I had a dream that I was remaking Gangs of New York so that it would actually be good.

Then I woke up and the phone was ringing and the boss was saying that the window at the store was busted and everyone else was off sick. I checked, but I actually was awake.

Last night, we went to an amateur production of Oedipus (a boy who really loved his mother). Thanks to half a bottle of wine and the poor acting and staging there were quite unseemly giggles coming from our section of the theatre in the final scene. I don't think Oedipus ranting at his daughters about how fucking awful their lives are going to be now is really supposed to be comedic, but all I could think was: "Gee, thanks Dad. And by the way, EW!"