Because now that it’s officially Saturday, last night is actually Friday night, and I really mean Thursday night.
Anyway, you know how I have really vivid dreams? And you know how I often remember my dreams? And you know how sometimes when I tell you about my dreams, you don’t know if they’re real stories or not?
Last night (and remember, I mean THURSDAY night) I dreamt, in vivid detail, about…okay, wait. I don’t want to rush into this. You might not be ready for this. It’s not about the way I feel about you; it’s about commitment. If we rush it, we might wreck a good thing. And that’s what we have now; a good thing.
Have I told you about The Sandwich yet? I haven’t? Well, this is a good time to talk about The Sandwich. I, um, invented The Sandwich. It is the best Sandwich ever invented since the beginning of man. For all you evolutionists out there, that can be translated as: it is the best Sandwich ever invented since the beginning of mammals. This is how it happened (and i’m pretty sure this story itself will somehow be enshrined on a brass plaque above a holographic image of The Sandwich. You wouldn’t want The Sandwich sitting on a plinth for decades on end, because it might get a little manky.
Anyhow, enough about manky plinths.
The Sandwich is made thus:
Yoghurt or Sour Cream + a smidge of Mayonnaise
Two pieces of Rye or Pumpernickel bread (or one piece of Rye or Pumpernickel, folded in half)
Cream cheese (optional)
I’ll leave it up to you how you put all those things together; that is the secret of The Sandwich.
I should warn you, though. The Sandwich has Powers. Your life could easily become consumed by thoughts of The Sandwich. When you are without The Sandwich, you may think of nothing but The Sandwich. It will take over your every waking moment.
…so on Thursday night, I dreamt *all night*, and in vivid detail about PAINTING MY NAILS. All. Gorram. Night.