Right now, the phase could be called: "I'm Finding Out the Most Super Annoying Parts of Your Personality".
For example, J is finding out that you can't wear pants if you are under either the sheet or blanket, and that I wash the bedspread every three days because of the sock fuzz he leaves all over my yellow sheets.
And I'm finding out that J has a taste for flavored cigars and moonshine, which he and our neighbor have been brewing in the garage next door.

Among others here's a list starting with me:
- Won't touch shoes
- Gag/barf when cleaning out shower drain
- Hate lint/stray threads, won't touch it
- Grossed out by cleaning the lint filter on the dryer
- Can't scrutinize water too closely, or won't drink it
- Must have shoelaces covered, or wear shoes without them
- Dread being left alone at any party without anyone I know to talk to

J:
- Complains a lot about me not standing up for myself
- Sometimes drives like a maniac (see: 120 mph on the expressway, racing his GRANDMA)
- Smokes flavored cigars
- Has voice which carries, especially when swearing
- Cannot whisper
- Chews on anything that fits in his mouth
- Mr. Mingle at gatherings, will leave me alone at a table full of people I just met, while he wrestles. Also, can never pick a time to leave the gathering. Or picks a time, and then forgets.

In light of these discoveries, we have been rather snippy toward each other lately.

 Struck me as fitting, while watching TV this morning.



   

I can't really describe the two dreams I had last night, because I suspect there was no strict plot. Here are some keywords and phrases: the high school I work at, except in the jungle in a different country; monkeys; a play about wax figurines of the Seven Dwarves; my brother and I live on the run and were hiding in the school; secret passages seven floors below the building; an argument over a projector (reflective of events at work); a bus strike, with seething masses of pissed-off bus drivers (my 10th grade English teacher was on the picket line for some reason), angry parents picking up their kids, and students throwing things and lighting fires; a freakishly tall, skinny Gary Rardon, and John Dillinger coming back to life and crawling out the ground behind the school, ready to fuckin' kill our asses.

The very last bit? Is a sequel. I swear, it happened just like sequels do when the people making the first movie know there will be a sequel. Also, I think I dreamed that because I watched a show on him on the History Channel. And I ate FlipSides Pretzel/Cheddar crackers at like 3am and went back to sleep.
Obviously, I will never need drugs to get this effect. I read a lot and eat late at night. That is enough to fuel my awesomely messed-up dreams, forever. And might I add, they were cinema-quality suspense/horror dreams. It was amazing.

I just got my new EVGA 9500 GT video card. It's gorgeous.
I may be away from the Internet for a bit.

I understand the thing with eating everything and having dreams about nachos and cheese. But making me cry during Big Love because Sarah lost her baby? Totally uncalled for.