(no subject)

Manohman.

I don't want another night like that. Ever. The velociraptors chasing me through a field of ecstacy-induced hallucinations while I clung to a stroller and a handmade parachute was bad enough. I didn't want to see the cow (yes, it was a cow, it's a dream, shut up) with the five inch diameter schlong and its front hooves on some poor guy's shoulders...

I don't know how it was a cow with a schlong. Maybe it was a pre-op cow? I don't know how it got his pants down. My brain doesn't tell me these things. My brain only feeds me the disturbing imagery and laughs as I writhe in pain.

I'm not actually kidding about this dream. It was scary.

Anyway.

Up to the Celtic Festival today. What fun. Hopefully there will be no cows and I will not be forced to run screaming in terror. Hopefully instead there will be lots of silly people pretending to be Irish for a day (or Scots), a few actual Scots (or Irishmen), good music, random alcohol (I'm not driving, hah!), and copious amounts of knotwork all over everything. I'd like that. It's better than cow-buggery. Which I actually should stop thinking about if I want to stop cringing, but I can't. The image is seared onto my eyeballs.

Think of something else, Jag. Think of something else.

KITT. And how absolutely adorable he is. Although I'm somewhat impressed by how... well, hell. I'm always impressed by how easily the Sorcerer can get just about anyone to think, do, or say almost anything. So glad he doesn't do that very often. You're supposed to use your powers for good, my love! I think the most frightening part about this is that I'm not that charismatic. So I don't know how he does it.

Mmmph. Tried to paint yesterday. Hand-eye coordination completely shot; ended up slopping paint everywhere. Meh.

Torn between wanting to see Lambert Wilson in Catwoman and just running away from the sheer bad movie ness of it. I mean, c'mon. The plot sounds so contrived, whether or not it's actually based around the original Catwoman or not. The costume isn't actually that attractive. Benjamin Bratt is playing a cop, the same as he's done in every role since Law & Order. Sharon Stone looks kinda hot. And Lambert Wilson is playing, apparently, The Merovingian again. Only less poised-AI and with a British accent this time. So, hotness. Hmm. Does that outweigh the suck potential.

Eh. If not, there's always the Bourne Supremacy. And The Village. Mmmm Shyamalan. That's what the M really stands for. Mmmm. Either that or he's the head of a British spy intelligence agency.

Gee, can you tell I need more sleep. And less dreams about COW RAPE!

Gyah.

(no subject)

Celtic Fest was highly entertaining. May go to another one that's in... wait for it... Dublin.

No, not Dublin in Ireland. I wish. Dublin in about an hour, hour and a half from here.

Saw a bunch of really cool musical groups including two that I am now so totally in love with. Somewhat along the lines of Tempest: Homeland and Wolfstone. Homeland is actually based pretty close to where I live, which is cool. The members of Wolfstone sported genuine Scots-Irish accents (depending on the band member, Scots or Irish or something) and so are decidedly not local. Ah well.

Ohyeah. Other fun bits at the Celtic Fest. As we were going in a guy tried to get us to sign his petitiony thing to persuade the local Reps to vote for the marriage-man-woman-bullshit amendment. I tolerated his spiel for about two seconds after which I told him I didn't think my girlfriend would like that. He shut up real quick.

Lesse. Bought a pair of earrings to satisfy the magpie. I swear, any time I go near a place with earrings or jewelry with money in my pocket to spend, I get nagged to buy some. He even tried to get me to buy a shirt with rhinestones on it. Tastefully placed rhinestones, but still rhinestones. He's still bitter about that.

Bodhran player looked like Dai. Not. Cool.

Oh yeah. And some random signs that I've been doing way too much TM lately:

1. Looking at cars on the way there and back to see what kind of car would be good for Red's car body.

2. Tousled straight shoulderlengthish long-haired teenage scrawny boychik in glasses somehow automatically = Mike

3a. On the way back, pass a Trans Am semi. I didn't know they were still making those. Are they?

3b. On the way back, pass a Knight Transportation truck. Yeah.

4. Tall, skinny, scraggly long-haired bouncy guitar lead singer person. Yeah.

All in all, though. Good day.