Welcome to insomniac theater!
I don’t know if it’s the fact that I took a four hour nap yesterday, or the events of yesterday, or the seventeen pound Gyros i ate for dinner, or the cat singing the Night Song (MrrrOOOOOW. MrrrOOOOOW. MrrrOOOOOW.MrrrOOOOOW MrrrOOOOOW.MrrrOOOOOW in the middle of the damned night)but I can’t sleep worth a crap. I managed to nap a bit between one and two, to be annoyed by a wierd ass dream.
I’m Carrie Anne Moss in the dream, and it’s amazing I manage anything between touching myself and staring at myself in a mirror. I’m on a spaceship somewhere with Demi Moore, who I keep calling a stupid skank, and whose brain-dead boyfriend keeps showing up on the ship as a hologram projected by a three foot tall phallic automaton. He never has anything like advice, he just jumps in to say “I get to fuck Demi Moore tonight” and she smiles and I think to myself how pathetic she is. Anyway, we are being held hostage by a big haired android who looks just like Cher only with fewer plastic surgery scars, and we don’t know her intentions but suspect them to be distasteful. So Demi uses a pair of 70’s platform heels to knock the valve off a propane tank and we set Cher’s hair on fire and get her to go find out what is going on. The ensuing explosion sucks the oxygen from the ship and Demi and I suck air from old packing crates until the ships systems renews the oxygen. We walk through the wreckage and nothing is left of Cher but piles and piles of smoking silicone implants and Merlin game parts. I tell Demi she’s gonna end up like that someday and she kicks me with a full roundhouse that catches me in the stomach and knocks the air out of my lungs, but as I go down I nail her other foot to the floor with a big dive knife. I catch my breath as she howls in pain, and we wind up wrestling on the floor until we’re sweaty and naked and covered in the blood from her foot and pieces of Cher’s imitation anatomy. We stop as we hear the applause of hundreds of thousands of barely postpubescent boys and realize we’re being filmed. I wake up in a cold sweat, still feeling myself, and think, my tits are bigger than hers.

Ow my ribs. That is the most FUCKED UP DREAM ever. Geez.
17lb gyros? Good Lordy. I don’t think I eat 17 lbs of food in a week let alone ONE meal.
I didn’t need to hear that part about the tits.
More nuanced, that would be the point. I didn’t either.
Alli, this is neanderpundit. Not the drudge report. Sometimes the facts are exaggerated.
The gyros was probably only about three pounds.
Mmmmmmmm … gyros … (drools)
Where do y’all get yours?
cross the street, the little place in schererville next to the Mobil station
I am truly amazed at how Demi has gotten hotter in her 40s. Has she like gotten millions of dollars worth of plastic surgery to keep her young, or is she a freak of nature? Or maybe she made a deal with the devil?