Getting ready for a little vacation...my Mom calls:

Mom: Hi Honey! Are you excited about your trip?
Translation: My God, you haven't even packed yet, have you? What happens if you forget something? Like adequate sunscreen-you could die of skin cancer, slowly, and alone in Arizona. You'll probably forget something anyway. You'll forget your toothbrush and your teeth will rot and fall out and then you'll be ugly and then how do you expect to get a boy to like you?
Me: Yes, Mom! I'm all packed to go and everything!

Mom: Oh! Well, that's good to hear. Did you get any money out for the trip, in case you have an emergency?
Translation: By the way, you're spending too much money.
Me: Yep, I remembered that too. Got some money out from the grocery store yesterday.

Mom: Great! Your Dad and I hope you have a good time, then. And tell BJ we said hello.
Translation: DON'T DO ANYTHING THAT WOULD MAKE THE BABY JESUS CRY!
Me: I'm sure it'll be fun. And I'll tell him.

Mom: I guess I'll get going then! Give me a call tomorrow when you get to the airport?
Translation: So we can have this conversation all over again.
Me: Okay, I'll have my cell phone!

Arizona, here I come.
And I really do love my Mom. But all the women in my family are just...quirky...

A little excitement in an otherwise dull day...

Okay, so how about a little on site reporting? I'm coming at ya live this afternoon from the lovely Bancroft Library, my place of employment. Recently I've started this new position at the regestration desk. We make sure to sufficiently terorize each person before they go in to ensure that they will have an adequate respect for the rare books materials that are housed here. It's a routine thing to ask patrons as they come in what sort of material they're looking for (that way we can harass them into looking in other libraries instead of bothering our ancient stuff if they don't really need to see it.) Enough background? Good.

So.
I'm sitting here, and because I'm bored and its summer and I have nothing else to read I'm reading Crime and Punishment. (Which is, by the way both a Crime and a Punishment :::ba dum, ching!::: Thanks, I'll be here all night...) And this guy comes into the lobby where I'm sitting...
Guy: Hi, ummm...I think this is where I'm supposed to be. I need a bunch of books.
Me: Alright. Do you have any specific titles that you need to see?
Guy: Umm, yeah, let me get my list.
Me: (waiting patiently with my pattented polite may I help you face. Generally disguises the fact that my job is to mistrust everyone who walks into my span of vision at the regestration desk.)
Guy: Oh, here's one. Do you have "Live Sex Acts: Women performing erotic labor," by so-and-so.
Me: (Did he just say the S word in THIS library?) Let me look that up for you, sir.
Guy: And how about editions of Playboy from the '70's.
Me: Are you serious, sir?

And then I do believe my sufficiently cocked eyebrow gave him cause enough to leave.
And now I'm sitting here. And I know that the University owns a copy of "Live Sex Acts: Women performing erotic labor" by Wendy Chapkis.

And I'm thinking that it's way too early in the morning for this!

I wake up panting early this morning after a terrible dream. And I remember the dream. And it is very, very scary. Give a listen to this:

My sister and I hear that there is a J.Crew sale in some building at Disneyland, so we break off from our family in Toon town and split to find this place. It's a sky scraper. In the middle of Dinseyland. All of these girls are leaving the store with bags and bags of low cost J.Crew merchandise and Lizzie and I can hardly wait to get in there. The building is infused with character references. A doorknob is goofy's head. Tiles on the floor are mickey mouse ears. It turns out that to get to J.Crew in the middle of Disneyland you have to get to the top of this skyscraper....we climb stairs, nothing's working. It also turns out that Disney is trying to trick you and not allow everyone into the sale...because they'd lose a lot of money. Sometimes when you open doors you step forward and there's nothing but a bottomless pit. This dream also feautred my sister and I trying to balance on iron crossbarring trying to get to an empty elevator shaft and then trying to pull ourselves up the elevator cables hand over hand. TO GET TO A J.CREW SALE!! At the end, I misplace my hand on the elevator cord, tug something the wrong way, and the elevator begins to descend upon us.

Soooo...let's take a quick inventory, shall we:
Skyscraper in the middle of Disneyland: Capitolism is taking over our childhoods. Those bastards. OR Disney is commercializing our childhoods. Those bastards.

My sister and I in trouble: Not unheard of, actually. Perhaps trying to cope with the capitolist encroachment upon our collective childhoods. We're relatively close in age. Also frequent shopping partners.

Bottomless pits, desceding elevators: Dream dictionary online says I may feel that my life is out of my control or that I'm descedning into levels of my subconscious to figure things out. OR, my life is going down the proverbial tubes. Sunshiny, really.

But this is the scariest part:
Risking my/my sister's life for a J.Crew sale: Sick. Just sick.