Today I managed to see Grindhouse with Wade. That pretty much makes this weekend a success even if I hadn’t done things the previous day that also pleased me. I despise the fact that I must surrender to my job another of my weeks now when things were just getting good.

I have a new goal in life, but it starts with me being a multi-millionaire. From there I can build an arcade with apartments above for those I like to live in rent-free while we all work to make the world a better place. The downside is I need to be a multi-millionaire for that to work. I don’t know how to be one of those.

Anyone wanting to help me start a make-PDR-a-multimillionaire fund can take their money elsewhere though. Help the world. That just cuts out the middleman that I represent in that scenario.

At any rate, I don’t want to go to work tomorrow. I really don’t.

For the record, I did get in touch with the bank and it turns out I gave the internet server wizards the wrong three digit security code and that’s why it isn’t working. And since the three digit code is on the card itself I have to get it off that and not the monthly statement things I got the number off. And that means I have to find the card, which I left in my room at some point to keep myself from using it offline.

For those not aware, my room is a reflection of my soul. When I am extremely happy, it gets cleaner. When I’m not, it becomes a mess. I have not had a clean room since I was twenty or twenty-one. And these days, it’s a damn mess.

Now I’ll point out that on my previous Visa, the three digits were easy to remember: 505. That’s a favorite number of mine, because it scares crows (I like crows, but still…). But they (Visa/Royal Bank) called me one time about upgrading my card to a different plan where I get double points or whatever. I usually go along with them on stuff like this because I genuinely don’t care and I figure they’re probably rewarded for every person they talk into crap like this. Anyhow, I wasn’t aware I would be issued a new damn card because of this. Thanks to this, I’ve lost weeks of having an email because I don’t have my 505. The shame of it all.

I guess I’ll try to find the card tomorrow and call them up again on Monday.

Sigh. I wish I had an actual life to talk about on here…

As I check out my groceries, I occasionally note that there is a “Pregnancy for Dummies” booklet next to the cash. I am not convinced we should be letting Dummies get pregnant. They’re likely to only produce dumb offspring. Right?

Anyhow, in the ongoing story of being unable to pay for Contains2, I got a letter from the Royal Bank’s security department yesterday saying I should call them. I tried four times today and it was busy each time. Go figure.

Apart from that, not much to say. So I will simply say “Volcano Rabbits Exist” and leave it at that.

Today is the one where Kip and I saw Pan’s Labrynth. I recommend it, even though it had no David Bowie in it.

I am 100% certain that I am the first person on the Internet to make a Bowie reference with relation to Pan’s Labrynth. One. Hundred. Percent. I am so sure that I’m not even going to check all the rest of the Internet to be sure. I just know.

Haiku!

Ewoks are coming.
They intend to overthrow.
Our reign is over.

For the record, I got into the bank the other day and they found nothing wrong with my account. I’m going to have to get in touch with the credit card people or something. I don’t know…

A month or so ago I had a dream about finding out I was going to be a father. My most recent dream was a variation on that. Much stranger. During the course of the dream I didn’t meet the woman who was carrying my child, but I knew her and knew she had been a nun or something. And while that was strange enough, things got stranger. Within the dream I suddenly woke up in my grandmother’s home. She informed me that I’d been in a coma for almost two years. She introduced me to my little son, who I helped feed while my grandmother filled me in on what had been happening. It seems I was an early casualty of a disease that “spread across the land” putting people to sleep. And though my grandmother didn’t mention it I got the distinct impression the disease had a high fatality rate and that humanity was not too worried about overpopulation anymore. My grandmother did mention, however, that in a lot of cases (but not mine apparently) the disease caused the victim’s skin color to change. My grandmother went to the television to put a tape on that would have told me what I had missed (she was still being cryptic) but that was when I woke up. I’m certain that tape would have told me the world was on the verge of the apocalypse, but I had to wake up and miss it… Oh well…

In other news, I tried calling the bank yesterday, but I guess the number they tried calling me from doesn’t work with incoming calls… I work early today but tomorrow perhaps I shall drop into the bank in person, and see if they know what’s up.

It’s been far too long since I’ve had email and, while I doubt anyone has tried to reach me, I still feel like I’m supposed to be checking this stuff.