You Call This A Dream! As my employer's glorious Operation: Thanks-for-making-yourself-obsolete nears completion, the flurry of activity around the office has gone into overdrive. For me that means it's time to start dreaming about work. I'm not talking about the company gone bankrupt and I have no job kind of dreams I've talked about before. No, it's time to dream about just plain working. Sitting at my desk. Doing stuff. Anybody who has had these kind of dreams can tell you that they're not that fun. You go to work, you come home, and then you fucking dream about it? Just the other night I dreamt about updating reseller tables...I don't even know what reseller tables are! On the bright side you at least get those fun dreamland twists that give a good story to tell the next day. Like the one where your desk is made entirely out of grapefruit, or finding that your feet are on backwards making it difficult to execute your task of driving the bus full of blind orphan children to the palace of the Donkey King for high tea. I got none of that going on. Zero. A big goose egg. I keep waiting to be in the midst of a deeply meaningful power-point presentation (something about boxes and the paradigms that may not be there because they're down on Grant getting plowed at that place that has a 2-for-1 happy hour) only to suddenly realize that I am stark raving naked with the exception of a jaunty pair of leg warmers. When I'm dreamily riding a hard deadline late into the evening, where is the Nordic concern of one dozen bi-sexual lingerie models who are trying to distract me via any means at their disposal? Nowhere, that's where. Dreaming is the adult version of Chuck E. Cheese's but instead of a kid being a kid an adult gets to shoot laser beams out of their eyes, live in a house the size of Idaho, and receive oral sex on demand (I'm sensing an unintentional pattern here). I want my Chuck E. Cheese's damn it. Something must be done. My best guess? An evening of spicy Thai food, porn, and the written works of H.P. Lovecraft. The results may well scar me for life, but at least I'll have interesting things to say the next day.
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