| Fear Factor |

I have been prone to nightmares lately. This is a strange occurrence for me, as I've never had them before. I'm not in-tune with the spiritual world of dreams, so I don't pretend to know what they mean. Of course, I could look up the symbolic meaning of the images I see as I sleep. I do not however because: A) I'm really lazy, B) I assume these assessments were written by a 42 year old woman who still lives in her Mother's basement, wears to much cheap faux gold jewelry and sweaters her Grandmother knitted her for Christmas 20 years ago, and C) I don't care all that much.

The nightmares are rather simple. No more complex than you average slasher flick. Standard plot, usual cast of characters. In this particular one, I was forced to watch an alternate version of me kill my friends in alphabetical order (Sorry, Aaron and Amanda. Will, you have lots of time, start running now.). I am not making the alphabetical order part up.

All this got me thinking about what it is I'm afraid of. And it turns out, lots. Here are a few of the things I thought about:

1) Falling down stairs in public
2) Falling up stairs in public
3) People who walk to close to me late at night
4) Not being successful enough
5) Moving far away
6) Never getting married, or having a family
7) Marrying the wrong person
8) Wolverines
9) The movie 28 days later coming true
10) Death

Death is a big one, folks. I know a lot of people are afraid to die. Although I am one of them, it also seems rather foolish to me. Why be afraid of something you can do nothing to alter? It's the only certainty in life. And this got me thinking about another list. Things I would like to do before I die, for whatever reason. This is the kind of list that will keep on growing. But here's a few to start it off:

1) Win the WWE championship in a Steel Cage Match.
2) See my television show on air
3) Stick my hand into a fire-ant mound
4) Dissassemble a car, piece by piece. Then, give all the pieces to a kid and tell him if he can put it together again, he can have it.
5) Sleep with at least one famous person (preferable Scarlet Johanson)
6) Dress, and live like a pirate for a week
7) Pink belly a Nun
8) Get photographed by Annie Leibowitz
9) Eat an entire jar of mayonnaise

Talk soon

x's and o's

-Remy

| Pictures of the Heart |

As promised, here are the pics from Heart. Once again, some didn't turn out as I was forced to act like James Bond and sneak the pics.

| Conversations With an 8-ball, Volume One |

I thought it would be a mighty good idea to have a little Q and A time with the mightiest of all psychics, a Magic 8-ball that I found laying around.



Here are the results.

Q - Will I be successful in Florida?
A - Concentrate and ask again.

Q - Um. Okay. Will I be successful in Florida?
A - Cannot predict now.

Q - Why did you not say that the first time?
A - My reply is no.

Q - I'm already annoyed by you?
A - My sources say no.

Q - Argumentative little bastard. Am I going to be begging Kristine for my Old Nick job two weeks after leaving?
A - Concentrate, and ask again.

Q - Oh, no. I'm not doing that again. Try this, will the Blue Jays make the play-offs?
A - My sources say no.

Q - That sucks. Do I have a crush on somebody?
A - My reply is no.

Q - See, now I know you are lying. Because I do.
A - Reply Hazy, try again.

Q - Who are these 'sources', anyway?
A - Yes.

Q - That's not even a source.
A - Don't count on it.

Q - Psh. I'm not.
A - Reply hazy, try again.

Q - You already said that?
A - Outlook Good.

Q - Oh, see. Now you are testing my patience?
A - It is certain.

Q - How would you like it if I smashed you on the floor?
A - Most likely.

At this point in the procedings, I raised the 8-ball above my head and threatened it.

Q - I'll do it.
A- Outlook not so good.

Q- It's sure as hell not. For you.
A- Don't count on it.

Q- Oh, a tough guy, eh?
A - As I see it, yes.

Q - Fuck. Fine. I'm keeping you around. Plus, I'm scared of whatever bizarre liquid is inside of you. I'm positive whatever it is did not originate on this planet. Also, I may need you for comedic blog purposes later.
A - My reply is no.

Q - Are you saying I'm not funny?
A - Ask again later.

Q - You're right, I guess this blog is pretty new.
A - Reply hazy, try again.

talk soon

x's and o's.

-remy

| My Heart |

So, what's it been? 5 days. I'm slacking.

So, I shall start by telling you all that I am madly in love with another man's wife.

The man? Cameron Crowe.

The wife? Nancy Wilson.

Sorry there, Cam. I don't care if you directed 'Almost Famous' (Which I love, sir.) But I want your wife somethin' fierce. And if the chance arouse, I would not hesitate to do what Rita Wilson did to Tom Cruise in another of your films, Jerry Maguire. I would feel bad about it, I'm sure. And the result would not be favorable for me, this I also I know. But damned if I wouldn't try.

It was Thursday. A beautiful day. Jason 'Dirty' Howarth and I were on our way to Casino Rama. The reason was the soon to be object of my celebrity lust, and the band she plays with, Heart.

I won't go through the entire show, instead, I'll just say that they were AMAZING. They covered Tom Petty (You Wrong Me), and, much to the delight of Dirty and myself, Zeppelin (Going to California, and The Immigrant Song) as well as their own stuff, natch!

Highlight for me? Well, a couple, since you asked.

First, the fact the when the lights went out, the Old Nick crew, Kris, Marty, Me, Dirty and Mo, stormed the stage which landed us all in the very first row. And by first row, I mean leaning against the stage. I was so close to Nancy that I could have slapped her for being such a kick-ass rock-star. Second, their cover of the Who's Love Reign O'er Me.

Hi. They owned that song.

Anne Wilson, also, is a complete rock star. Her stage presents is incredible. And the strut, oh, the strut. The strut was topped only by Nancy's (*swoon*) high kicks and hops.

I will have pics up shortly. Not many from the show, as we were not suppose to take pics where we were standing. But, I snuck a few in there. Had to.

And if anybody asks, don't mix strawberry Gatorade and Vodka together. It seems like a good plan, but when the ratio of Vodka far exceeds the Gatorade, it tastes like rubbing alcohol.

We'll talk soon.

x's and o's.

| An Apology |

Okay, so this is not an entry.

Just an apology that I have not written in a few.

I assure you that when I get home tonight, and after I take a much needed (even though I just woke up) nap, I'll have some new entries!

x's and o's.

| Oh, and PS |

Go see Star Trek.



It scores +11 points for awesome. Made far superior by the company I enjoyed it with.

There are some important lessons in this movie too, especially if we are going to survive for the next few hundred million years.

- Make sure you always have the most dangerous material in the entire galaxy on hand at all time. And lots of it.

-Genocide is okay, but only if you are you one of the last people alive from your race, and it's for inter-stellar revenge.

-Don't be talking about Spock's Momma. He will choke you, and it will hurt.

-Don't start messing with time-lines. Shit will get fucked up. And you will score no points.

-Iowa, it would seem, is going to become the technological mecca of the universe.

-Little Kirk=win, Little Spock=win. Both get High Fives. Little Kirk for out-driving the police, and Little Spock for beating up Vulcan bullies.

Hrm... I'm sure I could think of more if it was not an hour after I said I was going to bed in the last post.

For real. Good Night.

x's and o's

-Remy

| Single Unit, Part Two: Room for Two |

So, we were going to discuss, a while back the difference between good and bad bed fellows.

Now, let me state that when it comes to the good, I am running entirely on memory. I have not had good company in that department in some time, at least company that meant something to me.

And sure, you'll say, "Remy, you were with Mothra for some time, wasn't she good to sleep next to?" That to me is like asking, "Isn't it nice sleeping next to your laptop power supply?"

To which my answer to both is the same: " Sure it is. It's warm and comforting in some strange way. It makes a relaxing hum, like some wonderful bio-tech lullaby. But if the voltage is a little screwy, or the plug is slightly out of the socket, or you accidentally kick the blanket slightly off it's feet, the whole place can go up in flames. "

So, Mothra=bad.


Laptop Power Supply=Good.


At the very least, the power supply doesn't yell at you for sliding quietly under the sheets at 3am, having stayed up to watch a Mythbusters marathon. No, see, the power supply would just keep humming happily away, luring me into dreams of busting myths while throwing crash test dummies in front of every moving object on the planet.

There will be no concern over the fact that you got up at 8am, about 10 minutes before you have to go to work and didn't make the bed, while the power supply is still in it. Apparently, OCD works during REM too.

The power supply won't jump on you in the morning, after you've worked a twelve hour day, which finished four hours previous to the jumping, demanding you get up to tell her where the thing that you MUST have missplaced is. When you assure Mothra that you have not touched the thing in question, she gets angrier, and asks why nothing is EVER where it was before I MUST have moved it. Mothra even maintains her anger when she finds the thing in her purse, where she left it. This one is not so bad, as I am not even awake enough to understand a)What's missing, b) Why I'm being yelled at, and c) Who's yelling at me. Not the power supply, the power supply will let me sleep, and look for it himself before blaming (note I said blame, not ask) someone else.

Side note: Mothra had always assumed that I had a little cubby stash full of things I hid from her. Examples: Sewing needles (I don't sew), stethoscope (I'm not a doctor, or nurse), Polysporin (I had no open wounds). This list is much longer, but I'm sure we shall delve into that again soon.

Now, there are certain parts of sharing a bed with somebody you're in a relationship with that are a given. Sex, sure, but that's a whole other train tunnel. What I'm talking about here is cuddling.

The power supply will almost always cuddle, not try and get away. Unless it's really hot in the room, then the power supply will try and cool down by blinking his little green light in a non-verbal request that some space remains, less both of you end up with the same fate as the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz.


Cuddling to me is important, there's a sense of security in it that you can't get with sex alone. It's comforting and nice. Especially at bed time, especially when you share that time with somebody. It's a very intimate setting.



See, to me, one of the big tests of a good relationship was if I could not just sleep, but sleep soundly next to somebody. Mind you, this is hard to do when your significant other hangs upside down from the roof in slumber. If I dose off, and wake-up in almost the same position I fell asleep in, the test is passed. If I try and cuddle somebody, and I am greeted like I just tried to kill a baby Koala with a circular saw, the test is failed. Not the power supply, which will always be right next to you. It can't even climb walls, because it's a laptop power supply. It has no legs.

So, in short, you would much rather sleep next to the power supply. Because it's a metaphor for good company. Company that respects your sleep, and enjoys the fact they are sleeping next to you, and you to them. Company that wouldn't mind the occasional snuggle. Company that you just can't resist kissing on the forehead right after they fall asleep, because at that moment they look just the perfect amount of beautiful.

It's not recommended that you kiss the power supply, unless you put some rubber between you and it.


That's it for me, kids. It's late /early.

So, I retire to my bed, with company that will always be perfect: myself. The silence of me sleeping is one of the most relaxing things to me. Um.. yah. Until later, I leave you with this...