Claudia and Duffy

Analyze These

Night before last I dreamed that I was chasing Eb with a watergun through the Galleria in Birmingham - a huge mall - and I caught up with him when he was in line to buy a corndog and I kicked him to the ground and soaked him with my rapid squirt-fire, thereby eliminating him from the Assassins game. This was the second dream I had about Eb and Assassins, and got so much fun out dreaming about it, even though I only had one real chance of actually killing him that I lost through a few seconds' misjudgement as to which side of Sanderson he was going to come out behind. Eb, you run fast and hide well. Congrats. I hope you win.

I found out last night before I went to bed that someone squealed and he knew I was contracted on him, so all the fun went out of it for me, but I got shot myself today anyway, so it doesn't really matter anymore. I'm just proud to have lasted this long. Eb, I don't hope you win enough to tell you who shot me.

Last night I dreamed that I was Dolly Parton.

I was a hairstylist and was trying to attract a new clientele with the punk rock crowd, so I was putting all this wax into this blond guy's dreads, trying to make them stand just so, and then I realized I needed to quit talking like a Southern bimbo (even though I was a Southern bimbo) if I wanted him to feel comfortable so I started throwing divers profanities and crude colloquialisms into my sentences and he ended up liking his hair so much he told me he'd bring in all his friends.

It was a horrifying dream. I wish all of you would be cursed with it, so you too would know what it is like to have Dolly Parton's body and personality and like it while you're asleep. This is totally Emily's Fault, for having me over to her house to watch Steel Magnolias. I told you it was a nice movie, haha.

My favorite recent dream involved President Nielson coming over to my house. He had a large fixture on the top of his head that looked like a yard-long mascara brush, and it had all this black gunk on it. For some reason this seemed rational enough; but I was very nervous about him wearing it inside my apartment, because I was afraid it was going to get on my furniture. I kept telling him to be careful but he started goofing off and then stood up and booty danced and the mascara got all over my ceiling, which made me furious, because I knew that I'd have to pay the school a fine for the damage to my apartment and while Prez Nielson may have money to deal with something like that, I sure don't, and I thought it pretty darn inconsiderate of him to do that to me.

(I forgive you, Dr. Nielson. I'm sure you would pay for it if you actually got mascara all over my apartment.)

Man, I have no idea where that one came from.

Posted by tuggy at 03.19.04 02:05