See, when you've spent all day kind of weary (thanks in part to the dank weather, in which I actually went out for a bit and had to brush ice from my car's front windshield) and never quite catch up with blog-reading or comics-reading or anything else, the thing you don't want to do is have a dream about how Mom and Dad have decided to move into a huge-ass fantasy apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan that only exists on TV and, well, in dreams, and how they've made room for you and your husband to move in with them and there's something wrong that you can't put your finger on (because you're not dreaming lucidly) until your husband points out that there's no way in heck that you're both going to live with your parents, even rent-free, because you have a perfectly nice apartment about 10 miles north of there. And your mom is crushed but you stay overnight and offer to help out anyway, and you wind up splitting your time between blogging about the whole thing (because even in your dream you can't escape blogging!) and being in the kitchen making way too many things out of ground beef with her, a friend, and "Grandma" (my boss' mother-in-law who's kind of adopted the office). And you wake up more exhausted than ever, not wanting to see ground meat for a long, long time and entirely unsure of how you feel about blogging at this exact moment. Maybe I'll stick to movies today. Here's the trailer for the Worst Greatest Piece of Crap Film Ever (via Hanan but it's made the viral rounds). No, it's not Snakes on a Plane. Or Ground Meat in the Kitchen, either.
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