Last night I had a dream I was driving behind the slowest person in all of humanity. I rode this car’s tail and was becoming all hulkish and crazy-anxious to get to my shopping destination.
All of a sudden, the car stopped and a man stepped out. With both hands in his pockets, he casually strolled back toward my car and stood right at my window. Cocky jerk. I couldn’t see his face, but as I rolled down the window I was fully prepared to rip him a new one. Road rage, much?
The mystery driver bent down, looked through the window and stared straight into my eyes…
Andy Samberg??? Oh. Umm… Okay?
Andy smiled and I immediately melted like butter (???). He politely asked if I’d like to go get a slice of pizza with him (???). Just as I was about to say the words, “Yes! Take me to pizza and then let’s ride on a white horse off into the sunset together”, I woke up.
I seriously don’t know what the deal is with my crazy pregnant dreams. They almost always star a somewhat strange and quirky actor, none of which I find attractive or sexy in any way. I have no clue why they keep popping into my dreams like this. And a slice of pizza? Is THAT the true way to my heart?
Skeet Ulrich… Andy Samberg… Where is Jason Statham when I need him?
(If you see Jason, tell him he’s welcome to pop into my dreams any night he wants. And that I prefer Chinese takeout over pizza.)