A couple of things...

Realizations:

I am honestly too old to go out with people under 30. I am. I can't hang. And not because I feel the need to outdrink them. Because I feel the need to babysit them. I hate babysitting.

There is nothing like skimming through someone's blog and realizing that the entire post you are reading is about you. And then you sort of want to kill yourself.

I have a lot to say but am terrible at articulating things lately. And the people I need to be able to "articulate at" are either really impatient or entirely too patient.

I am about to eat an entire bag of Combos for lunch. What?

There are a handful of songs that, in the last few months, have become songs that I cannot listen to without sobbing hysterically. I am probably losing my mind.

Randoms:

I have been having dreams about hanging out with rappers. Last night I had a dream that Spliff and I had set up a campsite on someone's lawn and I had somehow gotten roped into babysitting Kanye West's 17 children.

I recently came across someone whose last name was Crapanzano. And when I started to describe it as being like saying, "I crapped my pants, in Italian", someone walked by and heard me and I believe that she thinks that this was the truth. I mean, I don't know how she factored in the "in Italian" part...but who knows.

Hannah does not like to be called a llama.

Spliff and I just planned an entire funeral, including procession and readings, for someone's favorite pen.

I have become addicted to on-line poker. Don't judge me.

That is all.

Frustration

I woke up this morning, still feeling irritated. I hate when I wake up irritated because it seems to set the tone for the whole day. Not cool. It didn't help that I had a dream that I was dating Jer again which is enough to irritate anyone. For some reason, he moved back in with me and so did his entire family. Even when I am sleeping, his parents bug me. I can't imagine what marrying into that would have done to me. Thank you, Cheesus for getting me out of there.

In the dream, we were fine and then all of a sudden he was accusing me of all sorts of ridiculous things and then he was screaming...and then we broke up. And it happened somewhat like the real breakup did. I was calm but kind of indifferent at first but then ended up so frustrated because of the yelling and anger that was coming off of him for no reason. So, I woke up flustered, irritated and a bit relieved.

In other news, I should be studying right now so that I don't completely fail my test in a few hours and so that I can finally be done with it but...I am the slacker of the universe and I am still drinking coffee and researching Universities (that I will never get into if I don't pass this effing class in the first place.) Wish me luck, internet...I am gonna need it.

A Window

When my grandmother died, I spent a lot of time depressed. I slept all the time, I never left the house, and I sort of...shut down. I had dreams about her almost every night back then. I would wake up in tears or in a state of panic.

I hadn't had a dream about her in about four years. At least, not one that I can remember. But I had one last night and woke up and immediately wrote it down. This one was a little different than the ones I remember having years ago. This time, it was like I was visiting her.

The dream started with some of the ladies that I used to work with. One of them planned an outing for us and we were all at a mall. Although, it was more like going to St. Augustine for the day or something. There were all kinds of shops and cafes but we were on a tight schedule. We were rushing to get back, possibly to work. Somehow, I got separated from the group and was at a place that could have been a hospital or a nursing home or something. There were women dressed in scrubs and I was in the cafeteria there. There was a girl I knew. She was like a combination of many people in my life. I recognized her features individually and I called her by her name...although, it was a name that I neither remember or recognize.

The girl was in scrubs and she had just finished her lunch, it seemed. She was leaving the cafeteria and stopped to talk to me. She was carrying a large can of pineapple juice and suddenly, the juice started pouring out of the bottom of the can. She didn't notice until I said something. It spilled onto my shoes and the floor was slippery as I tried to get her some napkins. I almost fell. I was helping her clean up the mess and I said to her, "I am your workforce guardian angel." She laughed like she knew exactly what I was talking about, like I commonly helped her out with things. She said, "not for long, today is my last day." And then she walked away.

I walked through the cafeteria to a place that was set up like a movie theater only all the seats faced a gigantic window. When you looked out, all you could see was sky. There were many people seated there, they were all old. They were silently staring out the window. One of them was my grandma. I sat down beside her and wrapped my arms around her. She smiled at me, but she didn't turn her body towards me, she sat still facing forward. I put my head on her shoulder the way that I had done as a little girl when I went to church with her. She finally looked at me and said, "Is this real?" I told her it was...although I am not sure now what she meant. I started to sob. Loudly. An orderly or nurse came up to me (evidently, I knew her too) and scolded me, telling me that I had to leave. I cried harder. She said, "Five more minutes."

At this point, my grandma started to talk to me. I don't remember all that she said except that she was telling me not to talk to her after she was gone. She was sort of warning me about it, telling me to let go. Then she said, and this is the ONE thing I remember her saying, "You can't keep talking to Harry Potter." (I have never even SEEN any Harry Potter movies or anything...and I don't TALK to him...) I kept crying but finally got up and slowly walked away.

I started to walk home and suddenly felt lost. The streets were familiar but they seemed backwards. I thought I must be going the wrong way. I turned around and started to run. Everything looked normal again, but I had started to panic. Then, a few blocks away, I see my sister. She is a child again and she is wearing an entirely purple outfit.

That's when I woke up.

Normally, when I dream about my grandma, the symbolism isn't quite so obvious...although, this dream was eerie and creepy...and dammit, it freaked me OUT!

Things of note...and ADD

Over the past two weeks, tons has happened. The problem is, every time I sit down to blog about it, a thousand other things run through my head. You know, I wonder if the mail is here yet and if my school books have arrived. I wonder if I have finished all of my homework or if I remembered to get everything I needed from the store. My ADD is in full-swing and I can barely complete a thought these days.

I haven’t been sleeping very well and am having weird dreams about gang fights and Vincent D’onofrio. (Which may well be a symptom of watching too much Law & Order, but you can’t stop me.) So, here are some of the things that I have neglected to tell you, internet.

Spliff fell down the stairs outside of our apartment, landing her unconscious at the bottom until Rad Neighbor found her and called 911. This meant a really long night in the Emergency Room for both of us and a whole lot of hysterics. She is okay, aside from a chipped tooth, a shiner, and a bunch of bruises. I hate the emergency room. It smells like pee.

Eppernepperhart came in to town for the 4^th of July, which was nice. I got to hang out with him more than I have in ages. We had a great time despite a little drama leaving me want to hit Magic Mike with my car. All is well now.

I started school again and am currently working on getting back into the swing of research papers and homework. It isn’t fun, but with any luck I will be out soon enough and I can finally start doing something that I like instead of working in hell.

I am slowly getting all of my music onto my iPod and realizing that 80gb is a whole lot of freaking space. I need more music. Damn.

Tonight, JM and I are going to see 311. I am only kind of excited about this because a) I have seen them before and b) I don’t really like them all that much anymore…but I am pretty stoked about going to a show. It has been a while.

So, that’s about it for now. I have to go and prepare to drink lots of overpriced beer with a whole lot of people who like 311.

Magic Mike and Mayonaise

I didn't sleep well last night. Even after three martinis and a huge cheeseburger, I couldn't do it.

I had two dreams that were particularly odd.

In the first one, I woke up and the clock said that it was 9:18 but it was dark outside, so I thought I had missed work. I got up and walked into the kitchen, talking to Spliff (of course it wasn't our kitchen, it was my grandparents' in Michigan) and I looked out the window and watched several tornadoes justfly right by the windows. It seemed that there was one out of every window in the house and they never hit anything (partially because there was absolutely nothing else on any side of the house) but just kind of…scared the bejesus out of me and then left. And then Magic Mike called. So I had to go to his house and he was drunk and I was still in pajamas. He was angry at his girlfriend (the one he was dating about 6 years ago who is still in love with him) for showing up naked at this place where he was working. (This doesn't seem like the kind of thing that MM would get mad about, but…who knows?) We were sitting on the floor in the living room and then he pulled out a pair of clippers and shaved his head…and then he went to the sink and poured some sort of bleach on it and then I did the same thing. My hair turned a weird shade of orange and MM kept telling me that we should make out (This was a little weird, because even though we have made out, we never TALK about making out…) and asking me why we never got dressed up and went out to dinner and stuff…it freaked me out. I woke up and was "Skerrd and confused…"

So, after 45 minutes of trying to silence Ernge, stop thinking about the job issue, and wondering why MM was such a weirdo in my dream, I fell back to sleep. This time, I was at Jer's wedding. Clearly, I was not invited to Jer's wedding and I seriously could not see myself attending anything of the sort but there I was…It was in a weird place. Almost like an auditorium where they would hold a university graduation or something. There was an olympic sized pool out right outside and people were running around in bathing suits and shorts and stuff. I was sitting upstairs on a couch in a weird little room that everyone had to go through to get to the restroom when this girl/guy (not sure, "he" had what looked like breasts but was very masculine and confusing) came in and took a knife and put mayonaise in my soda. I don't know why. I don't know where the mayo came from, I just know that I was pissed and said, "Why the hell did you put mayonaise in my soda?" and he/she laughed and went into the bathroom. So, I went to buy another drink, this time I got coffee and went back into the room. And another guy entered (this time it was for sure a dude) and put mayonaise in my coffee…So, I stood up, grabbed dude by the collar and demanded that he get me a new coffee. I yelled at him and said that this was the second drink ruined by mayo and I would "punch him in the nose" if he didn't march his happy ass downstairs and get me a new coffee. (I don't know if he did, but I was sitting in this room forever with two drinks full of mayonaise.) Jer's parents looked bizarre, almost like they had been transformed into beatnicks…Come to think of it, they sort of looked like John and Yoko. Only, Jer's dad kept calling his mom "Carrie" which is so NOT her name. Somehow, I ended up watching some weird video of the bride-to-be at her bachelorette party, which was like one of those videos from the Miss America Pageants where they are all in bikinis and are orange-tinted and look ridiculous with that much makeup on while playing slow-motion volleyball on a beach. You know…like that…Only, of course, JB's wife was there, and she is no Miss America (but she wears even more makeup). People around me were standing so close that it was like a concert and I was so confused when an older man came out from around a corner and told me that they wanted me to be an usher to which I responded, "It isn't bad enough that I have to BE here, but now you want me to USHER at my ex-boyfriend's WEDDING?" (Not that this hasn't happened to me before…Hello, gift table!) I agreed, reluctantly, but then some idiot spilled a vodka and cranberry down the back of my shirt (not that I was dressed appropriately anyway) and I had to tell Jer…I called him something very pet-namey and his wife told me that my hair color was fake…I didn't punch her. (I know…it is really weird.) After that, the only thing that I remember is that when the groomsmen were walking down the aisle, they had their faces on one of those huge screens that they use at massive concerts so the people in the back don't feel left out, but they couldn't get JB's name right.

No wonder I never sleep.

Sugar Plums and Joaquin Phoenix

I am not a fan of Joaquin Pheonix. I’m just not. I don’t like him at all. I know that he is a good actor but, much like Leonardo DiCaprio, he just drives me nuts. That’s why my dream last night was a little odd. Well…it was odd anyway…but…he added to the oddness.

For some reason, Fish Head and I were going with an older couple (the woman looked a lot like KB’s mom) to visit the house of a serial killer who was missing or in jail or supposedly dead or something…turns out, the people that we went with were serial killers themselves and when we got there, the guy (who was missing, dead, in jail) who owned the house was there. He thought we were going to be his next victims…but he was sitting in a chair and the woman we were with shot him in the head, he grabbed my sister and was shaking her violently, and then he collapsed on the couch that I was sitting on and across my legs, I slithered out from under him and behind the couch, and I could feel his blood dripping onto my back. Fish Head and I finally got out somehow and for some reason, and the guy's really scary son was chasing us (all 4 of us) with a knife, so we got in the SUV and sped away. We stopped at another house and the couple got out and left the keys in the car, so we climbed up front and I drove away, down a dirt road because I was sure that the couple was going to try to kill me and FH next. We drove away and I got lost because it was getting dark. I drove forever and kept hitting dead ends and we finally ended up back at the first house…where the SUV died…so I got out and had to go back inside and try to find the keys to another truck (there were like five trucks scattered all over the yard)…I found them, ran outside and screamed for FH to get in. There was another truck coming up and a man was driving and he was speeding towards me with his lights on bright, he wasn’t slowing…I couldn't get the door closed or the keys to fit in the ignition and the guy had finally stopped, just before hitting us and had gotten out of the truck and was coming towards me. I was screaming and crying and he came around right as I slammed the door…but it didn't close all the way and he opened it. I looked at him and he was the scary son of the guy that the people killed. But he was also Joaquin Pheonix. And he looked at me and he said, "They killed my dad." and I just stared at him. I felt overwhelmed by him. I felt sad for him and safe because of him and I couldn’t look away. And then I woke up.

Will someone please explain to me why I was so strangely drawn to Joaquin? And why I am constantly dreaming about killers and being chased? (And the other day, fighting with Spliff over what kind of pizza to get?)

Dreams and "The Mood" (continued...)

This morning, after my 7am meeting where my supervisor tried to bribe us with breakfast pizza, coffee and fruit, I thought I would try to kill “The Mood” with some ever-so-cheerful Christmas music. So, instead of pushing the “My Station” button on the Launch toolbar, I hit “Pop Christmas”. Before the music even started to play, I had read the words, “Hilary Duff” and skipped the song. Then? Then it was some stupid version of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”. That’s when I decided that maybe I like “The Mood” more than I like Christmas music and hit “My Station” where there is no threat of Hilary Duff or Santa. Go figure. I’m Scrooge.

“The Mood” prevails.

In other news, I had a bunch of weird dreams last night. One involved a very angry leper. I wish I could remember the entire thing. But all I really remember is that a) someone’s big toe fell off and I actually pointed it out to them. Like this: Pointing. “Ummm…Your toe”. B) There was a really disgusting part where the leper (who was evidently someone I know but I can’t remember who) was very angry at me for not wanting to touch him. And he got up, came into my room, yelled at me and spattered blood all over everything I owned and then I had to do laundry. It was the scariest/messiest dream that I have had in a long time. (Aside from the whole, chunks of my scalp kept falling off one…What the hell is up with my dreams? People losing chunks of flesh?!)

There were other dreams too. Involving lots of old friends, some exes, and some current friends. All of whom, were super pissed at me for a variety of reasons. Reasons I didn’t understand. And no matter what I did, it was like I was invisible. No one would listen to me. Nothing I did was good enough. I was completely alone. And I had wronged the entire planet.

Needless to say, I woke up feeling like a complete shithead. Which is fun. Especially when you have to be to work at 7am and sit through one of the lovely meetings where everyone is two faced and generally bitchy anyway. Throw in “The Mood” and you’ve got one cranky little Criz.

When will it all END?!

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "Bullet with Butterfly Wings" - Smashing Pumpkins

The Moon and Life-Suckage

I’m having an excruciating time lately trying to fill up this blog. Normally, after a three day weekend I have a lot to say. A lot of drinks have been had, a lot of debauchery has ensued. But not really this time. It was a nice, peaceful, quiet weekend. (Involving mimosas and some “Sex and the City”.)

I did, however, take a walk down memory lane and stumble upon the reason for my obsession with the song, “The Best that You Can Do”. I’ve never been caught between a rock and New York City, and no, I didn’t GO to New York City (ever, for that matter…not that I wouldn’t like to…) but…I went to the Museum of Science and History with JGJ. And…that’s kind of the same thing. Okay…it’s not at all the same thing. But I don’t really have a good story to explain why it’s important.

Anyway…I managed to dream about three (count ‘em, THREE) exes in one weekend and was left a little…flabbergasted (read: annoyed) about it. I couldn’t even tell you about any of the dreams. Only that one involved J in a classroom, one involved Jer in a BATHroom, and one had something to do with a roadtrip. (No, they weren’t dreams of the dirty variety, calm yourselves. I don’t want to ever have THOSE about THEM.) They were strange. And strangely calming (read: annoying). But since I feel that I could fall back into friendship with any of them (you know, that is, if any of them ummm…didn’t think I was the anti-christ), it wasn’t ALL bad.

I know one thing. Starting tomorrow, I am no longer anti-social (I say this, but you might want to ask me again when I leave work, because after the LIFE SUCKING that is my JOB, I may have changed my mind.) So…wish me luck, internet, wish me luck.

You know you're a spaz when...

Sometimes I overthink. Okay. I overthink all the time (but I am not as bad as SOME people…and you know who you are, Eppernepperhart.) And sometimes I see signs where they may or may not be. It’s just how I roll. I overthink and then I spaz.

So, in the midst of all the ridiculousness that is my life, I have seen signs. And I am sure, more than anything, I have been seeking them out and making them into my own little clues. Because honestly, I don’t stress myself out enough already. (Cough, cough.)

The dreams. Holy crap, the dreams are ridiculous. The other night I actually dreamed that I was dating Dane Cook (Dane, if you are reading this, I totally will date you. Holla.) and then, like, mid-date, one of my molars fell out. Yep. Buh-bye, molar. Also, being mortified, I had to bid farewell to Dane too. (Curses on you, subconscious!) Needless to say, I never got to see how he proposed, or the wedding, or the…nevermind…I digress. The sign. Yeah. Anyway, so evidently, dreaming that a tooth falls out means that you have a secret. Or that you are going to hear “disagreeable news”. Either way, that sucks and I demand a recount.

Then there is doubt. I realize that I am doing this one to myself and that I can’t really blame it on the universe (you know, like I do everything else) but, I think it could be a sign. I have been questioning myself a lot. I hate it when I start doing that. It tugs at me and tugs at me until I feel like I am being ripped apart. I think that constantly having the urge to yank out all of my hair could be considered a sign…or a symptom of insanity. Whatever.

Also, and I don’t know what the hell this would mean if it were a sign, but on average, for the past few days, I have been hearing “The Promise” by When in Rome at least three times daily. I don’t know what that’s about. I think it may be the universe trying to tell me something. Like…I should start a really bad band, explode onto the music scene, have a great hit, and then vanish into obscurity.

Anyway…yeah…I overthink stuff.

A good night and a bad dream

I had dinner and drinks with a new friend last night. Usually, when I hang out with someone for the first time (granted, this wasn’t the first time, but it was the first time without other company) I usually am sort of quiet until I feel the person out (I said OUT, not UP) but she is a talkative one and I was relieved as hell. But she showed me a new hole-in-the-wall bar near where I live that had ONE DOLLAR BOTTLES OF YEUNGLING. Why did I not know about this before? My cheap beer radar must be on the fritz again. Damn thing.

We got invited to a party by a very strange older guy named Dennis who made us play some sort of word association game so that he could remember our names and he actually called himself Dennis the Menace…He was impressed with my ability to come up with “Crystal Blue Persuasion” on the spot. Considering that my name hasn’t changed…you know…ever…and I tend to come in contact with a lot of old men who like to sing that song, it really is the first thing that pops into my head. (I know, how sad.)

Anyway, it was a good night. Cheap beer. Good company. Skid Row on the jukebox. What more does a girl need?

The weird dreams are continuing. Each one, more disturbing than the last. Each one, leaving me with an unshakable feeling of dread. I don’t usually remember my dreams quite as vividly as I have been lately either which leads me to believe that something is terribly wrong. I may sound a little paranoid here, but if there is one thing I have learned, it is to trust my gut. No need for you to worry though, I haven’t completely spazzed yet. I won’t start the daily phone calls just checking to see if you are all alive. But if these dreams continue, the phone checks might start sooner than later.

So I woke up this morning with a haunting image in my head and a message from Pepe LePew on my voicemail (will someone please explain to me why he has stopped dropping by unannounced but has started calling at 7am? Any takers? No?). Great way to start a Friday. But I know one thing, it may have started out crappy, but at least I will end it right. Beer in hand, smiling, and surrounded by friends. And if I have to stay up for the rest of my life to avoid the terror of my subconscious, I fucking will.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "Proofs" - Mates of State

Shoes...

For the past few days, I have been having very short, very strange dreams. Like commercial break dreams. And oddly, even though I know that they are coming in when the major dream pauses, when I wake up, I can only remember the commercials.

I spent most of Saturday hung over and having cracked out conversations with people about creating new holidays and dressing up like thumbs and taking surveys. But somewhere between all of that, I slept my face off. When I woke up from my five hour power nap, I remembered the commercial break.

I was getting dressed for something. Wearing a wine colored dress (one that I actually wore to JB’s wedding a few years back) and I couldn’t decide which shoes to wear. The thing is, I was sitting on the floor amidst about 675 pairs of black shoes but none of them were the “right” shoes. It was very stressful. Very stressful indeed.

The next dream took place at a school. Not my school. Just someone’s school. And I was in charge of showing someone around. So naturally, at lunchtime, I led her to the courtyard. Which wasn’t so much a courtyard as it was a huge field with concession stands next to a football field. Maybe there was a pep rally going on. The Molester was working in one of the stands alongside of the field where we decided to sit. I bought drinks from him and then realized that I wasn’t wearing any shoes. TM gave me his bright, Astroturf colored (“crystal green”) shoes to wear and I ended up walking away with them. It was a fairly pointless dream, but again, involved shoes (or a lack thereof).

The last one that I remember didn’t involve shoes but a friend of mine who has been paralyzed from the waist down since we were sixteen. We were at a party, sitting at a table where I wouldn’t have been able to see her wheelchair, and she miraculously stood up and walked to the door. Like nothing was different. I called her on it, and she said, “Where have you been? I have been walking for three weeks!”

I realize that this last one has nothing to do with shoes. But it seemed to me that there was a connection between walking and the shoes themselves. What is going on in my brain?!

Anyway, I looked up shoes in a dream dictionary this morning…you know…when I got to work and probably should have been…you know…working. And here’s the verdict. Strange, eh?

Even in dreams...

I had another dream about J last night.

It doesn’t happen often, but when it does it makes me miss him with an intensity that I can’t put into words. I wish so many things had been different then. Not because I want him back, but because I would feel better about the whole thing if I had any way to justify my treatment of the situation. Or, more specifically, my treatment of him.

When I dream of him, we talk about things but we leave out details. He tells me how things are with K. But he never says anything specific. Sometimes we are in places I don’t recognize. Sometimes we are in the familiar ones that we frequented. And no matter what is said, I wake up feeling haunted and sad. And I just want to tell him how sorry I am. Because I can never really get around to that. Even in dreams.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: "50 Ways to Leave your Lover" - Paul Simon

He's Got the Look

I had a dream about J last night. I don’t remember much of the details except a comment he made about it being too hard to hang out with me, and the look on his face when he said it. We weren’t alone, but with that comment, he and his look slid out of my apartment without a glance back in my direction. And I felt it. The pang of guilt and sadness and regret. Just like I had felt the day that I saw him on the road. Just like I had felt when it all ended. And I thought of the perfect description within the dream of this feeling, said aloud, “I have to blog this”, and then woke up.

When I dream about J, I always wake up feeling sad. And regretful. And guilty. It is the same thing every time. Different scene. Same emotional tug of war.

Sometimes I wish, even if just within a dream, he would just scream at me. Just tell me how badly I caused him to feel. How horrible I was. Just so that I can have some peace of mind. I want to discard the pleasantries that we always share when faced with an awkward encounter. Maybe if he could just let me have it one good time, it would resolve all of this extra stuff that weighs me down. But then, I might not deserve that either. I am probably being punished with it. Remnants of yet another thing that I screwed up because I was not only selfish, but scared.

He’ll never give me the satisfaction of a good fight. He never would. And he may have forgotten all about us. But I know, judging from the last awkward encounter, that he hasn’t let it all go just yet. Maybe it isn’t even about him. Maybe it is about my need to explain.

Either way, I guess I shouldn’t hold my breath. It would be nice though, if he would stop polluting my dreams with that look.

A beautiful disaster...

It's funny how sometimes you don't think about your past at all and then something triggers all this weird "what if" shit in your head. I had a dream about an ex last night. And it wasn't bad...or good...it just...was. It is weird to think how much has changed for both of us since we broke up. More so for him. But I started to miss his friendship today. I go without thinking about him for months at a time...and then maybe, once a year...something happens and I miss his face.

Don't get me wrong, we were completely and totally wrong for each other, but he was a good friend to me. He was comfortable in a way that I don't think I can say that anyone else has been in my life. I hate that things have to deteriorate so rapidly when you "break up". Why does a break up have to be the end of everything else? Why can't you just hang on to the thing that you had before the relationship? Is it because too much has happened? I don't see it that way. I think that once you have been through a relationship with someone, realized it wasn't what you wanted, broken up on good terms, and moved on, you should be able to have a conversation from time to time. I don't want to see him every day. Not even every week, I would just like to know that I am not his absolute least favorite person in the world. ( I know that I am not, however, I have a sneaking suspicion, his wife does not share that sentiment...wives are weird about ex-girlfriends, I've learned...)

The fact is, life is too short to waste...I don't want to be one of those people who holds on to the past so much that they can't enjoy now. I just wish that things could be tweaked a bit so that they could be just a little less complicated.

Stuck-in-my-head Song of the Day: Untouchable Face- Ani Difranco

Donnie? Is that you?

I totally forgot too...I had this dream about a week ago that I was hanging out with Marky Mark...and we were sitting on a picnic table with a bunch of "our" friends (because apparently Marky Mark and I go way back) and we were talking...Anyway, he was being really quiet and I kept trying to get him involved in the conversation...so I would say, "Donnie!" and hit him on the arm...
I swear I was in this dream forever...and I couldn't figure out why "Donnie" wouldn't talk to me...well, it turns out, kids, that Marky Mark takes offense to being called by his brother's name. Keep that in mind...because now, because of THIS instance, I have lost Marky Mark forever...
He ended up telling me that he never wanted to speak to me again. Woe is me.