So I’m babysitting their kids, and the kids are over playing in their station wagon. I don’t know why we’re outside, but the minivan flashes its headlights at me, and here’s where my actual brain comes into the picture, because this was one of those dreams where I felt like I could actually interact.
I remember reading something, somewhere (and I can’t actually remember if I “remembered” this in a dream prequel, or if I’d actually read it somewhere in real life), where researchers had determined that cats interpreted a certain sequences of blinking to mean “I love you”, and I thought maybe the same sequence would mean the same thing to the minivan.
So I tried it with my Celica’s headlights, except apparently I said (”flashed”) something really rude, because the minivan yanked its emergency brake and committed suicide by rolling backwards down a steep hill and exploding against a tree.
Meanwhile, my friends had just gotten home and were more upset to find their minivan raining down upon us in shredded metal, plastic and fabric, than to find their infant children pulling wheelies in their Volvo.
Say what you will about my Lego Hogwarts — compared to this, a film-accurate model of the castle as seen in the motion pictures made out of matchsticks — mine is child’s play.
And speaking of all things Harry Potter — Danielle hat-tipped me via e-mail to the existance of a Harry Potter scholarship. Check it out!
Merv, the new idiot pot-smoking retard at the Indy, told me: “I had a 3.8 GPA in high school, I’m not as dumb as I act.†Then James came over and asked him if he’d made the carryout’s sub: the one that had come in ten minutes earlier and who was waiting in the lobby. The answer to that was: No.
I told James what Merv had said, y’know, the whole, “I’m not as dumb as I act†bit, and we both laughed. James said, “Y’know, he was home schooled.â€
