I just spent a whole dream being bitched out.  In this dream, I had previously sent Scott Baio a short letter informing him that some devoted fans had created an entire website full of crossword puzzles about him and his Arrested Development character Bob Loblaw.  He sent me a very lengthy letter in return through his agent, and included an advertisement for the latest stop in the tour for his book "My Real Life Is Boring," which happened to inconveniently be on the University of Nebraska-Lincoln campus.  (Incidentally, if this letter is how he writes, he must have had a good editor for his book.)  According to his letter, my transgressions for sending this letter included:

• Wasting the time of an important TV star
• Wasting his precious touring time
• Obsessing about him an unhealthy amount (these weren't my crosswords; I was just passing the information)
• Posting very factually inaccurate information about him online
• Failing to understand the distinction between Scott Baio the actor and Bob Loblaw the character
• Failing to focus on other aspects of his career, such as a writer
• Wasting his time in general

There were other complaints, but those are the ones I recall.  I was pretty annoyed at the mild irony in him writing me back with factually inaccurate information and failing to understand the distinction between me and the people writing crossword puzzles about him, but for some reason I decided to write back a curt apology and send him back a golf club as a gift.  I don't know why I was sending a golf club, or why I thought that tinfoil would be an appropriate wrapping paper for it.  Once I had wrapped my letter and the club, I realized I didn't have an address—my original letter was an email.  How did he (or his agent) get my address anyway?  And then I woke up.

Labels: dreams

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