Monday, April 24, 2006

At least there were no woodsmen, or an heiress-turned-maid

It's bad enough to have a dream in which one is helping Veronica Mars move a futon mattress through a park.

It's worse when she guesses your age and is off by three years in the upper direction.

It's worse than THAT when you lie about your age in response.

Imagine if I'd eaten Chinese food that night...

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