So I had this dream last night, about which I mostly recall nothing, except that I repeatedly found myself in the lobby of a somewhat rundown theater. For some reason, I would suddenly have to leave, and instead of going out the front door, as any normal person would, I'd head down a narrow hallway with a dim EXIT sign at the end. Along the way, I'd pass a young woman talking on a pay phone. As I'd get to the door, she'd turn to me with some unintelligible words of advice. "What?" I'd ask, just as I stepped out the door--right into a puddle. Or snow bank. Or passing garbage truck.
Hilarity! Because the same thing keeps happening, you see, with slight variation, and, uh...
Okay, look, I know it's not that interesting. I wouldn't even bring it up, except for the fact that I've always maintained that the running gag is one of the lamest bits in the comedy repertoire, and yet here I am dreaming of one. But the point is, it's not funny in the least. So that's, you know...something?
Sigh.
Fine. Here's some actual entertainment: Marshall Crenshaw performing one of the songs I know I want played at my funeral.
