Dreams, Marcia, Grease and Lapidus

Last night? I had this dream where I was in some sort of acting or public-speaking class. There were chairs set up all around the room, and in turn, each person had to get up and stand at a lecturn and tell a story. I got up and told some story about someone sleepwalking in the library and my having to go over and wake them up and how when they woke up I realized that it was the Homecoming Queen from my high school (do you capitalize “Homecoming Queen?” Because I kind of think you do, but it sort of pains me to do it at the same time). Anyway, in the background of my dream were the other people in the class. Among them were Paul Rudd, Malia Obama, Katie White from the Ting Tings, a green-skinned baby in a tuxedo that kind of looked like the Gerber baby, and Josh and the Maiden Metallurgist. That’s right, people. I have populated my dreamscape with celebrities, weird babies, and blog friends. To whom I tell really boring anecdotes about library work.

There’s got to be symbolism in there somewhere, but I don’t think I want to try and figure out what.

This week has flown by in a flurry of activity. That’s right, I said flurry. Oh, and speaking of flurries, I almost had a conipption fit yesterday because as I was working, out of the corner of my eye I saw what looked to me to be snowflakes blowing past the window. I became a rage-filled slobbering maniac. “ARE THOSE SNOWFLAKES?!!???” My co-worker looked at me with fear and said “Those are just cherry blossoms floating past the window.” I could see in her eyes that she added to herself, silently: “ya friggin’ freak.” What can I say, I have been scarred by the snowy winter we’ve had and am gunshy. Or snowshy. Or something.

There is a copy of “Here’s the Story,” the tell-all sordid autobiography of Maureen “Marcia Brady” McCormick, sitting on the new book shelf at my work. I see it every day. It is pulling me toward it, like a blackhole, and I warn you I may be powerless to stop myself from checking it out. I just needed to confess that.

I saw a little bit of “Grease” on tv recently. Why do all of the people in that movie look like they are 30 years old, and how come I never noticed that when I was a kid? And also, how did they get Olivia Newton John’s hair that big at the end of the movie? There had to be fake hair involved, right? And how come I never noticed that the whole point of that movie was to tell girls that you have to change everything about yourself and also put out if you want to keep your boyfriend? On the other hand, it also gave us the line “Where ya going? To flog your log?” so that’s good.

So is anyone still watching Lost? And does anyone else think that Lapidus belongs in an 80s detective show a la Magnum PI or on the cover of a late 70s Harlequin Romance novel? And in this week’s episode when they were yelling for him, didn’t it sound like they were yelling “La Penis! La Penis!” like a fucked up Pepe LePew? And was Kate really wearing a big ass red scrunchie in her hair, for serious? And why did they have to make child-Ben so Harry Potter looking?

You may think I watch that show for the theories and the mind-twisting plotlines. But no. I watch so I can giggle at La Penis.

I’m out,
Librarian Girl


  1. Dude, I was in one of your dreams? Even as a background extra, that’s still a pretty big honor.Now I wish I could say that I’ve dreamed about you too but, sadly no. Maybe tonight.

  2. I still watch LOST. It’s like a trianwreck and I can’t look away. BTW I actually laughed so hard that I snorted when you said LaPenis.

  3. I’m still watching ~ but I’m as lost as the damn show. Where are they/when are they…. who did what to who and when? I’m having trouble keeping up (I hope LaPenis doesn’t have the same trouble!)

  4. When they yelled his name out, I said to L “Did you hear that?! They said LA PENIS, LA PENIS!!!” So now I just call out LA PENIS anytime I want to find someone.

  5. i am so behind on lost as i’ve been away this past month. but this post made me want to get on it. and how do you remember your dreams so well? the minute i wake, the dream is lost.

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