These dreams

So now that I've lured you in with a Heart song, I'll proceed to bore you with the weird dreams I had last night that are quickly fading away.

In one dream, I was arguing with some bitch from work. Which, well, isn't that far off from the truth, because I hate her and we argue over corrections sometimes. I could go off on a rant of how much I don't like this person (because she never fights the client for any changes I want, but goes all out so the poor designers don't have to search for more photos. Waaah. Fuck them.), but I'll save that for later. (And that's what short, bitter, and angry parenthetical statements are for, natch.)

In another dream, I kept running into Dar everywhere. And I mean everywhere. Well, maybe not everywhere; I never ran into him in my own bathroom. And it wasn't anywhere near David Lynchian. I just kept running into him at H-E-B, Target, thrift stores, the Omelettry, several convenience stores, CVS, etc. It was really a boring dream and I guess a subconscious way of telling me that I won't be running into him at any of our old haunts. Especially since his car doesn't work. Heh.

In another dream, I was making breakfast. I had already made and ate some scrambled eggs, but I wanted more. So I tried making more scrambled eggs, but they wouldn't cook. And I kept on splashing the eggs out of the pan. It was a mess. And probably symbolic, or some shit like that.

And in non-dream news, I was just watching the Fit For Friday segment on News 8 Austin, and this week—it's dancing with your dog! Why hasn't David Lynch made a movie out of this yet? He could call it The Dog's Tuxedo. OK, time for more coffee ...