we hid in your room and were safe.

[snarp]

Oh.

You better not have messed with my stuff.