No one ever talks about the horrible side effects of watching too much reality TV. Sure I may find Nick and Jessica funny, and the mouth on Paris and Nicole amusing, but really I don't want to dream about them. I have a sickness.

In my waking dreams last night I was transported to a rather grand wedding with friends and family. It was a crazy complex lined with marble hallways and contained a red theatre full of pub chairs and a dining hall with one extremely long table garbed in red linens and the best china. Outside the complex was a motel with random rooms that felt like they had been pieced together from cottages and trailer parks.

This wedding was for Nick Lachey and Jessica Simpson, and I can't even fathom why my family and friends were there. You had the option of watching the ceremony in the theatre or heading to the dining hall. I got separated from everyone and couldn't decide what to do.

I checked out the dining hall to find Julie and Kurt sipping the bubbly and pounding back caviar covered crackers. A quick conversation revealed they had no idea why they were there anyway, so they thought they would make the best of it and have a nice meal. Kurt was also opposed to anyone who was once in a boy band.

Next was the ceremony, the theatre was dark and I couldn't find anyone I knew to sit with. Nick was crooning away on some song as I sat in the back row. Looking over I realized I knew the person beside me from several years ago. She started babbling louder and louder. I tried incessantly to quiet her, sshing the best I could. It wasn't good enough. Jessica Simpson was sitting two rows ahead and kicked us out for disturbing her wedding.

With no where to go I went back to my motel room and lay on the bed until people came back. Em came in and proceeded to change into her dinner outfit. Once down to her under garments, my mother entered the motel room. I panicked and warned Em, and she dashed into the bathroom. Unfortunately not fast enough as my mother saw her and proceeded to chase after her calling out names. That's when I woke up.

Inappropriate thought of the day - I saw an elderly woman on my way to the gym. As I walked by she stared at me and I couldn't help stare back into her glinting brown overtly crossed eyes. I did my best to block it from my mind, but all I could think about was a comment the other day someone had made about banging a girl until her eyes crossed. My poor mind contemplated this thought for the next hour wondering how old she had been when it happened, and how sad no one had banged her again since.

This morning I was trying to remember the last time I had gone drinking since the debauchery of last night. At first I thought it had been 2 weeks ago at a BBQ. But, then I remembered I had drank steadily on Friday night, oh wait I had a couple pints on Thursday. Clearly I have a drinking problem.

I know last night was a good adventure. Even if I couldn't remember anything, which is a good sign in itself, I have the bruise on my hip. Bruises mean chaos definitely occurred or you drank to much. Definitely the former in my case. The bruise was the result of a bowling incident, which was after we spent a good deal of time drinking wine on the roof of my apartment building, making inappropriate shadow puppets with the setting sun and watching spit swirl down in spermy spirals (the girls choice of descriptive words).

I should have known something bad was going to happen when the rule was made that we should flash our team members everything we made a strike. I don't even want to think of what would happen if someone had gotten a turkey. In the fourth frame of the second game my bowler's thumb was flaring up and I couldn't bowl well at all anymore. I went in for a spare when a large boot went flying by me and made it's way down the alley a few feet. I had no choice but to go rescue it. After the second step, time slowed to a halt as my feet swept out from under me and I landed with a thud in the middle of the lane. I quickly reached out for the boot, threw at the onlooking crowd and attempted to get up. At this time I would like to point out that bowling alleys mean business when they wax those lanes. I couldn't get up and was poised something like a tortoise on it's back unable to move. Gaining some momentum I was able to make it to a less slick surface and finally make it back to my beer.

Perhaps still straddling the line between heathen and christian is why I found Saved! to be such a funny movie. It was full of sublte jokes that if you weren't listening or didn't have a dirty mind you just wouldn't have gotten (you mother went into that missionary position, is still making me laugh even though hardly anyone else in the theatre was). Anyway, I think it was worth the price of admission, which is rare for me lately.

Prayer works, it's been medically proven.

The big question is, where do those swingers get there money. I was watching the new reality show Casino on Monday night, didn't mean to, but got caught in the vortex that is tv. Anyway the big plot twist had to do with swingers at the casino and they chose some prey, and tried to get them to play their swinger games like hide the sausage and isn't it sexy when I kiss your girlfriend. The prey decided to check it out and were whisked away in an SUV limo to the bar, and eventually back to a huge hotel suite where the main event was to go down. The whole time instead of thinking of all the implications of swinging, or if I would do it, or what sort of action they were going to show on TV, I was thinking where is all this money coming from? It doesn't seem like an ideal corporate sponsorship opportunity. I mean you aren't going to show up and get passed branded condoms are you? So where does the money come from? Does each couple pay? Does that make them johns or prostitutes. It just boggles the mind.

I've always enjoyed watermelon, I even eat with a spoon. Slowly hollowing it out until it's only a sad shell. If you had to decide, what would you say tasted better - watermelon with or without seeds? I've noticed lately that the choice was made for us. When did that happen anyway? What are millions of kids going to spit at their siblings on a sunny afternoon at the park? When is that watermelon tree going to grow in my stomach? What will spit or swallow refer to?

Yes, I am grasping.

My office is getting a little too quiet for me. Sure it's nice if you want to be productive, but my options are slim when it comes to slacking off. I really miss not having someone to go grab a drink with or just sit down and chat. But what really gets me is that when I get a mystery package at the office there is no where and no one to share in the joy of popping the bubble wrap!

Mac News: Analysis : The iPod-iTunes Phenomenon

Mac News: Analysis : The iPod-iTunes Phenomenon

Damn, this is the coolest thing ever. Makes me want to replace my wirless hub. Airport Express!