I had a dream I met a red sox player who I think might have been Crawford in a Target while shopping last night. I knew who he was in my dream, and he was a relatively recent acquisition I remember not being that jazzed to see, and thinking he was really slumming in his appearances. He also had terrible popcorn breath. Anyway, that was my dream.
Oh, that was bad sentence construction, wasn't it? My apologies.
In my dream, I was in a Target. Also there was a Red Sox player with bad popcorn breath.
It was odd.
I think honestly I had the dream because of these two factors.
I was flipping through the channels, and I saw an "Antiques Roadshow" where they had signed baseballs. On one you could see "Stan Musial" as clear as day. Which got me thinking about how many baseball player's signatures - and famous people in general really - how their signatures are totally illegible. So I was thinking how I am in Stan's camp. If I were famous, I'd want someone 40 years later to be able to read my signature easily and know it was me. I just don't get how it's cool to be illegible.
I worked with a girl who thought I would like her racist jokes, and she said that when she was in NYC, her and her friends would call black people "Canadians" to mask their racism. whatever...
But that was the same girl who worked at the same modeling agency as Whitney Houston, and once while Whitney was getting on (with some friends) and this girl was getting off, Whitney apparently gave her the up-and-down and said, "that white bread bitch" as the doors were closing. heh. There was a Whitney gif on here the other day that I imagine was the exact expression.
I was hanging out at my friend's bar, and he had to go get something, so he asked me to come behind and tend a little bit. Patrons kept asking me to make drinks that I didn't know, so my friend kept not being able to leave because he had to tell me how to make them. I remember there was one drink that was called something like a "Melonody" or whatever - a twist on 'melon' that had butloads of Midouri, vodka and brandy in it. Blended with ice. My friend looked at me like I was an idiot for not knowing how to make it. I remember he had this incredibly complicated machine for blending drinks. It looked like part blender part flux capacitor.
All this time there were these two really large guys that kept coming behind the bar - customers I thought - and I had to say, "Guys, get out from behind the bar and go sit down." So then my friend finally goes, and I've got a lull so I sit down back there and kinda fall asleep. When I open my eyes, there are now FOUR guys behind the bar and they're about to rob me. I stand up to try to do something, and one of them hits me with a pool cue, and I wake up.
Does anybody care? You could say, hey, come look at me talking to myself on the main comment page about something somebody posted here 2 days ago. Were you hoping to spark a discussion on racism? Please, for the love of all that is holy, take your baiting and stick it where the sun does not shine. Thank you.
LOL @ Squid and the pool cue.
When I bartended someone once asked me for a Red Death. I didn't know how to make that drink so I winged it and threw everything together that was red. The patron was not amused.