DREAM ON ... ONLY IN DREAMS ... RUNNIN' DOWN A DREAM.

I've been dreaming more than usual lately. Maybe because nothing very exciting has happened to me in real life in some time and my mind is taking over the excitement factor. Or perhaps I'm having visions of the future, a la Angela Petrelli. Observe. 

The one last night involved the blog. Somehow I figured out a way to blog on a TV screen, and it could be brought up on anybody's screen on a certain channel. So, I was at somebody's house Uptown, and everyone was reading The Gene Pool on a plasma. Oh, dreams. 

Then, we looked at the comment section, and this chick that no one seemed to know had commented on three posts in a row. She kept saying we should hang out. I thought it was someone somebody at the house knew, but no dice. Another person comes over, and that person says he knows the girl. 

And that's when I woke up. Cruel, I tell you. Cruel. 

My favorite dream was a few days ago when Jack Bauer and I were partners in stopping a terrorist threat. I made a crazy move out in the field that Jack didn't approve, but it worked. That's how I earned his respect. 

In the next hour, we came across some data that showed who was behind the threat. Jack and I were ready to move in on him. But first, we stopped at Wendy's. Which is weird because characters on 24 are hardly ever shown eating. 

And that's when I woke up. Or was shot. I'm not sure which. Jack and I made a hell of a team for about six hours, though. 

Speaking of dreams, I was in Jelly's dream the other day. She said she let me go on a date with her sister, but then I never called her afterward. Ouch. I would never do that. Never, Jelly.

Unless, of course, I didn't like her. 

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom is pissed beyond belief that the picture from her tape of Dancing with the Stars is jumping around. These took places over a 30-minute period while she tried to watch the show early Tuesday morning. "Motherfuck! ... (knocking over the ottoman:) Motherfuck! ... Why are you fucking doing this? ... This is bullshit. ... (hitting the TV:) Fucking piece of shit." 

Mom is watching CSI: Miami in the other room. Something happens. "What the fuck?" 

Mom is watching 24 (spoiler alert) while I'm trying to go to sleep. Ethan returns to the White House. "I told you. I told you. That's why he wasn't at the fucking White House (for the invasion). Traitor." 

When I wake up , I tell mom she's crazy for thinking Ethan is evil. "Shit. He wasn't there when everything went down in the fucking White House. Shit. Somebody's gotta be feeding them (the bad guys) the information. The president's daughter is fucking right. I'm glad she told his lil' ass off. ... Jack didn't see that shit (nerve gas) coming, huh? ... You don't know who that guy is with (Jon) Voight? (I say no.) I can't place that son of a bitch." 

Mom is watching Dancing with the Stars again Tuesday afternoon. Lawrence Taylor does a quick interview. "Excuses. Excuses. Just like a fucking football player." 

Mom called two people dickface Tuesday. 1) Somebody on Dancing with the Stars. I don't know who. 2) The idiot senator on 24. 

Mom is in the kitchen. "These blinds are so fucking dirty." 

Mom can't believe how long it takes me to watch a TV show in the dining room while she watches TV in the living room. "I done watched three fucking shows, and you're still on the first one." 

PARTING SHOT

Jelly is working on one of her pages Monday night.

Jelly: There are no NFL notes. 

Phil (looking at the wire): A Bucs linebacker got stabbed in the head by his girlfriend.

Jelly (excited): Ooooooooo! 

THE DAILY TOP LIST

Dinner and these movies. Yes.

55) Lion King. 1994.

Hakuna matata, indeed.

54) Goodfellas. 1990.

So gangsta. 

53) Meet the Parents. 2000.

Jesus was a carpenter. 

52) Face Off. 1997.

I'm pretty sure this is impossible. 

51) Groundhog Day. 1993.

Watch out for that first step.