Last night I had a dream that included a fellow blogger. I dreamt that Astrid -- her hair dyed red like that girl in " Fifth Element" -- offered me a stack of pancakes to marry her.
"I'm already married," I told her
I must have said this aloud in my sleep, because my wife had a dream in which I walked in and told her that all these six and some-odd years I had already been married to another woman, so our marriage was null and void. When she woke up, she was angry at me.
"I was so mad, I was going to smash all the coffee mugs," my wife said.
That's pretty mad, I guess.
If Freud's assertion that dreams are repressed wishes is true it means that my wife is hoping that our marriage is a sham and I am hoping for some pancakes.
Evil is threatening my neighborhood.
Apparently having fun is against the law in Florida. Killjoys.
Who names their child Rad?
A rafting trip for terrorists seems like a disconnect. It's as if terrorist camps are run like those corporate motivational getaways. One wonders if they also had to do trust falls and egg-and-spoon races.
My favorite headline this week.
Gwen Stefani's new song sounds as if she is trying to initiate a The Cars revival. All hail the return of Ric Ocasek!
Good name for a band: Color-Coded Fear