Dec 25, 2008 15:22
You know what I hate?
A benefactor, a patron of the arts, bestows upon me a check for $20,100. Then I tuck the check away for safekeeping, and, whilst I'm making out with Jaime Pressly, I wake up, and the first thing that comes to mind is, 'I'm glad I put that check somewhere safe before I realised it was a dream.'
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Sounds like a nightmare. my sympathies.
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The unconscious is a sketchy place.
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