I had this totally crazy dream last night that featured Wil Wheaton as himself. Normally I really don’t care about celebrity sightings, but in my dream, I was sitting outdoors at a café in LA and I saw Wil across the street, walking towards me. I just knew I had to walk up to him and compliment him on his writing. I knew that he would be impressed that I didn’t just want to see how tall he was, because I had always hoped he was taller than I, in lieu of my infatuation with Jean-Claude Van Damme that fell short (haha pun intended). He would be impressed that such a charismatic, intelligent, poised, and gorgeous woman read his website and enjoyed his book, even crying at the parts I was supposed to cry at. Then he would totally fall in love with me.
So, in the dream, I get up to him, and turned into a blabbering idiot. I gushed my few chosen words at him, and turned away in self-pity and embarrassment. He, being the caring person he is, felt sorry for me, of course, and put his hand on my shoulder as I was turning away. As he did this, LA turned into Boise, and he let me know that he was hopelessly lost (read: without me), and asked if I could help him (read: get his groove on). Could I? Hoo boy. So, we went back to my house (le duh). From there, things got awkward, just like it would in real life. Turns out our hero was just attempting to find the Boise Public Library (!).
So no heavy petting went on between the Wil and I. Nothing happened whatsoever that would make the dream just oh-so-super-kickass. At least I got to meet Wil Wheaton.
I’m thinking I need to get out of my own obsessive 13-year-old mind.
In other news, I dropped the boy off at the airport this morning for his trip to Europe. For some reason, no one in his family can show up on time for anything, so of course, when we get there, it is 1 hour before his plane leaves. This would normally be fine, as it’s 5.30AM in Boise, and there are hardly any people getting on a plane this early, only his mom left the paper (!) airplane tickets at her house, which they needed to be able to, well, check luggage and board the plane. Her house just happens to be all the way across town from the airport, and it usually takes about 20 minutes to get to from said airport. Need I remind you that the plane was leaving in (now less than) 1 hour? So Devlyn got to drive 75MPH down I-84 to the B’s mom’s house (with the B) to pick up these tickets in the dark pouring rain. What excitement!
I’m assuming the B was able to “catch” his plane (they were holding the flight until he got back), as I haven’t heard from him, and he should have landed in LA by now. I got him back safely to the airport 18 minutes before the scheduled departure. I rock. The party. That rocks. The party.
Your mad driving skilz sound like fun, and there aren't many people out that early in the morning (I'm hoping). But still. IRRITATING!!! I might be a titch stabby, in your shoes.
ms. chan
Posted by: amychan at April 21, 2004 11:23 AM