I had a dream the other night. Here is what ensued:
I was invited to some undisclosed honorary event of high magnitude. Everyone was there, even Jared the Subway guy. For some reason we all had to ride in one over sized charter bus to this event. While in line awaiting to board the bus, I got stuck behind Jared. I could see all of my blogging buddies way ahead of me already claiming seats on the bus. Stupid Jared. You didn’t shrink down to half your original size just to block me from all of the witty banter and F words unfolding on that bus.
I formulated a plan to catch up with my people. In a flash of genius, I decided to distract him by whispering, “I don’t have five bucks for your foot long, but give me six inches and we will call it even”. Surprisingly, this didn’t phase him. He just stared me down blankly like I was less desirable than a veggie sub. There was no other option, so in a final attempt to get around him, I ran to the back of the line and screamed, “Where did all this fried chicken come from?”.
After successfully making it onto the cozy bus, I was searching for a seat when I bumped into a man. Not just any man. The holy grail of men. Eric Bana. He turned, almost in slow motion, as the bus’s high-powered air conditioner blew his hair ever so perfectly across his forehead. “You have a lovely necklace there”. Apparently dream me was wearing pearls, which doesn’t make much sense, because I don’t do pearls. But hey, Eric Bana gets what Eric Bana wants. I’ll be happy to quit my day job and become a fucking oyster hunter if need be.
He then flashed a flawless smile as I replied, “Why, thank you”. It was so beautiful. It is the kind of conversation I have always dreamed of having with the sexiest man alive. Yeah, I did that on purpose. Read the rest of this entry