My Real Name Is Mephistopheles
But You Can Call Me Baby

I have about fifty-six million, one hundred and eighty-two thousand things I need to be doing. Things I could be doing. Things I should be doing. Things like sleeping or eating or saving the world or figuring out how to hook up my VCR, DVD player, and cable box so that they all work instead of just one working while the other two stare at me mockingly or dyeing my hair or reading one of the 10 books sitting on my desk waiting to be read or volunteering to be a candy striper at the hospital or washing my walls to get rid of those pesky blood stains .


What I Don't Need To Be Doing, Shouldn't Be Doing,
But Am Doing Anyway
Because When I Kill Time, I Kill It Dead

1. Rewriting Whitney Houston's Greatest Love Of All to include words like "nougaty goodness" and "mental institution". Because I can. Except when I say "can" I don't mean legally. I mean figuratively. Or hypothetically. Or some other word ending in "ly".


2. Imagining movie sequels that are not likely to happen, but should happen. I mean is there really anyone out there who doesn't think it would be cool if they made a sequel to Dances With Wolves, only instead of wolves they had My Little Ponies, and instead of Kevin Costner they had Jack Nicholson? And not just Jack Nicholson, but Jack Nicholson in his military uniform from A Few Good Men shouting "You want the truth? You can't handle the truth!" at the Roller Skating Ponies. Yeah, I would definitely pay $9.00 to see that.


3. Consulting my psychic friend/psychology college text books/ouija board/the faces in my spaghettios to try to ascertain what it means when you dream you're in a wheelchair. In Africa. Wheeling yourself down a hill and into an alligator infested swamp. All the while carrying a brown paper bag in your lap. Yeah, I just can't get a handle on this one.
But maybe it has something to do with how I had just seen Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, which you should take my word for and not the drunk guy sitting in front of me who laughed hysterically through the first half of the movie and then passed out into the aisle for the second half, and go see it, and not just because I'm pretty sure Charlie Kaufman based Kate Winslet's character on me, well minus the alcohol problem, if you can call it a problem, but also because it's just good, damn it.


Well. That was fun. But I think I will go play in traffic now. Or I would if there was any traffic at 1:30 in the freaking morning. So maybe I won't. But I will think about playing in traffic. And then I will maybe go to sleep and pretend I'm in a coma as a result of the imaginary playing in traffic. And then maybe you will come visit me and leave me flowers that I can't see because they're not real and I'm not really in a coma anyway. Yeah, that would be nice.