the cyrotube contains mythology...

This thing has been floating about LJ, apparently. Surrealist text-based adventure game. I died (thanks, Sam, for killing me), but, like poisoninjest, I found the lj-interest-based texts more amusing than anything else...

You find yourself in a gas-filled firing range. You hear the sound of ashland echoing through ventilation shafts.
I would prefer to hear the sound of ashland in person, but if I don't manage to get down there this summer, I guess hearing it through ventilation shafts is the next best thing...

You find yourself in a cramped recreation room. A warning sign on the wall mentions werewolves.
I feel that at this point in my speculative-fiction career I ought not to need a warning sign.

You find yourself in a zero-gravity security station. The outpost's computer alerts you to renaissance history.
Ha, wouldn't that be cool...

Anyway, mostly I'm just amusing myself. I'm done with my food break so I should get back to data reports. Have I mentioned that data reports & excel are now my enemies? Although my coworker rocks my world. I think we might figure out a scheduling fix so that I can help out on Arabian Nights...ooo, please.

& in other news, all my super-secret plans for Joel's birthday went well, as did the part I didn't plan; yesterday was loads of fun. I have decided that I need to spend more time in parks this summer. That is all.

here, professor, have an egg

I also want to write, for posterity, the dream I had this morning, which I remembered in fragments as I was waking up. vazavati was there with me, & we were in a grocery store that was also a school. The workers & stockers & clerks at the store were all school staff as well. Emily & I were walking through the store, looking for various things (is this analogous to shopping for classes? I'm not sure), & talking about theater, specifically Arcadia. We were enthusing about the play in general & how amazing it was, & I said that we should try to do it at school (meaning of course our grocery store academy). At the same time we were also enthusing about a professor at school, Professor Harvey I believe, who was one of those fabulous teachers with crazy interpretations that impresses all his students; we were talking about how we could get him involved, directing or being in the play. The dream jumped & Emily was not with me anymore, & I was heading to a meeting with Professor Harvey. Instead of bringing him homework I was bringing him a hardboiled egg, which I found in the store (it was a really lovely egg; sort of spotted). His office was in the cold section--a glass door next to the milk that opened onto a pleasant little room with chairs & a desk & books. I didn't dream the meeting, but I remember liking the office rather a lot.