Last night I dreamt I'd discovered that two sections from my blog had been published in a magazine, which was designed along the lines of Interview but was called something else. The section they were in was based on the premise that Andrea Dworkin would read various blogs and choose one to highlight in every issue. (Mind you, even if Andrea Dworkin were a.) alive and b.) scouting blogs for a magazine like Interview. she would never ever in a thousand years select any blog of mine to be in it.) Unfortunately, the two posts that were printed were horrible boring things that mainly quoted and linked other sources, and I was mortified that of everything I'd ever written, those were the bits the entire magazine-reading public was going to see.
I swear my dreams get stranger every day. Night. Whatever.
In other news, I took G to see Surf's Up this evening and was pleasantly surprised; I'd thought the previews looked sort of lame, but it was really quite funny and the faux-documentary format worked well. I don't know how many more penguin movies I'll be able to take, but I enjoyed this one. However, I would like to lodge a complaint against Regal Cinemas for their crappy excuse for salted pretzels -- instead of making a real salted pretzel the way they used to, now they give you a warmish, slightly damp prepacked pretzel in a plastic bag and two little paper packets of salt that you're supposed to sprinkle on it yourself. The salt isn't coarse enough and is more gritty than crunchy, so all you end up with is what tastes like a wet dinner roll dipped in table salt. Bogus, dude.