obliviously obvious

so i dreamt about johnny depp again. at least this time he was human and shirtless. i don’t know what the deal is with these dreams. very, very odd. hahaha we went to france and the chick we were with didn’t want the paparazzi to follow us so she said to just speak in fluent french. johnny depp can speak french, but he was a big jerk in my dream and pretended to not know it. he started speaking in broken french and english. it was funny because he was such an ass. oh yeah! i almost forgot the other part of my dream with jessica, boarders, weed, skiing/snowboarding, garage bands and central parkway mall. i won’t go into detail because some stuff happened that i don’t like. wow, my subconscious is fucked up. i can see where it came from though. this dream i can, but not the johnny depp ones. i’m surprised i’m not having more video game based dreams. i’ll give myself a couple more days before they start.

i was going to write about something else, but i forgot what it was a long time ago. i guess that’s it for now.

11:30 pm – i could really go for mini-pizzas right now.

1:16 am – slicing up enemies is very therapeutic. although it’s quite frustrating when a combo is runied by a miss. on another note: yay! my tal is coming back for the weekend. thank someone. i just wish i had money to actually buy things when we go shopping. oh well, downtown is downtown and it will be hella fun (oh cartman . . .).

2:28 am – i am sad. i don’t know what’s going on. i’m worried.

6:25 am – yes, yes i should be sleeping but i’m not. it’s one of those times when i know i won’t be able to sleep/i’m forcing myself to stay awake because laying in the dark with nothingness is too painful. however, i did find this funny tidbit. it comes from paul katcher’s 20 things every assclown must do before he dies: 6. Crank your SUV’s souped-up stereo with the windows open. You think these guys pump the bass like that on the highway? Of course not. It’s for attention, not for function. So I say, give ‘em attention. Next time you’re crossing the street in front of said assclown, stop and dance a jig for as long as the stoplight will allow. Then point and laugh … a lot.
i can truthfully say that this made me hurt from laughing. however, it would be dishonest of me to lead you to believe that the pain was directly from the laughter. it was more of a random muscle thing than hysterical laughter.