Weeknight evenings just got a lot better

Spring's here. Shit just got real.

Dream Post #2

I know... no one wants to read about dreams.

I'm going to post about mine anyway for the sake of posterity. I'm pretty sure they're absolutely devoid of symbolism and meaning.

And this is my blog, so neener.

Just a short list in point form this time, because these are old and not fresh in my memory.

• The one where my friend's brother hooked me up with a job interview, and I spent the entire dream hemming and hawing about whether or not I would accept the job because the daily interplanetary commute to Jupiter sounded really tiring.
• The one where I was accused of breaking some kind of American cross-border grocery shopping law about bringing groceries back into Canada without a permit. The security guard took us to see the CEO of the grocery store at the headquarters (which were at this terrifying compound 15 miles away in the middle of a wooded area) where we were executed upon arrival. I thought people weren't supposed to die in their own dreams?
• The one where, over a nice steak dinner, my parents told me that they thought that Nelly was a freeloader and that I should no longer allow her to live under my roof without making some kind of financial contribution. To which I responded incredulously, "Nelly can't get a job. She's a dog!!!"

Dream Post #1

The night before last, I fell asleep on the couch while watching documentaries with Jean.

I dreamt I had a new coffee machine. Oh, and a glass eye. In order to make a coffee, I had to remove my glass eye and screw a container into my eye socket and then the brewing would happen in my skull.

I woke up with a fuzzy right eye and a mild sensation of panic. I realized that not only had I fallen asleep with my contacts in, giving me mucous-eye, but I had been sleeping in a way that squished my eyeball against Jean's chest.

After I regained clear vision in the pancake eye, I got up and went to bed.

Rain. All week.

At least it's better than snow.

... right?

Just... no.

No.

This is gourmet tuna...

... and in the world of canned tuna, if you haven't eaten Ortiz brand canned tuna, you haven't lived.

While in Spain, we bought it among other canned seafoods (all delicious) and it was on a whole other level. It's so good that it would be a damn shame to a make a tuna salad sandwich with it. I opened the one can -- yes, I only brought one can back -- at home alone while waiting for Jean to arrive, and though the plan was to only eat half so that he could taste it, it took everything in my power to not gobble down the entire thing straight from the can.

It's tuna belly and it's buttery and scrumptious and unctuous and silky and and and....*drool*

So no, Clover Leaf, until you can come out with a canned tuna that holds a candle to Ortiz, tuna has not gone gourmet.

My only regret is not bringing an entire case of this shit back to Montreal.

Guess what we just did

I should be embarrassed to post this, seeing as its already April, but I'm not.

Fire hazard be gone!

Blue

I'm really pleased with these two chairs I brought home today.

I'm infinitely bad at decorating. I draw a lot of inspiration from so many different things, but I have trouble making it come together cohesively.

Or maybe I should avoid "cohesive" and just allow myself to go along the mish-mash path my brain keeps wanting me to.

Can this movie come out already?!

I think I'll reread the book in the meantime.

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