Yikes

I had a dream last night (this morning, actually) that I was on a Segway chasing Oprah. She was supposed to meet a group of Japanese businessmen but misunderstood the directions. I saw her heading the wrong way and figured that if I didn't go after her and catch her, nobody else would.

I was two or three blocks behind her and kept yelling, "Hi! Oprah! Hoy!" but she didn't hear me. Eventually, she turned into a large mall parking lot where some kind of Evangelical rally was being held under a number of large, white tents. I cruised up and down looking for her, but couldn't find her.

Finally I gave up and decided to go and look for Oprah at her own house. When I got there, I looked throught the blinds into a sort of living room. Bette Midler was asleep on a sofa.

And then I woke up. The first thing that crossed my mind was to wonder whether I was drinking too much or perhaps not enough.

So what provoked this apparent outburst of subconscious metrosexuality? I haven't the remotest idea. The only thing I can figure is that last evening between innings of the Nats game I happened to flip on PBS and came across some cartoon featuring an animated Click and Clack, which I watched for about five horrified minutes. Perhaps the exposure to NPR set it off.