I read this on Phoe from Elsewhere's livejournal.

"January 27th is the birthday of Lewis Carrol, author of ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND. Alice fell down a rabbit hole into a place where everything had changed and none of the rules could be counted on to apply anymore.

I say, let's do the same: January 27th, 2005 should be the First Annual LiveJournal Rabbit Hole Day. When you post on that Thursday, instead of the normal daily life and work and news and politics, write about the strange new world you have found yourself in for the day, with its strange new life and work and news and politics.

Are your pets talking back at you now? Has your child suddenly grown to full adulthood? Does everyone at work think you're someone else now? Did Bush step down from the White House to become a pro-circuit tap-dancer? Did Zoroastrian missionaries show up on your doorstep with literature in 3-D? Have you been placed under house arrest by bizarre insectoid women wielding clubs made of lunchmeat?

Let's have a day where nobody's life makes sense anymore, where any random LJ you click on will bring you some strange new tale. Let's all fall down the Rabbit Hole for 24 hours and see what's there. It will be beautiful.

This only works if you spread the word, so get it out there!"

And I'm all, "Man, I have to do that." Except I'm not creative enough to even come up with half of the above scenarios. And I'm horrible with dates, there is no reason why I wouldn't forget about it by then, or if I remembered, do it on the wrong day. But anyhow, I had to mention it on the off chance I did actually remember to do something on a particular day.

In other news, this happened to me ages ago (the same day where I'm nattering on about Garden State and Napoleon Dynamite and my sweet rebate) but it just popped into my head and I thought, "Hey, I'll make this entry longer and more boringer." I totally saw this guy I know from the study abroad trip in England a few years ago. No... no one cool. This old guy (part of an old couple) that was friends with the prof, so would come along on many of these trips, though they're apparently rich enough to go alone, and why would you want to hang out with a bunch of stupid college students if you're all old? But I digress. This couple totally has Christmas parties where, along with their real friends, they invite people they've been to trips on with. And I am totally nerdy enough to go to them, which is the only time I ever see them, which is why this was a big event. Except the last one, that I didn't go to cause I graduated that day. It was late enough I could've gone, but I was all depressed, and didn't want to make myself more so by going to a party full of old strangers.

Anyway, apparently he got a kareoke machine not that long ago, which I applaud for dedication to weirdness. Anyway, he was all trying to entice me to come over to their next party, in February, to bust a move on the thing because we'd all done kareoke in England. And I'm thinking, "I don't think even I'm lame enough to go to more than one of their parties per year. But on the other hand, I did miss their last one..." Anyway, I approve of kareoke in that I I think if more people would sing in public places the world would be a much more beautiful and whimsical place. But disprove of it, because people who do a lot of kareoke are invariably pathetic, even apart from the kareoke, and very rarely do people who actually sing well do it, so you're forced to listen to people's out of tune version of some Whitney Houston song that Whitney Houston probably doesn't even like. So a whole night of it at a house full of old strangers? I don't think I can handle it.

This guy loves talking too, I didn't mind talking/listening to him for awhile, but there's a certain point in the conversation of a chance encounter with someone you don't know very well, that you begin to feel trapped and want to get away very badly. You begin to understand those animals that gnaw off their ankle to get out of a trap. Only you know you don't even have that option, it wouldn't be polite at all to start gnawing on your own leg. I was very greatful when my Dad (I was at Best Buy with my parents, and we all tend to range freely in our various favorite sections and then check in with each other every once in awhile) came along and broke it up for me.

Maybe on the 27th, I can write a version of that encounter where we both turn into japanese fighting fish and go at it with nunchucks while badly singing Whitney Houston tunes.

everybody's talking about blowing up the neighborhood
everybody's gonna break it up today
everybody's talking about blowing up the neighborhood
all I ever wanted was to get away

--"Stuck in America," Sugarcult