Boring dreams!

I had a dream a few nights ago in which I jumped a queue for something, and resultantly got into an argument with the morbidly obese black lady at the front. I remember spending a very long time denying that I had taken her spot in the line despite having moved ahead of her with no subtlety whatsoever.

I don't think the confrontation reached a close before I woke up.

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Last night I dreamt that I'd thrown away some beef my brother wanted to cook. Being the sly bastard I am, I ran to the supermarket to search for some replacement beef. I then spent the rest of the dream standing in front of the beef section in the aisle, trying to decide what kind of beef to buy.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

A few days ago, I finally got around to buying a new razor to replace the one I lost back in January. That night, I dreamt about shaving, and how much fun it would be with my new sixteen-blade man mower. I remember delicately trimming at a spot on my chin that I couldn't quite do properly for what seemed like an hour, and then feeling amazingly let-down as soon upon finishing the dream-shave.

What the hell. It's like one of those dreams you'd have at the age of six in the run-up to christmas. Being subconsciously excited about shaving is about as CRAZY and WILD as my aspirations get these days.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.