Category — weird stuff

Last night I had my first ever dream featuring a celebrity. The only other time I’ve dreamt of anything celebrity-related was the time I woke Joe up because I was shrieking in my sleep (I was riding around on Angelina Jolie’s speedboat in the dream – I never actually saw her, but I knew it was her boat and I was having the time of my life.)

Anyway, here is the dream:

I am on a small passenger plane headed for Vancouver. There are about 25 passengers and all of the female passengers are clustered around a seat at the back of the plane. When the crowd of giggling and preening women part, I see a supremely annoyed looking Robert Pattinson sitting in the seat. It’s clear to me he’s trying not to lose his temper, or give into to the temptation of tossing the lot of them out the door at 25,000 feet. The girls are all making a huge fuss of him, trying to get his attention, trying to find some excuse, any excuse, to touch him.

He sees me looking at him, his mouth is set in a grim line, his teeth clenched. I give him a little half-wave and turn away.

We begin our descent into Vancouver and the girls all reluctantly return to their seats. I stare out the window as we fly lower and notice that a large tank is rumbling it’s way down a set of unused train tracks as we fly over Kerrisdale. The pilot begins to speak over the PA system as I lose sight of the tank:

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid we must divert our Vancouver flight to another nearby facility. Please remain in your seats with your seat belts fastened and your seat backs and tray tables in the upright and locked position.”

I’m feeling a little anxious and more than a little annoyed. All I want is to get home and get off this stupidly tiny plane with it’s cramped seating and silly women behind me. Some of the ladies have chosen to become hysterical at the pilot’s announcement and have launched themselves in a flurry of fake tears into Robert Pattinson’s lap. I don’t need to look this time to know that he is not impressed. I can hear him and the flight attendant urging these idiots back to their seats.

The plane finally lands and we are shown into a small, cramped air hangar and told to wait for the arrival of our luggage.

While most of the passengers cluster around Rob, I head over to a counter and ask why the flight’s been diverted. One of the employees, her attention largely focused on the large group around Rob, tells me that the pilot saw a tank in Kerrisdale and was unsure it was safe to land. Cars were being brought in to pick us all up and get us either home or to a hotel.

I walk towards the group which has dispersed somewhat and get Rob’s attention.

“What?” he’s practically snarling with frustration.

“The pilot diverted the flight because he thought there was a threat to our safety. Cars are being sent to pick us all up and take us where we need to go. I thought you might like to know.”

Rob looks surprised, then colours a little for biting my head off. “Thanks.”

I nod at him and walk over to where our luggage is being unloaded. I take my bags down a small hallway near a door over-looking the tarmac. A few moments later I hear footsteps behind me. I turn and it’s Rob.

“Hey,” he says. “Want to grab a cigarette with me?”

I don’t smoke, but what the hell, I agree and we walk out. Rob lights up and we start walking across the tarmac. Suddenly, from behind, there is a cacophony of voices. “Rob! Rob, is this your new girlfriend?”, “How does Kristen feel about this?”, “How did you two meet?” and other questions lost in the babble of voices and sound of camera flashes and hurried footsteps.

Rob grabs my hand and looks at me quickly and then down again. The message is clear: “Don’t look. Say nothing. Keep moving.” We hurry further on and I feel grateful that he didn’t simply bolt and leave me to fend for myself. There is a large white car across the way and we move towards it. As I am looking down and hurrying, I see a small pixie dressed in a deep pink dress at my feet. I bend and scoop her up in my hand as we rush forwards.

The pixie is completely unimpressed with this and bites me.

I frown at her. “I thought maybe you’d prefer to not be trampled by those idiots.”

“Oh.” she says in a tiny bell-like voice. “Then I apologize for biting you.”

The reporters and photographers are now gone and we reach the car. The pixie leaps from my hand into the open driver-side window. The dome light goes on illuminating the amber tinted windows and the driver-side door opens. Inside, the car is upholstered all in white leather. As my eyes adjust to the slightly darker interior, I see that the seats are covered in strings of raw meat, watery blood and the small holder between the two front seats is full of what looks like a blood and milk mixture.

I look back at Rob and he grins, “Well, we have to have somewhere to eat, drink and whore.”

At this point I got woken up by a garbage truck in the alley behind the house – and maybe that’s for the best.

I am participating in CurlyWurlyGurly’s theme posting challenge for June: The WORST candy in the history of mankind has to be Hershey’s Eat-More bar.

The Eat-More bar is supposedly a “chewy dark toffee, peanut and chocolate” bar. But what you never hear about is how these bars are made – well, I am spilling my guts to the world now. No more secrets! This is how Eat-More is manufactured:

1. Go to work at candy bar factory.
2. Pick up random bits of toffee, peanuts and chocolate on the bottom of your boots.
3. Scrape boots off into the Eat-More bucket at the end of your shift.
4. Grave-yard shift workers press it into bars and sell it.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s an economical and environmentally friendly method for making candy, but even if their boots are clean; do you really want to eat candy that was on the floor? This defies the five second rule and is, quite frankly, unhygienic.

I did try to get a picture of it, but it sensed my great dislike for it and would not allow me to take its photo. All the photos were blurred and in one, I’m fairly certain I saw a cluster of peanut bits shaped like Satan. But, I am not one to disappoint my readers and I discovered the Candy Blog has a very nice and in-focus photo of it.

Besides which, the candy looks rather like a shiny turd with peanut bits embedded in it and this is a G rated blog. Someone has to think of the children.

My father would tell me I am a cretin for not loving these bars. He claims they are tasty, they keep the mail moving (though how that much sugar translates into fibre I will never know) and the number one reason to love Eat-More bars (according to dear old Dad) is folding the wrapper like so:

I tried eating a little piece of the bar – after all I have broadened my horizons somewhat since I was 7 years old – but, my refined adult palate wholeheartedly rejected the candy and went running straight into the arms of a 3 Musketeers bar.

Dad, if you’re reading this, I’m sure it’s Mum’s faulty genes that dictate my hatred for this candy. I still like beer if that helps.

After three weeks away with the faeries, I came back to find I’d been tagged in a meme by Pannonica. Who am I to not answer the call?

Here’s the fine print and rules and all that:

• Link to your original tagger and list these rules in your post.
• Share 7 facts about yourself in the post.
• Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names and links to their blogs.
• Let them know they’ve been tagged.

Seven facts about me:

1. I enjoy getting these “all about me” sort of memes. Where else is it so acceptable and even expected to talk about yourself incessantly. I don’t know too many people who truly hate talking about themselves and these let you rattle on and on!
2. I enjoy cleaning messy things – stoves, bathrooms, bedrooms…whatever. I like seeing things well organized and clean. It gives me warm fuzzies that are second only to putting on warm socks fresh out of the dryer.
3. I am usually pretty generous with my things except for popcorn and books. I DO NOT share popcorn. Period. Get your own and keep your greedy eyes away from mine. I will share my books, but I am the nastiest librarian ever. When I say I want that book back in exactly the same condition I lent it out in – I really mean it.
4. I have an absolute horror of being late for things. If we’re meeting at 6 for dinner, you can bet I was in the neighbourhood at 5 (and sitting in nearby coffee shop checking my watch obsessively) and I will be no less than 15 minutes early for our date.
5. My book collection is organized like Chapters. Children’s books in one section, classic literature in another etc. I tried putting them on the shelves in alphabetical order by author, but I could never find anything. I expect to find Dickens and Austen keeping company and that my collection of hard cover Twilight books will be in general fiction.
6. Which leads to…I liked the Twilight books. No, I do not have any shame. I mean sure, they are silly and obsessive and even creepy at times – but the 16 year old girl in me LOVED them! The adult I was supposed to become thinks they’re ridiculous, but I never listen to her much anyway.
7. I believe that being a kid for the rest of my life is an honourable aspiration. It allows me to still believe in things I can’t see, own crayons and a couple of colouring books, play with toys when I’m feeling silly and adore cartoons. Plus, I still think that Sugar Crisp cereal with chocolate milk is fantastic!

Now for the dreaded tagging – but you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to (or Pan got to you first):

• The DailyDish – because now that she’s moved and got her pretty blue garbage bags out for collection, I feel OK about being nosy.
• Nate – anyone who can write about Guitar Hero as science is someone I need to know more stuff about.
• Lens Impressions – I’m hoping she’ll write one on Waldi’s behalf because honestly, that dog is ridiculously adorable. And I want photos too.
• Romi – I’m just nosy – her site is more entertaining than People magazine and her facts will be hilarious.
• Free and Flawed – She already shares lots about her life – but the public need to hear more is not so easily sated. Plus, she draws stick people too!
• CurlyWurlyGurly – Come oooonnnnn – all the cool kids are doing it!!

OK, that’s only six people, but I never said I would follow the rules.