prison for jerks

This morning I had a dream where I logged onto AIM and was immediately pounced upon by a nifra_idril, telling me all about what she's been off doing for the past year. And then I woke up, and it was sad. The end.

I downloaded season 3 of Stargate SG-1 the other day and am working through it very very slowly. It turns out it has the perfect ratio of boring-to-interesting and caring-to-not-at-all-caring to make it perfect background watching while I go about doing all my normal activities. Thumbs up.

Right now I am torrenting season 2 of the Office (US), because the pimping of half of my friends list has finally reached my saturation point. If it turns out I don't like it I shall hold it against ALL OF YOU very pettily.

Man, you know that song where you can see in your mind this really amazing vid hidden inside it, but you know that it's so far beyond your own technical abilities it's not even funny? For me that song is totally Andrew Bird's "Fake Palindromes", because the John&Aeryn&Scorpius possibilities in there are just gorgeous. But, yeah. At least if life ever presents me a captive vidder to be held hostage, I shall be prepared!

Here are some things I learned today!

1) Chief Weber from Grey's Anatomy is also Brandon's boss at the Beverly Hills Beach Club on 90210.

2) Daniel Jackson's grandfather is Mort the coroner!

3) Man, when you are having a ridiculous craving for red meat and cheese and goop and grease, there is nothing to fill the craving like Carl's Jr. Yum.

4) I am one of the few people who does not at all mind the new update journal page.

5) I really need to learn to walk in high heels so I can wear awesome trashy girly shoes. Heh.

Anything interesting for you guys?

Last night I watched SG-1's "Tin Man", and the more time goes by, the more thinking about it is kind of freaking me out.

Here's the thing: probably the easiest way to freak me out completely in fiction is to start dealing with epistomelogical issues of reality and the self. Who am I? What is real? How do I know I am who I think I am? How do I know the world is what I think it is? How far can I trust my own perceptions of reality?

Which, of course, knowing that presses all my weird buttons, I immediately go and seek it out in fiction. Sane people trapped in Victorian mental asylums, checked. Fictional characters who are self-aware of their fictional state and seek to outwit their author, check. Waking up in asylums and told your experience of your life is a hallucination, check. Having yourself be doubled so there are two original and equal versions of you existing in the same time, check. Realizing you are an inferior cloned copy of the person you thought you were, check. Realizing your friends or family were created recently and your mind was tampered with false memories of their always having existed, check.

Seriously, it freaks me out even more than needles in the eye, and that's saying a lot.

(I have determined that the reason I liked "The Real World" on Friday more than everybody else is probably just because of my terrible fondness for Torri Higginson, though.)

I am waiting for my parents to come and pick me up to take me home. My sister is coming home from her summer on the East Coast with our grandparents tonight, too -- I haven't seen her in months! She sent me an email on Friday squeeing quite loudly and incoherently over the awesomeness of SG-1 "200". Basically she is the cutest baby fangirl ever, and I can't wait to see her again.