Friday night I had a dream that was very melancholy. I can’t really remember any of it, but I knew it was full of meaning and wistfullness. The only real detail I remember was I looked out my window in my 2nd floor apartment and there was a cat that I knew (and it knew me) and it had a device strapped to its body which was connected to two spinning rotating blades, allowing the cat to fly like a helicopter. It gave me a knowing sad glance, then flew away, and I ran down the stairs and out the door in pursuit. This was all set to a very moving, touching score. For some reason, I had to catch this cat - we had some sort of past together and the thought of losing this precious animal was too much to bear.

When I reached the street, the cat unstrapped (somehow) its helicopter apparatus and fell to the street in mid-run, and I chased it until it stopped in the middle of the road as a truck bore down on it. Then I scooped the cat up and dove away from the truck (which was of course making that loud truck horn as it blew past us, never stopping)

Then I woke up.

***end dream***

I got in the car while HJ was still asleep and went to go get some bagels. The new arcade fire album (which I found online last week and which is awesome and is proof that they are our new rock saviors) was still in the cd player from the day before.

I picked up my half dozen plain bagels in the busy einstein bagels establishment near our house. Everybody in there is young and has on stupid jogging t-shirts. The ones they give out at races that are filled with ads and sponsors and bear the name of whichever race it was…

‘Run the Rock ‘98!’, like I give a shit that you were jogging back in the day and are still jogging now. You suck.

Anyways, I’m here to get bagels, but really I’m here to get cream cheese, which I will then smear on bagels and eat them. I will do no jogging this weekend. HJ and I will clean up the house cuz Heather’s cousin Phillip is coming over and we are going to play some wii.

Last week I theorized with a co-worker over lunch that what if the greatest wii tennis player in the world could somehow be given the body of a supreme athelete. And this wii tennis player is not some normal gamer - he is the mozart of wii tennis. He has been gifted by God perfect hand eye coordination and the inability to make mistakes. (before wii he was the world’s best ping pong player. If Forrest Gump was real, they would be an even draw.) Would this godlike wii player be the best tennis player in the world?

SNL turns out to be awful, but I stay up for the whole show cuz the aforementioned arcade fire is performing. They play well and after sticking through seemingly endless awful skits that barely make me register a smile, I am rewarded with a second performance near the end of the show. Dwight Shrute is hosting tonight, and I was looking forward to that, but even a Shrute cannot save this crap.

On Thursday night’s Office, Dwight asked a colleague at a dinner party if he watched Battlestar Galactica.

After the colleague answered in the negative, Dwight calmly replied, “No? That’s because you’re an idiot.”

Our next two discs of battlestar arrive on Saturday but we wait till Sunday to watch them. First we watch The Prestige, and to my chagrin, I figure out everything. I’m disappointed. Don’t get me wrong, the movie is great and Bowie is the bomb. I just heard there were twists you would be able to spot and twists you wouldn’t. I did but I wish I hadn’t. I wish I could see another movie where Kevin Spacey all of a sudden stops walking with a limp and my jaw hits the floor.

So we watch six hours of battlestar. Four episodes - break 2.5 hours to see the Suns take care of the Hawks - Four more. But there’s still one episode left on the last disc…which we don’t have cuz we didn’t turn back in Half Nelson soon enough. Will Starbuck get the arrow back from Caprica? Will she meet up with Helo while she’s there? Will Sharon try to set off some sort of bomb on Galactica?

Dwight’s right.

After our episodes are over I glance at the web and notice that I completely missed the Oscars…which I cannot recall ever doing before ever. Ryan Gosling didn’t win, even though his junkie character from Half Nelson ignored his pet cat and it died. That tore me up.

hmm….that’s probably what the copter cat was all about the other night…