September 25, 2000 — Spinach on pizza: the verdict

Last night, I had my most nonsensical dream in a long time. It started, somehow, with my having acquired a limited edition copy of a Garbage single, complete with water-sensitive art printed on an inkjet printer. This may sound crappy, but I treasured this 12" single like it were my best friend in the world. And let's be honest, I currently consider my limited-edition Bran Van 3000 single to be my best friend in the world, so this dream is making a lot of sense, if you ignore that business about Sirley Manson.

But I digress. As can be expected in a nonsensical dream, I did the stupidest thing possible: I took the record to a bar. And not only that; it was a bar with a swimming pool. The funny part, mind you, was that you had to be drinking in order to use the pool. (I was going to have a lengthy joke about this doing a nice job of thinning the segments of the population stupid enough to swim while drunk, but why bother?) I had to pretend to drink in order to be allowed to go swimming. But then my Garbage single got wet and the shock of the ink running caused me to wake up.

Moments later at breakfast, fruit salad and Rice Krispies failed to make an appearance, and the cream cheese tasted like strawberries because some retard had mixed up the knives. Stupid dreams and bad food: the start of any good day.

I refuse to even talk about my classes. It's not worth my time or yours.

After school, Johnston bought a printer, and I searched for digital cameras that I could use for anti-greg. No successes yet, but I remain optimistic that a suitable combination of low resolution and cheapness can be found. As soon as I find this dream digital camera, I'll be able to have a lot more fun with these journals.

And then, later still...

The day contiued on its hell-bent path when I visited one of those "gourmet" pizza places at 10:00PM only to find that there was no plain-cheese option. Which had been replaced by the four-cheese-with-spinach option. Given the choice between vegetarian (I dislike green peppers) and spinach-ridden cheese (I'd never actually tried spinach before), I chose spinach. This, as you may have guessed, was not an excellent choice. And so I present to you my guide to pizza selection:

1. If the pizza looks like a lawn that hasn't been mowed in several weeks, it is not for you.
2. If you've never heard of two of the four cheeses on the pizza, you more than likely won't be able to appreciate them even if you can taste them, which you probably won't be able to do.
3. If the cheese has congealed to a point that it resembles a linoleum floor...

But enough of that. I've learned my lesson.

Fuck. Has anyone else noticed that this journal entry is completely horrible? Bah.

I'd taken some notes about people in my seminar class using long words to try to look smart, but I think I'll end up looking like the asshole in trying to tell the story, which isn't really my intent. Kind of, but not really. Let me just say that using "peruse," "delve," and "leisure" in a single phrase that you want to have mean "enjoy on your own time" is not the fastest way to my heart.

I'm sleepy.