Wow, I�m actually up in time for my morning class�.call CNN. It�s not due to my loyalty to the class, it�s more or less because Bandit was being really annoying all night and my weird ass dream. I had a dream about aliens attacking the earth. Also involved was this younger version of this guy that I was once seeing. He actually looked better younger�
Anyway, the aliens were blind, I think because they had some kind of rolling machine that was chasing a bunch of people away from the city, but the machine could be stopped by pushing it down into the soft ground. Actually, I don�t think it was a machine�I think it was one of their alien organisms.
Moving on, somehow, the fight moved to a Sam�s Club and there was a huge radio tower in the middle of it. You could apparently blow up the aliens, who now looked like humans, with a simple laser pointer. The plan was that someone, I don�t know who or how, would identify them by putting signs on their backs and I would stand on the top of the radio tower and shoot them with my laser pointer.
Yeah, this is a brilliant plan huh?
Well, anyway, I was blowing up aliens when this woman from the FCC climbed my tower to get at me or something. I don�t know what I was doing wrong, unless she was an alien.
You know, come to think of it, since the details are fuzzy, I think this whole alien thing had something to do with the gay and lesbian population�..I don�t know why either.
Once I was down from the tower, I was some kind of wanted criminal. I think we were in Target this time�.well, I �confessed� or whatever to one of my store friends, Maria.
I don�t know any Maria�s in real life.
She, I knew, was a lesbian. I told her that I was sorry for being so close-minded and she said that everyone would forgive me in time.
I woke up to Bandit biting my toes.
Now, I don�t get something�I swear that I was blowing up aliens with laser pointers, what did I do that involved the gay and lesbian population?
Obviously, you don�t know the answer to this question, but man are my dreams strange lately�.
