Oh, I got hot sause all over my bazito!

You know what this is? It's a brain sucker. You know what it's doing? Filing its tax return

If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent apple pie

The Adventures of Little Ed Brave

Tell airport security your name is McCannister because you can hide anything in a cannister.

You know what? Nobody notices when this changes anyway.

There are 10 types of people in the world: Those who understand binary, and STFU

What happens in a black hole stays in a black hole

The black hole draws you inexorably inward. Time slows. You are likely to be eaten by a grue.

I'd diddle little umdidlie... if she weren't my half-sister.

Abortion prevents pedophilia. In more ways than one!
Get Firefox!
I wrote a haiku

which I was about to share,

but then I thought, "screw it."
Level 1

Notice to all users of the Holodeck:

There are safety protocols in place that cannot be deactivated without the approval of two commanding officers or the captain to protect users of the Holodeck from potential harm. However, every time the Holodeck is ever used in a nontrivial manner, no matter what the safety protocols say, the Holodeck turns into a deathtrap.

Unless you believe yourself to be adept at constructing a forcefield from your communicator and 19th century Earth tools, or you're at the very least not wearing a red shirt, you are strongly advised not to attempt to use the Holodeck until a designer comes up with a safety protocol that doesn't kill you whenever somebody looks at it funny. Even when you're not on the holodeck. Or in the same quadrant. Or time period.

In fact, if you are wearing a red shirt, Starfleet may not be the job for you


Category: Dreams of a phenytoin addict

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Kitten Cake

Permalink 01/09/09 at 06:44:02 am, by Ed, 192 words   English (US)
Categories: Media, Dreams of a phenytoin addict

I bet my dream was stranger than yours.

A large portion of it took place backstage in what can only be described as a pile of people. But that has nothing to do with the interesting part.

The interesting part starts in a bedroom, whose only distinguishing feature was a Victrola in the far right corner from the bed. Bridget and I were eating some Cat Cake (take a dead cat, build a cake on top with some fruit an' stuff, freeze until ready to eat). We had two boxes, one with the cat cake, and a smaller cake came in the other box on top.

We didn't eat the cake on top for aHwile, and instead went to bed. When we woke up, I saw a small caterpillar-like thing crawling around on the sheets. I shooed it away under the bed, at which time it grew into a small kitten. Apparently, the smaller cake had fetus-kittens in it. It thawed out because we had left it out, and the fetus-kittens escaped and suddenly, poof, now we have a kitty! Yay! I will love him and squeeze him and call him George.

Happy Life Day!

Permalink 12/23/08 at 06:54:50 am, by Ed, 165 words   English (US)
Categories: Work, Dreams of a phenytoin addict

Today is my last day of work before my Life Day* break. I get a 12-day weekend before I go back, which is not too shabby. Finally, some time to play with my Wii. Oh, yeah. I have a Wii. Also, my company gave me an iPod Touch for Life Day, which is pretty nifty. Who needs a cash bonus when you get a free fricken' iPod Touch!?

Some day I'll get to posting about some of my strange dreams recently again. I remember there was a lion, a transvestite, and more being in high school. You'd think those dreams would go away after not being in school for awhile, but you'd be wrong (I am referring, of course, to the transvestite dreams. I knew a lot of gay people in school).

* - I know, Life Day was originally a harvest festival rather than a solstice festival, but it's grown that way, and everybody thinks it is anyway, and there's no closer Star Wars holiday.

When Worlds Collide: Part II

Permalink 12/13/08 at 08:09:18 am, by Ed, 422 words   English (US)
Categories: General, Dreams of a phenytoin addict

I'm not sure if this should go on the Wedding blog or my blog. So I put it on both.

The short version: Bridget and I were dress shopping for the wedding. Wedding ensues.

The long version: I was playing Metroid Corruption 3 last night, and the area outside the dress shop looks an awful lot like the Space Pirate Mining Facility. Michelle Obama was outside the store to greet us and bring us in. We stood in line, several girls in front of us. They all seemed to be part of the same group, as they all left at once. We got to the desk and discussed some options for dresses. None of them were white, and absolutely none of them covered more than half the body.

After the lady at the desk came back with the first dress for Bridget to try on, she put it on (with some difficulty) and liked it so much, we decided to get it. So Barack Obama (the owner) came out and we went over the paperwork. Turns out you need a president(-elect)ial pardon to get married now.

Then we got to the wedding. It was in a gigantic empty barn. I'm not sure who, or what, the minister was. We were never actually at the altar (there being no altar). And there were certainly no pews. It was more like... Woodstock, or something. Not the performing, but the audience, just laying out on the grass, not necessarily paying attention to what's going on.

Bridget had a large, maroon air mattress out on her side of the aisle and was laying on it with her mom and some friends. I convinced them to drag it to the center, near the aisle, so that I could at least be near my side of the aisle if I was going to lay on the air mattress with her and her friends. I wanted to feel accepted as in her group of friends, after all.

I don't think there was actually any ceremony. Just a bunch of our family and friends laying in a large field under a barn roof, talking.

You know how strange other customs are... You do some ritual they're really giddy about, like place a kumquat on the grave of some old guy's favorite cousin, and suddenly you've got seven wives. Well, by our customs, the meeting of two families wherein nobody gets killed is close enough to a wedding that we could now claim tax-exempt status. Barack Obama told me so.

What Dreams may do on a Sunday Night when they're bored

Permalink 12/01/08 at 06:25:09 am, by Ed, 438 words   English (US)
Categories: Media, Dreams of a phenytoin addict

For ahwhile lately, my dreams have been so very pedestrian or entirely disenchanting about the politics of dream world. They usually end up being the sort that relegate the telling to the back of the line of Seedless Grapes.

But some strange set of circumstances involving going to bed too late after having three Thanksgivings in as many days, and having just tired yourself out by playing far too much of your brand new Wii, coinciding with the hysteria brought on from traveling across the state every day and, of course, the phenytoin sodium, leads to... issues.

The most important part, I suppose, happens after a bunch of the normal dream stuff. You know, nude gay porn (Surprisingly not NSFW, which, I guess, is SFW), or whatever it is normal people dream about. It was when I was playing a game on a computer in a pitch black room. I had a life signs detector (in the game) and found two tubes with some strange readings. Upon opening it up, I found a fetus. So I squashed it. Then another was dropped down from the tube. And that one was harder to squash, but I eventually managed. Then, an alien baby pops out (although they are all in pods, I can tell, because I have X-Ray vision. Not in the game, mind you, just in real life (in the dream) which allows me to see through pods in a video game). After squashing that one, a large electrical beam pops out, and I am confused. Is it something sitting in the tube, or is it now stuck to my face? As I move around in the game, there is now this blue line that looks like a bolt of lighting stuck to the upper left quadrant of the screen. Then another few pop out and it creates a triangle.

Things start to get strange as the background fades out and evil laughter comes from the speakers and dark faces appear on the screen. I finally reach the power button on the monitor, but the blue lines done go away. I felt the screen, and the blue lines have created physical indentations on the screen. Of course, I'm annoyed, because that was a perfectly good monitor, but now I have no idea why that blue lightning is still there.

Then I woke up to find that it was in fact the edge around the blinds of the window I was staring at.

So apparently, I have learned to sleep with my eyes open, although it doesn't help because even when I DO see something, I don't wake up anyway.

Republican Documentary

Permalink 09/21/08 at 07:17:49 am, by Ed, 235 words   English (US)
Categories: Dreams of a phenytoin addict

My dream last night involved various locations, the most important of which was at my brother Ben's house (which in fact looked like my dad's house on the inside). Inside, my brother Joe was making a documentary on a very important portion of the Republican Party's propaganda juggernaut: The Republican Balloon Design Committee.

While being interviewed, the representative said they were attacking on three fronts: the first of which was little elephant balloons. Nothing much to say here. The second was nose balloons. Basically, it's this box with holes on the sides and the back. You put your nose in the hole in the back, and blow out. This inflates the balloon inside the box, forcing it out the holes in the sides. This, of course, was the flagship product of the RBDC. So much so that they never had time to get to the third product, so I don't even know what it was.

There were other portions of the dream, which involved my brother Ben and I driving, and the car kept drifting to the right, about to run into the wall on the side of the bridge, or the cars next to us, every time Ben looked at the map. Not that I think Ben's driving is bad, but I think recently, every time I've been in Ben's car, we had the map out. I was looking at it, though. Not Ben.

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