Dream Log: Between snooze alarms this morning, I had a crazy dream where I sorta became Ralphie from “A Christmas Story.” (It’s not as random as you think; the copy my mom sent me is sitting out in our living room.) It’s not like I was an 8-year-old boy; I was me but I was in the Ralphie role. You know what I’m sayin’. So it was Christmas morning and I got to play Santa for the family. My brother Anthony was in the Randy role, and he was squealing with excitement and Mom kept telling me to find a present for him. (My sister wasn’t in the dream, perhaps as punishment for leaving me yesterday?) And so I was digging through this massive pile of presents, but I just couldn’t find any for him. Or for me, for that matter. There were lots that weren’t labeled, and there were also lots from random aunts and uncles but never addressed to us. And my Dad just kept sighing and rolling his eyes, and Antny kept squealing, and Mom kept telling me to hurry… and I woke up.

Wow, Max gave me a shout out! But how the hell did he hear about the site so quickly? I’m guessin’ he saw a referral to his site from this one. Or else my alternate personalities are sending out promotional material that I don’t know about. 🙂

Speaking of basketball, you can head to this page to see a video clip of ND’s Ryan Humphrey doing an alley-oop slam, and vote for him to be “Dunk of the Week.”

Dream Log: (I stole this idea completely from brigita.) I dreamt I was home in the U.S. and just about to return to London. My sister was coming with me too, for a visit or something. We were getting a ride to the airport (on a Greyhound or something?) when I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t packed. So I ran back into the house and finished throwing stuff into my bag. By the time I got outside again, my sister was gone. (This parallels an actual incident in life where she got on the school bus and let it leave without me.) So I jumped in the car and prepared to drive to Chicago when I looked at my watch and realized it was 6:15 and I’d never make it for my flight at 7:00. Mom suggested I go to South Bend instead and then catch a flight to Chicago. I agreed, but I didn’t want to park in the longterm lot. So reluctantly Mom agreed to drive me. As we were pulling out of the driveway, I was on my cellphone trying to get a flight that would get me there in time. As I was double-checking my tickets, I discovered that my Chicago flight didn’t leave til 8:00. Relieved… I woke up.

I honestly don’t know how England can consider itself a civilized nation when it’s impossible to BUY ANYTHING past 6pm on a weeknight and 4pm on the weekend. In America, retail businesses realize that most people actually shop  when they’re not at work, which means that they’re open at hours when people can potentially visit them. For example, today Snookums and I headed out to look for coffee cups, bookshelves, and new winter coats. We managed to make it into one shop before they all closed. What’s up with that?! We had money to burn! And we were denied by the arcane belief that every worker needs to be home and clustered around the telly by 6:30 every night. And don’t even get me started on New Year’s Day – this place was DEAD! I crave the convenience of America’s 24-hour consumer culture. I guess all that’s left is the Internet…

I’m in the process of making some significant updates over at Roald Dahl Fans.com, so stop by if you’ve got time. I’ve got some new wallpaper for you to download as well as some more short story plot descriptions. Enjoy!