
If
this is my dream I wonder why they're all scantily clad instead of not
clad at all. Why am I dressed like a sad Vegas tourist. Why are there
two of me? This dream sucks!
I am cradled in the arms of Morpheus, fast asleep, enjoying my
favorite dream. I am surrounded by a bevy of scantily clad supermodels.
If this is a dream I wonder why they’re scantily clad . There
are no rules to a dream so shouldn’t they be completely UN-clad.
Surely it’s acceptable to be frolicking with naked supermodels if it’s a dream. That’s not cheating? Right? Right?
(Maybe I need professional dream interpretation help.) In the midst
of my pathetically chaste dream I hear a rumbling and hacking rising
from deep within my subconscious. I wonder if one of my still
not nude supermodels is about to lose her lunch because she now
realizes who her fellow frolicker is. Maybe this is actually her dream and she’ll wake up and tell her friends about the nightmare she had.

My slightly sick imagination pictures this pillow fight.
(My slightly sick imagination pictures this conversation between Adriana Lima and Milla Jovovich while they are having a pillow fight.) Sorry, back to the topic now…
So I hear this rumbling, hacking, guttural sound mere inches from my
head. I awaken just as one of our sweet and loving cats hurls what
appears to be several days of worth of animal by-product and tuna bits
onto my pillow. The warm, piquant liquid cascades across my pillow.
My question for you is this: What would a sane, normal, well-adjusted person do in this situation? Continue reading →
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