I had a strange dream involving school, a strange scavenger hunt, an old friend, and mind-altering drugs..

So, I woke up this morning and went back to sleep, and I had this really odd dream:

 

I kinda forgot how it started, but I remember going into my town’s high school and for some reason I had to go down a certain hallway (the interior looked nothing like the actual school, and I don’t even go to this school). I met up with a group of people my age, among them an old friend (a girl [I'ma guy]) who I’d been thinking about lately (haven’t seen her in a while). So we were all on the same team for some reason for a scavenger hunt that had to do with books we were reading for a class (don’t remember all of them; one was Cheaper By the Dozen); a montage occurred to the tune of the song “You Make Me” by “Weird Al” Yankovic (O_o).  It was in some weird library with humungous connected shelves, a desk with a huge encyclopedia and a normal-sized globe, a classroom-where the class was being held, some glass elevators that functioned in a way similar to the video game Elevator, and I believe I saw a Goomba from the Mario video games.

Time was running out (yes, there was a time limit), so I jumped off of the top of one of the shelves to where my where my group was. It was in a kinda crowded space, so I aimed and jumped, landing spawled across my friend’s lap.  I smiled nervously and moved. The teacher (who was my religion teacher O_o) was grading us on how what we found (which could be anything) tied in with our books (each person, even on the same team, had 5 different books). One person mentioned to him that he’d had this assignment in 7th grade, and another kid agreed. Then my teacher went into some weird psycho lecture and then destroyed the word “7th” by putting it on a medium-sized electric train and making it go on a track, in a place we could not see (WTF??).

A bell rang, and my friend and I talked a little before leaving the room. The entire time during that class, I’d tried to get close to her, as if I were attracted to her. As we were walking the halls (which somehow looked like the hallway of the school I go to suddenly), she offered me a Pixie Stick (the candy; y’know–colored sugar in a straw the same color?). It was open and the straw was wrapped in some yellowish, old, almost Egyptian-looking cloth, but I took it, saying, “Sure; how bad can it be?”  (For the record, it was a blue Pixie Stick.)

So I ate some, and I started feeling happier, so I ate some more, as my friend was talking. Soon, we went separate ways (to our lockers; she doesn’t even go to my school, though O_o), and everyone was smiling at me in the hallway, and saying hey and stuff as if I were the coolest kid in school. I threw out a lolipop (I don’t even know how I ended up with one) and then quickly retrieved it from the trash. Things seemed happy, bright, and sunny, and I was happy, as if in some sort of trance.  I had a feeling of euphoria, it seemed.  My teacher suddenly appeared in the classroom by my locker, though, and said “It’s all your fault, you know.” IDK why.  Also, saying something like that is very out-of-character for him, as he’s as kind as Jesus and as loving as God. 

Then, I saw out a window (and this is a strange part) there were two little girls, looked about seven or eight, in scantily clad swimwear, one with her butt sticking out my way (she was wearing what looked like a very short skirt and tight, thong-like panties, both of which were aquamarine), and for some reason I was drawn there, as if I were in some perverted trance, my eyes focused on the little girl’s butt.  I pulled myself away somehow and went towards my locker when I realized–I was in what seemed like a drug-induced altered state of mind.

I figured that the Pixie Stick wasn’t really candy, but instead a mind-altering drug like LSD or something. I was at my locker, but the numbers on the lock weren’t there! It looked more like the volume dial on a car radio or something. Things seemed sunny and bright, still, but I was scared, even in my euphoria.  I somehow got my locker open and woke up in the middle of wondering how I would know what books to get…

I’m freaked out.  I’m not a drug-user.  I’m not a pervert.  I’m not feeling guilty about anything (with the “It’s all your fault” part).  So does anyone have any idea what this could be about?  If anyone has an idea, you can post a comment here, or you can (if you have a Yahoo! account) answer it here (http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=Anxj84dCA5.eoSvNnX.hYzXsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20080525211005AA0BWvv) as I posted this on Yahoo! Answers as well.

The teacher becomes the student…

Have you ever been forced to do something you know that you don’t need to do?  At least you’re not like John Kallam.  There is an urban legend that this man, who had worked in criminal law for years, written several books on criminology, and had even been an investigator in the Nuremburg trials, got a job at Fresno State College (California State University, Fresno today).  Since he only had a bachelor’s degree, the college forced him to get a master’s degree or lose his job (which the school rudely explained that they were actually doing him a favor, as they were making the rest of the teachers get doctorates).

So our dear John Kallam enrolled out-of-state, figuring that three months of seminars and nine months of intensive study at home would get him his degree.  But, ironically, the textbook he needed to use in the class was a textbook that HE wrote.

Hey–stranger things have happened, right?  But don’t you just love the irony here?

 

To read more about this… http://www.snopes.com/college/admin/textbook.asp

Cannibalistically Algebraic (or, “Attempting to prove the humanity of cannibals”)

I have theorized that cannibals are technically the only humans that truly exist…and I have figured out a way to prove it using a simple algebraic equation and basic logic.

Firstly, we’ll let P be the variable for a type of person and x for the type of food someone predominantly eats.  And, of couse, as we all know, you are what you eat.  So P must be equal to x.  For example, I once knew a person who mainly eats pistachios, which are a type of nut (n).  So if P = n, we can conclude that that person is nuts.  Which is true, by the way.

Now, using the “Food Theorum”, as I call it, we can substitute P in for C (whch represents cannibals).  And since cannibals eat humans, we can sub in H for x.  Thusly, C = H, meaning that cannibals are humans.  Do any other people eat humans?  I don’t think so.

When will they start making pick-up lines that actually work?

In all my years of experience, if there’s one thing that never changes, it’s the inevitability of a pickup line failing.  I’ve tried it before, and I’ve found that girls really get tired of hearing why their feet are so tired. (CAUSE YOU’VE BEEN RUNNING THRU MY MIND BABY!!)

Who invented pick-up lines, anyway?  I’m guessing that long ago, way back when speech and conversations were first developed, some caveman or something (let’s call him Oog-Boog) thought he was so full of wit, when in reality he was only full of IT.  So Oog-Boog went up to some cave lay-dee (let’s call her Nicole) and said, “Oo-oog!!” (roughly translated, that means, “Hey, baby– let’s go invent FIRE!”) …Then Oog-Boog got a whooping from Nicole.  And so Nicole was sent to jail for attempted murder and Oog-Boog got all the glory for inventing the most useless invention ever!! HOORAY!! YAY JERK!!! W00t w00t!!!11!1!!!oneone!!

Pick up lines are so infamous, “Weird Al” Yankovic even wrote a son consisting of NOTHING BUT PICKUP LINES!!!  It’s called “Wanna B Ur Lovr” (lyrics here: http://www.com-www.com/weirdal/wannaburlovr.html).  Funny story I once heard is that at one of his concerts he went right up to a girl in the audience during this song, and she took out her camera phone, seizing the opportunity.  Even as he sang the song he just casually pushed the phone away and continued on through the crowd nonchalantly. 

But now I’m just digressing, so to get back to my original point…

The truth of the matter, there really is no pick-up line that works.  Except maybe, “Hello, my name is [your name here].”  And I ain’t talkin’ ’bout no Slim Shady.