Lohan Getting Out Of Hand
OK, I think my infatuation with the Lohan has given me permanent brain damage, but not in a bad way. Normally I don’t remember my dreams tat all, but last night’s was a keeper. Somehow I was able to meet the Lohan and we discussed dating. She laid out some ground rules, most I can’t recall, but one was that I refrain from saying, “and like you know” at the end of all my sentences. Regardless, if she told me I had to shave my eyebrows and drink tuna juice all day, I was going to abide like the Dude. I mean, c’mon, it’s the f-in Lohan. We discussesesed numerous things, like me living in the UK for five months and how much she rocked, and we both smiled a lot at each other. However, during our lil intimate chat two things were running thru my mind (in both my dream’s mind and my real life mind): the fact that she’s 18 and I’m twentysomething AND the fear that she would discover all the lusty postings I wrote in her honor on TWS.org. We parted ways for a few hours and I went to where I actually work. Later on, she came by my work and sat-in on a meeting. When my boss came in, she asked me why my “girlfriend” was in the room. I was kinda mumbling, cause she wasn’t eggzactly my girlfriend yet and I couldn’t explain why she was there either. Anywho, I don’t remember much more and I woke up with the flag at the top of the pole. This is one of those very times where Billy Ocean’s wisdom really shines thru: “Get out of my dreams. Get into my car.“