Friday, February 01, 2008

Oh, Dreeeeeeamweaver

This morning I spent an excessive amount of time (think 'mini-series' not 'very special episode') trying to find a job. In London.* I officially started hating my hometown yesterday when I learned I'd been rejected for a job at the Fresh Market. Obviously, disappointment has been in my Top 8 since forever--I've spent 10 months being turned down more than the comforters at La Quinta--but I thought I was a lock for that green apron and maybe even a "Lettuce Help You" button.**

But noooo, I'm apparently not qualified to be a 'Produce Supervisor'. I was unaware that it took such an advanced skill set to maintain order among inanimate objects. Maybe they thought I was too weak to prevent the artichokes and the eggplants from having some type of nutrient-fueled turf war. Or maybe they just thought I'd grab a large onion out of the bin and wave it around in a customer's faces while shouting "Look, I'm taking a leek! AHAHAHA!".

Yeah. It was probably that. Stupid homophones.

So. England, because I'm reasonably obsessed with English things like their muffins and Springer spaniels and also Hugh Laurie*** who managed to invade my subconscious the other night. I had an incredibly vivid dream that Mr. Laurie was filming a movie**** down the street from my parents' house. Since we'd previously dated,***** I still had his phone number in my cell phone. So I called him and he gave me a very warm "hello" before telling me that he had just started a new relationship and wasn't sure that it was a good idea to see each other. I interrupted him mid-sentence, thanked him for his honesty, and said "I really just wanted to know if you could watch my dog."

It's nice that I remain loser-scented even in my sleep. My stupid brain had full control over the fate of Hugh Laurie, a man composed almost entirely of sex and stubble (Fig. 1)

...but rather than, say, covering him in blackberry jam or riding on a Ferris wheel naked, I asked him to pet sit. I woke up incredibly disappointed with myself.******

Maybe Fresh Market knew what they were doing.

*I meant England, not Kentucky...but that was before I learned about the World Chicken Festival and giant skillet.
**Only slightly better than "Mango Away, Asshole."
***Not in a Glenn Close "invite him over for dinner, Madame Butterfly, and wrist-slashing" type of way. The healthy kind of obsession, like people have for exercise or cigarettes or vandalism.
****Involving animatronic bears. Yes, I'm serious. Confidential to Hugh Laurie: If you are interested, I have already written the treatment.
*****I cite the Lovett Act of 1993-1995 when I say that it is entirely possible for me to date him.
******I haven't been this upset with REM since "Around the Sun". YES.


Craig said...

I want to be made at you for the "Around the Sun" joke, but let's face it, the truth hurts.

Holly said...

COME TO CULLYFORNEEYA. He has to film out here sometime, right?

(I swore I wouldn't use this tactic, but you sort of stumbled into it yourself.)

Birdwatching From Mars said...

When Hugh talks to you in your dreams, does he have the accent or is he straight-up Gregory House?

J-Money said...

Actually, as weird as my dreams are, I think he probably sounded like Dr. Claw.