Last night I dreamt I was involved in some big, live action video game, like maybe one of those obstacle course reality shows from Japan, only I didn't see any audience or host. I was with a girl I didn't recognise who wore blue jeans and had long, dyed red hair. The course went through a cartoonish, plain looking house that was unnaturally extended into a labyrinth of bright yellow walls, brown sofas, tables, and green bars. We were almost at the last boss, but before we could fight him, we both realised we had to pee. She squatted then and there, but I was chased by rottweilers into a room filled with sleepy white kittens and it just didn't seem right trying to pee there.
The episode of Battlestar Galactica I watched last night, the fifth episode of the first season, may as well have been part of the dream for all the sense it made. First of all, I found it a little hard to believe Commander Adama would really jeopardise the safety of the entire human race to look for Starbuck. But, okay, let's say he was influenced by his emotions. We still then are expected to swallow that Starbuck, with her oxygen supply at critical, took the time to write her name in big, blocky letters on the underside of an alien craft she'd shot down whose biomechanical technology she had no familiarity with, yet she was nonetheless able to access the oxygen supply, repair, and fly back into space. If Katee Sackoff weren't so much fun to watch, I'd have never gotten through the episode.
The episode before had been pretty goofy, too, but at least it had a nice scene between Sackoff and Edward James Olmos, the show's two best actors.
I hope President Roslin dies from her cancer pretty soon. I don't know how much more I can take of her bland and conceited presence.
I got a lot done yesterday, but I've a lot to do to-day . . .