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Love is in my dreams
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Sep. 9th, 2005 | 06:23 pm
mood: out of it
music: guess
I took sleeping pills last night and as a result had some fucked up dreams (and I'm dead-ass tired at work). I would like to share some of the remembered highlights:
I was hanging out with Courtney Love. Just chillin' like we were old buddies. We were riffing on Madonna 'n shit. Our conversation was a true gem and I told her a joke I had written for her for the Pam Anderson roast. So, she got up and said the only difference between her and Pam was that Pam dates musicians and Courtney dates good musicians. I told her then she should have said, "I mean Kid Rock? C'mon I wouldn't fuck Kid Rock with my own dick." Courtney laughed. Then, she started getting coquettish and flirty. She was like, "Come on Brian. Give it a try. You might like it." I retorted, "Courtney, if I got a close up glimpse of your vagina my only impulse would be to redecorate and maybe dust. I'd have to go to Pottery Barn and Pier 1 and make up a list 'n shit. I'd be waiting in lines at Ikea. It's just too great of an endeavor." I plan on using that in the future. I wish I would write more jokes in my sleep. It saves on time and they can be surprisingly sensical.
I was going to include some more, but now I'm having too much trouble conjuring up a coherent picture of them. That's why you should write that shit down when you wake up, but who feels like turning on the light? Not me.
I think I'm going to ask to leave early tonight. I'm tired and cranky and want to go home. It just sucks that I can't go to Sonar b/c of the damn missing I.D. I'm not sure how to go about getting another one either since my S.S. card was in the same wallet that was lost with the license. Argh. I suppose I should locate my birth certificate. I wonder what the bouncer would do if I presented him with my B.C. That'd be funny. If my badge for work had my birth date on it all would be well - it is after all a government issued I.D. but alas it doesn't. Ho hum. I hope whoever is working B.J.'s remembers me. I'll stop there on my way home and give it a shot. It seems like whenever I have the I.D. its someone who knows me and I don't get carded and whenever I lose it they're training a new guy. Boo to that! It always makes me feel like a criminal. Eat your heart out Fiona.
I'll update a little later. Its going to be rough, though b/c I don't remember a lot of the weekend. Everything remains in a strange blur of vodka (my favorite kind of blur second only to Damon Albarn and his band).
I was hanging out with Courtney Love. Just chillin' like we were old buddies. We were riffing on Madonna 'n shit. Our conversation was a true gem and I told her a joke I had written for her for the Pam Anderson roast. So, she got up and said the only difference between her and Pam was that Pam dates musicians and Courtney dates good musicians. I told her then she should have said, "I mean Kid Rock? C'mon I wouldn't fuck Kid Rock with my own dick." Courtney laughed. Then, she started getting coquettish and flirty. She was like, "Come on Brian. Give it a try. You might like it." I retorted, "Courtney, if I got a close up glimpse of your vagina my only impulse would be to redecorate and maybe dust. I'd have to go to Pottery Barn and Pier 1 and make up a list 'n shit. I'd be waiting in lines at Ikea. It's just too great of an endeavor." I plan on using that in the future. I wish I would write more jokes in my sleep. It saves on time and they can be surprisingly sensical.
I was going to include some more, but now I'm having too much trouble conjuring up a coherent picture of them. That's why you should write that shit down when you wake up, but who feels like turning on the light? Not me.
I think I'm going to ask to leave early tonight. I'm tired and cranky and want to go home. It just sucks that I can't go to Sonar b/c of the damn missing I.D. I'm not sure how to go about getting another one either since my S.S. card was in the same wallet that was lost with the license. Argh. I suppose I should locate my birth certificate. I wonder what the bouncer would do if I presented him with my B.C. That'd be funny. If my badge for work had my birth date on it all would be well - it is after all a government issued I.D. but alas it doesn't. Ho hum. I hope whoever is working B.J.'s remembers me. I'll stop there on my way home and give it a shot. It seems like whenever I have the I.D. its someone who knows me and I don't get carded and whenever I lose it they're training a new guy. Boo to that! It always makes me feel like a criminal. Eat your heart out Fiona.
I'll update a little later. Its going to be rough, though b/c I don't remember a lot of the weekend. Everything remains in a strange blur of vodka (my favorite kind of blur second only to Damon Albarn and his band).
