Today's post is dedicated to the one and only Phil Monger. For those of you here who already know Phil, I'm sure we can all agree: Oh, dear god –– must we have even one? For those of you who don't know Phil, suffice it to say he loves eating all kinds of properly made cake and touching things made out of Bakelite and following me on Twitter. He also has a very strong opinion as to which version of the USS Enterprise is the superior model, as illustrated in the following series of tweets:
Blah, blah, blah. Don't even get him started about carrot cake.
And while I know this particular piece of information seems to have nothing to do with anything right now, you'll just have to take my word for it that this will all make sense once you get to the main point of this post. HAHA – good one! Like there's even going to be ANY kind of point to this post. Why would I start something like that now? I WOULDN'T. Anyway, chances are good that Phil's favorite Enterprise isn't going to appear anywhere here today, which just means he's going to end up very, very disappointed by the time he finishes reading, and oh hey! It'll be just like it's always been for every single one of you who's ever read anything here!
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In the interest of remaining current, it should be noted that while I was slapping together writing crafting this post, Phil suddenly changed his Twitter avatar to the following image, rendering the above screen shots slightly out-of-date:
NO ONE DOES.
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Welcome back, everyone! Today we'll be getting dreamy in a post all about a dream I recently had. Because if there's one thing I know about blogging, it's that people love it when you blog about your dreams. Although not as much as when you blog about your cat, of course. People REALLY love it when you blog about your cat. Right, Phil? So, actually, I know a lot about blogging. Now that I think about it. I mean why else would Um...What?? be totally taking over the interwebs the way that it...oh never mind I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT BLOGGING. Or anything else, for that matter.
Anyway.
As many of you are aware, this blog's favorite Mr. Farty recently went to an airshow. It was full of many uplifting, wild-blue-yonder types of things like planes and flying and more planes that are different than the first planes I mentioned, you know, probably (I really have no idea –– I'm not Amelia Earhart) (currently) and hundreds of people standing around craning their necks and pretending to enjoy themselves while actually wondering how many minutes away they are from certain, fiery death. YAY! Let's go to the snack bar! So, after the show, Mr. Farty posted about this outing on his blog and then I went and read about it there because I read only the web's best blogs –– a motto you people obviously don't subscribe to –– and then after that I went to sleep and tra la la brain waves this and yadda yadda yadda REM sleep that and then TA DA! Chris and I went to an airshow too! Inside a school gymnasium. Which, of course, doesn't make any sense at all until you stop to remember that my brain is a uniquely wondrous and amazing place. (You: WTF?) OKAY. OR IT ISN'T. Whichever.
And with that I present to you:
The First-Ever* Um...What?? Dream Sequence!!
Boldly Going Straight Down The Drain Along With Everything Else In This Blog
(*Quite possibly also the last-ever Um...What?? dream sequence, depending on whether or not I ever remember to do another one which I probably won't on account of most days I don't even remember that I have a blog. I APOLOGIZE.)
Chris: Come on –– we're going to an airshow!Me: An airshow? I don't have time to go to an airshow right now. I'M VERY BUSY.
Chris: With what? You're just sitting there. Twirling your hair around your fingers and staring off into space.
Me: THAT IS NOT THE POINT.
Chris: Well, what is??
Me: (more blank staring) Uh...
Then the scene changed abruptly from the above intellectual battle of wits –– which I was clearly winning by the way –– to the inside of a school gym, where something I previously hadn't noticed came immediately to my attention:
Really, this particular part is not all that different than my real life as you don't even KNOW how much time I spend wondering if Chris has had some part of his brain removed. Trust me: You'd wonder, too.
And then we climbed up to the top of the bleachers to sit down to wait for whatever it was I was supposed to "see," only I was having a lot of trouble concentrating because for some reason I was starting to get really, really sleepy and I'm sure it was probably because I'd been up for too many hours or something and not because Chris was going on and on and on and on and the sound of the blah blah blahblahblah was slowly lulling me into a coma, but every single time I tried to rest my head on his shoulder just for, you know a teeny tiny second, he would rudely and painfully punch me IN THE NECK and one doesn't have to be Freud to figure out what that symbolism means (NEVER MIND) and of course I kept trying to explain to him over and over that I was tired and could he please stop being such a jerk but he just kept yelling that I was going to "MISS IT" which just left me confused and wondering what the hell could be worth so much aggravation and then this happened:
And we didn't even get decapitated!
Sorry, Phil. But this is the Enterprise that was in my dream, so this is the one I have to use in this post because I strive for realism and accuracy around here. Obviously. This is a little something I like to call Blogging With Integrity.
The USS Enterprise NCC-1701 had suddenly appeared inside the gym (I DO NOT KNOW), zooming around and around over our heads and even though it turned out to be the only thing in the entire airshow it didn't even matter, because when someone's managed to arrange for the USS Enterprise NCC-1701 to fly around over your head, you don't really need anything else because anything else would just be a complete and total letdown anyway, unless maybe it was that balloon from the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade that looks like Mr. Potato Head but really, probably not even that would cut it.
Cinnabon, anyone?
The last thing I remember about the dream is that right before I woke up I started looking excitedly all around the gym for Maureen, because I just knew she'd be totally interested in SEEING THE STARSHIP ENTERPRISE UP CLOSE!! Which, if you've been around here for any length of time at all, you know is completely absurd, because if given the choice Maureen would probably rather do just about anything else in the whole, entire world before intentionally trying to see the Enterprise up close –– including but not limited to drinking lighter fluid by the gallon and removing all of her skin with a cheese grater. Her feelings on the subject of all things Star Trek can be seen in the following exchange between the two of us which totally happened EXACTLY AS I'M RECOUNTING IT HERE*:
*Except for how we might have been out to dinner instead of on the bridge of the Enterprise and how she did actually know the people we were with (at least during the early part of the night when she was still relatively sober) and except for how I believe her exact words on the matter were, "I'D RATHER BE DEAD THAN GO SEE THAT MOVIE." (Also? Once I said, "That was Star WARS and not Star TREK" and she said, "Whatever. Same difference." I. KNOW.)
THE PATHETIC END.
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P.S. Also, as some of you may already be aware, Jose recently challenged me on Twitter to get this post up by midnight. Midnight last Saturday. Obviously I came really close because it's only Sunday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday OH CRAP WHATEVER. In my own defense, the fact that I lost totally wasn't my fault. That day when I sat down to finish, the electricity suddenly went out and then stayed out for like thirty seconds a REALLY LONG TIME and then after it finally came back on, Typepad briefly went down and by Typepad briefly went down I mean I logged off to play three-and-a-half hours of Lego Star Wars on my laptop. And then shortly after that I realized my Princess Leia wig was at the dry cleaners and how was I supposed to pose for reenactment photos with Chris at the local high school gym if my Princess Leia wig was at the dry cleaners? EXACTLY. And, of course, then I had to watch "Warbirds" on SyFy because I'd missed its original airing and had been waiting weeks and weeks to see it and trust me when I tell you that both the dialog and the acting were so catastrophically tragic that I made immediate plans to watch it at least half a dozen more times, which really has nothing to do with anything here because what was I talking about again? OH! My bet with Jose. And then Maureen popped up on my Blackberry and we spent some time talking back and forth about rollerskating as in "if we go to a rink in a few weeks do we need to practice first on the off chance we might accidentally die if we don't?" (Decision reached: YES WE DO; DEATH IS SCARY.) Then The Porcupine called and oh mahhh gahhhh speaking of death somebody please help me and after I recovered from that I got somewhat confused and disoriented playing a game of Mousey with Gus who kept changing the rules on me without bothering to explain any of them and how was I supposed to win a game under circumstances like that? NO ONE COULD. And then before I knew it, it was 12:01 AM and the only thing I'd written all day was, "Welcome back, everyone!" Which still seems kind of impressive until you realize that I put that line in just about every post.
P.S.S. As I was FINISHING this today, I noticed the following comments popping up on Twitter:
P.S.S.S. I love and appreciate all of you people so much it's ridiculous. For real.
P.S.S.S.S. If you haven't already, please wander over to Mr. Farty's place to congratulate him on the arrival of his new granddaughter, Baby Farty, who may or may not have been born AND conceived during the writing of this particular post.
