Last night, I had the filthiest dream.� I know, nothing new, but I really did not like this one.
Hillary Duff and Hunter (no idea why it was them) got me into the pornography business.� Not just softcore type Playboy stuff, but hardcore porn.� Nasty type stuff.� Like Missy Monroe. -shudders-.� (no milk was involved).� I became a leader in the business, and I was -proud- of myself!� Wtf, mate?� I realized that this was only a dream when I was dreaming, but I couldn’t get myself to snap out of it.� I woke up disgusted with myself and took a shower.
But you see… whenever I haev nightmares, real ones, like someone’s cutting me up into little pieces, or someone has skinned Pete and hung him up in the laundry room, or my brother is eaten alive by clowns, I don’t realize it’s a dream.� I think it’s real, and it scares the fuck out of me.� I don’t think there is any way out, because, geez, if someone had you chained down and is chopping you up, piece by piece, wouldn’t you give up?� Alot of the time, I don’t realize it was a dream until minutes after I wake up.
In September, when Jade and I were just planning our trip to New York, I dreamt that my mum bought us tickets to see Spamalot… and they were only $4 each.� I woke up, went to school, and all day, I told people of my great news.� I went to work and told people.� I came home, hugged my mum, and thanked her.� “For what?”� It was then that I realized it was a dream.� I felt like such a rube.
There are so many other instances that prove that I can’t differentiate between fiction and reality, but for some reason, I could last night.
But before I forget, one of my friends had a really weird dream, but he wouldn’t tell me before I told him “the most fucked up dream I’ve ever had.”� I told him about when I went to the family reunion, and my mum ran away from me, screaming, because my forehead was bleeding in the shape of a cross…
…
…But anywho, this friend of mine– let’s call him…Snoopy….–� dreamt that he had sex with his sister.� Not only did he dream that he had sex with her, but he said that it was the most graphic sexual dream he’s ever had.� No, folks, he’s -not- from Tennessee.� He’s Canadian.
Some stuff at the hospital fell through, and I won’t start working with Dr.�Norsworthy until next week, so I went to the nursing home with Hogg and Sarah.
This is what Miss Dolly told me:
1.� I look pregnant.
2.� I look 30.
3.� I look 11.
4.� Her vagina hurts.
5.� Her hemerroids are bleeding.
She also asked me what it was like to have sex with Ernesto, her hot physical therapist, because, apparently, I’m sleeping with him.� I’m sure Hog told her that.� Thanks, Hog.� Oh, and she told me I was a bitch for calling Hog Hog.� Actually, Sarah and I were mean to Hog yesterday, but we’re always mean to her.� She’s little and we pick on her, but only because we love her.
She was in my bathroom yesterday reloading and Sarah and I kept openning the door.� Ah, friendship.
Also, at Beth’s party, we were watching unfaithful (a very dirty movie… I like it) and we were talking through the whole thing.� However, Hog whispered something to Beth at the end of the movie, and I yelled, “SHUT THE FUCK UP, HOG!”
Icky sent me some of his music.� I’m quite impressed.
Oh yeah, old people.� Miss Zelma told me that she loved me and asked me to be her lover.� She kept hugging me and patting my ass.� Miss Georgie, who has severe Alzheimers with Parkinsons, was playing with her dolls, making them kiss (nakedly, of course) was playing with this pillowcase for an hour, trying to get it straight across her little table.� That reminded me of myself, to an extent.� She stuttered so much that one can’t really understand what she was saying, but they told me that she�doesn’t know�what she’s saying, either.� I helped her wrap her baby up in the pillowcase.� When Sarah tried to help, she hit Sarah with her doll, and said, “No, Daddy!”� I did all I could to keep from pissing myself.
“I don’t wannna play no damn bingo!� Now get the hell out of here!”
-� Some mean fat lady, who isn’t even old.� She’s just in the Nursing Home because she’s too fat to live by herself.
I really like Franz Ferdinand : )
“You need to order me some more of that hemrroid medicine, you good lookin’ thang, you!”
-� Miss Dolly
Last night, Jade came over.� We went to eat Chinese, then we went to Blockbuster.� Justin, the guy from the documentary, isn’t half as cute as he used to be.� I don’t quite understand that.� Well we got 2 movies, which we have never heard of:� May and Madhouse.
Madhouse made me think… I bed the people in Sanitoriums get worse because they are in there… they’re expected to act crazy.� The nymphomaniac, Crystal… I’m sure before she was put in there, she didn’t masturbate in her doorway, full frontal like that.� She’s just doing it because she’s expected to, and she can.� I mean, if it was socially acceptible to drop your pants anywhere, wouldn’t you?
Then we watched May.� That was quite interesting.� A weird girl who nobody liked made her own friends.
“So many good parts, but no good wholes.”
Pete and Trixie are spooning each other at my feet.
At midnight, Alley Jo came over.� She overanalyzes everything.� Like I always told Coach Suiter, you can’t have the word “analyze” without the word “anal.”
Oh, and I like my car present, Mark : )
I’m going to hang out with Steve and Holly.
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