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

Pages: << 1 2 3 4 5 >>

Only 6, 8, and 12, please

Permalink 09/19/08 at 06:57:31 am, by Ed, 356 words   English (US)
Categories: School, Dreams of a phenytoin addict

I had a very long, convoluted dream last night. I believe I was in a group of students being tested for our general intelligence and how well we can find solutions to problems and how good our memory is, etc.

I think Frau Rolling was in charge, which is kinda weird because I haven't had her as a teacher for six years. But that's not all. At one point, we were told to "only pay attention to 6, 8, and 12", which we didn't know what that meant at the time.

Much later, I was in a room with one teammate, and we had to answer questions. Or, we assumed so anyway, it's all very mystic. They just shoved us in a room, and we had to first of all find out what to do in there.

There was a pull chain, so we pulled it, and that turned on an overhead projector with 12 questions on it. We worked through them slowly (one of the questions: How can you tell if a person in a fur coat is about to turn right?), and we got about half-way through before somebody announced our time was up. Everybody else came in, who had gone through the same challenge, as did Frau Rolling, and then mentioned that she had previously said to only do 6, 8, and 12, if you recall?

Apparently by that time, nobody had recalled, because they all did the same thing we did, and stumbled through the hard problems. Numbers 6, 8, and 12 were really easy questions though. We all felt kinda stupid at this point.

I wonder if this came from an experience I had in 6th grade, which was similar (a page full of instructions, the last one being "only do this instruction, and none of the other ones" and we were told to read carefully the entire page before beginning) or from a blurb I read on Penny Arcade at the bottom a few days ago?

By the way, if you're wondering, a man in a fur coat always shows small signs of his body beginning to turn, which cause the fur to ripple, before he actually starts to turn.

A single clue

Permalink 09/12/08 at 06:24:49 am, by Ed, 100 words   English (US)
Categories: Dreams of a phenytoin addict

I had a dream last night which was not too strange. It was in the Reif Center, but the audience area was a football field. And there was an old woman performing on what I can only assume was the stage (which was off house-right, which technically redefines house-right, but that's not the point) wherein she took a pile of rubble and turned it into a table set with a picnic lunch. It was more of a movie than a show, actually.

Later, somebody showed up and gave me a single piece of magnetic poetry as a congratulatory gift:


Dentist? What's that

Permalink 07/13/08 at 05:44:03 am, by Ed, 72 words   English (US)
Categories: Media, Twins, Dreams of a phenytoin addict

So, I've noticed that I've lost my teeth in at least three of my dreams as of late. I don't know what it could possibly be trying to tell me.

Also, the following picture came to me via Facebook. It's not my own creation, but it's sure worth a look.

I don't remember where I've seen the one on the left. The one on the right is a classmate from High school.

911 Emergency

Permalink 07/11/08 at 06:07:28 am, by Ed, 361 words   English (US)
Categories: Dreams of a phenytoin addict

I called 911 for the first time ever last night...

in my dream.

You see, I was in a jewelry shop in the Mall of America, (more of a jewelry counter than a whole shop) and I was about to start walking along the counter to browse, but in the first section, I saw both of the necklaces that I wear sitting in there (note: I only wear one necklace).

I made a comment about it, and wondered if I could get mine cleaned and resharpened. They asked me where I was from. I began telling them my address, and they said, something along the lines of, "no, I don't need that." I asked him why they needed to know where I was from then, but he wouldn't answer me. I asked a few more times, getting more annoyed each iteration, but he just wouldn't give me the answer.

Finally, I picked up a chair outside the shop, and said, "you better tell me, buddy." At this point, I faked a move to break the glass on the outside of the jewelry shop (not the counters themselves) but didn't stop myself in time and the glass shattered.

The guy, at this point, was more than a bit miffed with me. So he took the only natural course of action: He picked one of the shards of glass, grasped it tightly, cutting his hand, and stabbed himself in the chest. He then removed it, and in slow motion, I pulled out my cell-phone as he stabbed my mom in the chest just when I called 911.

"I have an emergency"
"There's been a break-in at the jewelry store in the mall of america and two people have been stabbed"

They must want a quick turnover at the call center or something. There was much racing around the mall, and Quagmire showed up with a "Nazi Tan" (a tan in the shape of a swastika... don't ask), and I don't think the ambulance ever came while I was there.

At least I got it over with. Now I can feel confident calling 911 in the future. It won't be my first time any more.

What light through yonder Yorick, I knew him well

Permalink 05/27/08 at 07:22:52 am, by Ed, 268 words   English (US)
Categories: Dreams of a phenytoin addict

The dreams have returned

Wherein, I was back visiting my high school, and nobody was cast as the role of the phantom for the Phantom of the Opera play the high school was putting on, nor did they have any costumes, and the first of three shows was the next day.

So, they gave me the script and told me to find a costume. I would have said no, but the director was my Software Engineering professor, and I didn't want to disappoint. However, I did have to go back home later that day.

The performance was to happen on Weber stage (which, incidentally, is about an hour or two away from the high school), and TTG was trying to convince me to play the role, but I stood adamant that I could not, even though I had already found a costume and memorized all the lines (yeah, I'm that good).

As I walked through the halls of the high school, I bumped into somebody I knew and we began talking for a minute about the play, and somebody else came by. "Oh, you're the guy, huh? Say one of the lines from the play!"

Okay, I thought. "What light through yonder window breaks?" I said.

"Oh, is that from Phantom?" they asked.

"No," replied the one I knew, "It's from Hamlet."

I don't know if it's a sign of the declining knowledge of the arts in America, or just some of the stupid people I know from Grand Rapids.

Oh, yeah, I have graduated and moved into an apartment in the cities now. Work starts June 2nd.

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