Running Zack, Blogging Chris

This morning, my alarm went off at 6:07 AM. I promptly pummeled it with a right cross.

This not only stopped its screeching of a Pussycat Dolls song, but also managed to disable the snooze bar. There’s a couple things worth noting here. First, I firmly believe that alarm clocks should not be set to rounded times, like 6:00 or even 6:10. The fact that you look up and see 6:07, and try and figure out why you set it for such an odd time gets the brain going and by the time you remember, “Right, it’s because I’m a complete weirdo,” you are awake enough that snoozing is not as attractive. Second, this line of logic didn’t work this morning because I didn’t even recognize the glowing-green digits on my clock – the Pussycat Dolls put me into a blind rage, apparently. Crappy music has that effect on Condon.

But this did allow me to have a vivid dream for once. Waking up unprovoked some 90 minutes later (and late, for that matter), I jumped out of bed and was in the shower in a matter of mere seconds. And as I stood there contemplating the display of blinding speed I just produced, my mind cleared and thought back to the dream I knocked myself awake from. (However, zoning out at such a time does have one main drawback. It’s called “shampoo in the eyes.”)

I dreamt that I was in charge of writing not a book, but an audiobook. Apparently there was no need to bring ink and paper into this. The topic was to be a satirical look at our 50 United States. Now I know on a recent road trip I had listened to the audiobook version of the Daily Show’s America the Book, and as real life often influenced REM life, I’m sure there’s a connection. But the task of writing an audiobook quickly expanded in my dream into a screenplay, whereby friends were counting on me to finish their parts so they would know their lines in time for filming. How they got roles in my film without belong to SAG, beats me. At some point in this dream, I think I was in charge of costumes, too, but I can’t really remember. The shampoo really stung my eyes.

While details are soapy, the one thing I know is that whatever I was writing turned to gold in the eyes of friends and critics in the dream. That’s pretty remarkable since I don’t think I have enough satiric comedy to lampoon Oregon – which was the first chapter. (???) I don’t question my ability to make little sense in dreams – I once dreamt that I was canoeing through my hometown with Matt Weng, because he had told me that there was a global shortage of vinyl siding, and all new houses were being built using toast. (I know what you’re thinking and 1) the roads were flooded, enabling the canoeing, and 2) I’ve never taken drugs, despite the aforementioned dream’s inclination to make you think so.)

However, like Martin Luther King Jr., Benny “The Jet” Rodriguez, Zack Morris, and hundreds of others who have seen their future while asleep, I have taken this as a sign. You see, YAB is a mere 10 posts from the big 5-0-0. And in order to commemorate such an occasion, YAB is going all-out this week. Expect the following two things by week’s end.

1 – A 29 percent decrease in backdating! That’s right. By bringing the funny 11 times this week instead of the usual 5, we’ll hit 500 just 15 off the pace of 1 every weekday since inception. This morning we were at 21. Make that 20 now. Two-a-days, coming your way.

2 – Scheduled to drop at 1pm this Friday, the most impressive blog post you’ll ever see. Number 500 is not to be taken lightly.

Better set your alarms. (may we suggest 12:57?)