Other people's dreams are stupid and pointless. As the great Dennis Reynolds once said, "It's like photographs, if I'm not in them and nobody's having sex, I really don't care." I agree with this 100%. Luckily, other people's dreams are not my dreams. My dreams are important and interesting. Here is a deep analysis of a dream I had two nights ago.
It all started when a group of us was going through a Mosque. My buddy Derb went to the bathroom there, and I saw some shady guys in turbans near the bathroom. I kept an eye out to make sure he didn’t get attacked.
I'll admit that at first glance, this makes me look like a racial profiler who is at least slightly racist. Although I may be racist against white people, I at least have an explanation for this behavior. I had just got done watching the movie Religulous before bed, so it had me thinking that any religious person was set on kill mode. I was just proud of myself for not running away like a scared little bitch.
Then I see my brother's dog, Ollie, start running away. Derb and I chase after him. We go down a hallway, run down flights of stairs, out through a door into a giant square where I see a guy I used to work with, Shane, juggling bowling pins. He was terrible. Like his best attempt at juggling was when he managed to throw all three in the air, but they all landed nowhere near him. It was brutal.
I think I may feel worst about this part. I was happy that I chased Ollie, but I completely forgot about the dog when I saw someone juggling. This either means I have ADD, I'm selfish, or I really love juggling. I'm guessing number two, but really, Ollie should have been on a leash either way.
With the juggling, my first thought was that this represents my own inability to juggle women. But I know that's not the case, because LL Hott J, Ladies Love Hott Joe. It probably just means that I can't juggle.
I am startled from behind when I hear the voice of a broad who would like to be referred to as Carla (River Bandits Scooch) when she tells me that she thinks her skin problem is spreading. I turned around to discover that she had streaks of rashes stretching from her forehead down to the bottom of her neck. Then the next few girls I saw all had different facial skin conditions. It was disgusting.
Um...hum...yeah, I have no clue what the hell this means. Is this a sign of my fear of commitment? I doubt it (but probably). Is this because I had ringworm recently? That's dumber than option one. Or was this just a catalyst to launch what could become a promising rap career? Ding ding ding, we have a winner.
Then some random guy and me start running/skipping down the street rapping a song called Skin Herpes. We were headed to a party, but we were the party as our music was off the chain.We had awesome background music, and our lyrics were really fucking good. We freestyled everything and our rhymes were tight. I killed it in the first verse, but overall, I have to give him props because his lyrics were slightly better than mine. We actually ran past the band that was supplying our backup music while running on the street. Then we finally made it to the party, which was good, because my lyrics were running a little dry.
Obviously the first question is what were some of the lyrics that we came up with for our song Skin Herpes. The only thing that is really clear is that during our hook, we yelled Skin Herpes really loud before using like a five word description of why they suck. Also, our background music was pretty metal. Just trust me when I say that everything about it was sweet. An amazing thing about this is that despite us running/skipping (and I'd be lying if I didn't say I distinctly remember a lot of skipping) down the street, the music never got louder or softer despite the band being in a stationary position.
The thing that really irritated me was the other guy's lyrics were better than mine after the first verse, but clearly, all of the lyrics came from my own head. Then I got to thinking, what if they didn't come from my head? What if our dreams had a mind-meld (totally straight), and he actually remembers the lyrics? So, mind-melding buddy (remember, nothing gay), if you're out there, I'm ready to go platinum.
P.S. North Texas may not have a good football program, but they will play their best game of the year against their rival every God-damned year.
P.P.S. In "Our Society Depresses Me" news, GQ had their Men of the Year issue and have a ridiculously long article on The Situation. In "My Life Is Depressing" news, I read it. Also, here a video on Safe Sex from The Situation and B.Palin (who is a total grenade) where he beats his nickname to death.