There’s No Plates Like Home
Last night I dreamt that I had recently and illicitly purchased some kind of special license plates for my mother’s car—they were diplomatic plates, or something. I was feeling quite satisfied with myself and this wonderful thing I’d done for her, when I suddenly realized that, in fact, the plates were illegal and could get my poor mother thrown in jail during any routine traffic stop if the police officer happened to suspect that she was not an actual diplomat. Deepening my concern was the fact that she was currently out driving, and could be ambushed by the Law at any minute!
I rushed back to the Old West-style saloon where I’d purchased said plates and looked for the crotchety old codger who’d sold them to me.
“You’ve gotta give me back my old plates! You can have these back.” (How did I have the plates when my mother was out driving with them on her car? It’s just a dream.)
“Well, sonny boy, I can give you yer money back, but them plates was in the garbage, and it done got picked up an hour ago,” said the gnarly Western dude.
“Crap!” I said, and ran out to track down the garbage man. “What if those plates were from a stolen car?” I thought as I raced through the center of the ghost town, tumbleweeds blowing alongside me. “What if some outlaws killed that diplomat, and stole the plates from his car! The Law is gonna think my mom did it! I’ve got to get her old plates from the garbage and find her before the Marshal does! Man, is she gonna be mad if they throw her in jail because of this!”
I woke up, frantic, and slowly deduced over the course of the next few disoriented minutes that a) it was a dream, so b) I didn’t have to find the garbage man, and c) my mother is no longer with us, so d) she wouldn’t be mad that I’d screwed up her license plates. But I was pretty nervous for a minute there.
Kindly Acts of Randomness, vol. mxcvii
- NBG: What’s up with WULAD?
Me: You mean how boring it’s been lately?
NBG: No, I mean it doesn’t show up. Nothing there.
Me: Just hit refresh.
NBG: I tried that! It doesn’t work.
Me: Not my fault. Blogger’s been janky ever since Google bought it.
- Words can’t describe this. Just get ready for some awesome. (Via C-baby.)
- The squirrel took the yellow ribbons! The traitorous, America-hating squirrel. The family’s response: name the squirrel “Patriot.” Next on the agenda: legally change Al Qaeda’s name to “Daughters of the American Revolution,” and watch as they end terrorist activities to free up more time for baking pies.
- Arguably lovable local morning news curmudgeon Ross McGowan on Bill Clinton’s blockbuster book-signing appearances this week: “He must be loving all this, I’ll bet he can’t wait to count all that money. He’s really making a lot of money off this.”
- Speaking of dreams, coworker who shall remain nameless: “You should’ve heard about my dream last week. There were naked men, and waterfalls, all kinds of shit.”
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