100

Happy Autumn!

Man, I can't believe that there are only 100 days left in Twenty Aught Five. And, hey, that means only three hundred and eight days until the end of the world! Woo doggy.

Last night we watched Destination Lost - which was an hour long recap of the first season of Lost - then the season premiere of Lost (episode entitled Man of Science, Man of Faith. Spoiler tagged thoughts to follow.) and then, against my better judgment, we stayed up and watched the series premiere of Invasion.
I am, therefore, very very tired.
And it's only Thursday.

At least Steph and Harper should be having fun. They're finally going out to Red Rock to celebrate Talk Like a Pirate Day and the autumnal equinox and just hang out with the Las Vegas Life Learners. I really do miss getting to interact with that group.

So. TV.
Time for Man of Science, Man of Faith spoilers!
Highlight to view:

The hatch contains the '70s?!? No wonder it was quarantined.
Group of government officials gathered around a board room: "Gentlemen, we must not let the 70s out!" "Let's lock it in a bunker on a deserted island in the South Pacific." "Agreed."

heh.

I think that Walt was Not Walt, but a psychic message. Or Shannon going all nutty from lack of sleep and food. Of course, her delusion just happening to be a soaking wet Walt is a bit of a coincidence, but you know what I say about coincidence. (Reminder of what I say about coincidence: "Never underestimate the power of coincidence." - P@)

Speaking of coincidence (because I haven't typed that word enough times yet.) - Dr. Jack's future wife was in an accident with a guy who died at 8:15. Mmm. Numbers. Also, apparently (I found this out online, didn't catch it while watching originally), the man who died was Adam Rutherford - Shannon's father.
Also coincidentally, Desmond (anagrams into "demons" and has a "d" left over. It'll be interesting to see what his last name is) has met up with (at least) Dr. Jack previously.
Interesting.

I wonder if the inside of the hatch will be the main focus of this season. There's got to be another way out, because climbing up and down the cable would be pretty tedious, I think.

Um. I guess that's it. Like Steph said, Lost isn't long enough. It's fun while you're watching it, and it usually gives you stuff to mull over for a while, but then you just have to wait for the next episode. Sigh.

Invasion, which I had high hopes for, turned out to be pretty slow. Or maybe I was just too tired to really get into it. Plus Irina was not happy during a lot of it. But it seemed that the majority of last night's episode had already been shown from the trailers. I don't know. I'll probably give it a couple more episodes and see if it picks up.

Oh! I totally wanted to blog about a dream I had a few nights back.

There was a flash of light, and then every person on the planet who was over the age of thirty (um, except for me, for some reason) had been turned into a potato.

Yeah. I know.

It sounds funny now, but during the dream, it was a horrible thing. It was sad and scary and surreal.
It got sadder and scarier and surreal..er, though, when the TV I was watching (in a bar?) had a press conference in front of the White House. A man carrying a potato came up to the podium and set the potato in front of a microphone. The potato had George Bushesque Mr. Potato Head facial parts put into it, and someone was obviously doing a George Bush imitation to provide a speech to the American People.
Un. Real.
I was disgusted that despite the fact that a good portion of the world was now starchy, some folks (and they would all have to be under thirty!) wanted to continue the charade that "everything was under control".  The worst part is, I'm sure that's how it would probably play out in real life.
Um. You know. If people turned into potatoes.

Anyway, I then started talking to a woman in the bar who claimed that we had talked to each other online. She said her screen name was cindy_steph. (Huh.)
She asked me if I had read the Stephen King article she'd found. At the mention of Stephen King's name, I started bawling, because I realized that the prolific writer was now a potato. The enormity of the potato-change just overwhelmed me.
When I recovered from my emotional breakdown, cindy_steph told me about the article. In it, apparently, Stephen King had been on an airplane talking to a stranger about voodoo spells and how potatoes were sometimes involved.

That's all I can recall from the dream.

And right now I'm only at 825 words. I still need another four hundred and twenty five before meeting my daily quota. Dude.
I will just have to try and blog again later, because right now i am just plum out of ideas. (Heh. Plum.)
Maybe after Survivor tonight I will have more to say.