This is what happens to your mind on drugs
Ok, let me preface this by saying I REALLY DO NOT SMOKE CRACK. Because otherwise this entry is going to sound like it’s straight out of bizarro-world. But really, I don’t.
Last night I had a long, elaborate dream in which I went to the Esprit outlet store and was shopping and Cate Blanchett was my personal shopper (although she was employed by the store, but she was totally MINE). And she found me all of these bargains for things for like, $1. I ♥ you, Cate!
But Cate wouldn’t let me buy a sweater, and I was a little bitter for her enforcing her tastes on me. She would only let me have dresses and jackets. A bit format for my tastes, but still. CATE BLANCHETT.
After I left Esprit (in my dream), I went out to dinner and was sharing this story with a few people. A few people who just happened to be New Kids on the Block. And I was sitting next to Jordan (barf) and across from Jon, but I was focused on my dreamy Joe, wondering how I could have ever crushed so hard on him. And also? Jon was gay.
And you would think this crazy dream ends here? No, it kept going, and involved some kind of football celebration where someone in a black and gold number 54 jersey sprained his knee celebrating a big win. Which I thought was totally funny, because he didn’t get hurt in the game but he got trampled by the crowd celebrating.
Really? Not funny at all. In fact, frightening.
But this is how my mind works. I wonder what kind of awesomely frightening dreams I would have if I *did* do drugs.
