50!

FUTURE PARTY GUESTS...

Well, I'm going to NOT post something to celebrate that this little hobby has kept my attention for a full month and fifty posts. Instead, I would like to share with you my weird experience this morning.

So all day yesterday I was singing "Criminal" by Fiona Apple. While it is a pretty popular song, it's from 1998 or something around there and usually doesn't play a lot out here on Ohio radio. We have a couple of "alternative" stations, one of them is 92.3. Unfortunately, it had been playing Rover's Morning Glory, a shock jock testosterone-fueled morning show that previous boyfriends had made me listen to until my head was about to explode. Well that got cancelled, which is AWESOME. And now 92.3, starting this week, has done away with any and all DJs and now just plays on random to save money (it was on the news last night). Poor DJs, but good for me!

So what is the first song I hear when I turn the radio on this morning? "Criminal"! Coincidence you say? How about the fact that before "Criminal" was stuck in my head... I was singing "No Sleep Till Brooklyn" by the Beastie Boys yesterday. Guess what the next song was? Yep. No. Sleep. Till BRROOKLYNNNN!

So you're probably all, "Who gives a fuck?" And really, no one does. I just thought it was oddly coincidental that I predicted the first two songs to play this morning without even realizing it on a station that only JUST started playing music in the morning again. It wasn't like a top 40 station. That's easy: it'll be a Rhianna song or it'll be a song with T-Payne in the background on his decoder. These were random songs from 10+ years ago.

I'm psychic.

So when I remembered my dreams from last night... I knew good things would be ahead. For example, I had a dream that I was dating the older plastic surgeon whose name I can never remember on "House." Not Olivia Wilde, not Omar Epps, not Kal Penn, not Hugh Laurie, no Sean Patrick Leonard (although Wilson is fiiiine)... the other guy. Reaffirming my theory that I love middle-aged men (by the way, I have a sudden reinterest in "House" after not watching for 2 years).

Then I had to get up to let my dog out at 1am.

Then I went back to sleep and had a dream I was at an 80s hip hop party and Simon Pegg (who I am so in love with that it's crossing over into delirious fantasy) was spinning on the turntable while Nick Frost did some awesome b-boy moves on a piece of cardboard.

Naturally I came to the conclusion that upon moving to Boston, I will date a plastic surgeon and have awesome hip hop parties at the new apartment where British actors come and entertain me.