Okay, I really didn't post it twice, that was a blogger thingie. I can't quite figure out how I didn't catch the "dreaming a book" bit. 'Cause...uh, 'reading' and 'dreaming,' really not terribly similar. Also, in the pool today Irony and I made up the best story ever. It had everything from abstract art to a rotting, magical ham. And also, jail. But not one of those cool lesbian ones.
The other night I had a dream where I couldn't find my locker or remember the combination. It was worse than that dream where there were thirteen of us and some guy that looked like Marilyn Manson as Willy Wonka was killing us off one by one and we were stuck in this aquamarine hotel room.
And Jesus Christ, Count of Monte Cristo is the worst movie ever. I mean, Jesus Christ. They don't even AGE after 16 years; they just have beards. What the hell is that shit?