bad enough that I was cropdusting all day, the gyros (or the mushrooms, I dont know which) caused me to have some wild ass dreams.

The dream centered around the weekend’s blogmeet; the waiter with the multiple face piercings and odd aroma came in screaming about “The incessant order changes” and shooting away; I collected some birdshot but Tam took a good center mass hit before Joanna pulled a Mossberg 500 with a black pistol grip and pistol grip forend out of her purse and took the guy out pretty decisively. (What, she said, it’s a tardis purse) Anyway the paramedics were working furiously at Tam, and she looked to be slipping away, just as a cop picked up the shooters weapon, and Tam caught a glimpse.

‘WHAT!!!!!” she sat bolt upright, throwing the paramedics aside “A FUCKING JUDGE? I AM NOT GOING TO FALL VICTIM TO A TAURUS JUDGE!!!”

Rage alone got her to the hospital where they were able to patch her up nicely. For some reason I rode in the passenger seat of the ambulance, using a nail file to pick birdshot out of my scalp. After dealing with Tam, the ER doc looked at my head, poured some cheap vodka on my little pinpricks, and told me not to get a haircut for a while until they all healed.

Busy as a three peckered goat at the moment, so I couldn’t make it to the blogmeet in any event. And I regularly dream about winning the lottery so you are all safe.  Still. I’m gonna try eating the gyros by themselves and the mushrooms by themselves and see which one causes the dreams. I bet it’s the mushrooms, now I think about it.