THE ICON WAS MY FACE WHEN I WOKE UP
I don't know what brought this on (I also don't know why I'm blogging about it before I leave for work). It might've been the plate of chicken fingers I ate right before bed, it might be because my subconscious has a sick, sense of humor.
Last night, I had a dream about MESSI.
And it wasn't like a dream where I was a fighter pilot and eventually got to punch him in the face or something, because that'd be cool.
NO, IT WAS A ROMANTIC DREAM.
ESKIMO KISSES (WHICH BTW WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK) WERE EXCHANGED. I SAID A LINE LIKE: "D'aw, I'm so lucky to be dating the 'Messi-ah"."
And then I woke up.
WEEPING. WEEPING SO OPENLY.
Last night, I had a dream about MESSI.
And it wasn't like a dream where I was a fighter pilot and eventually got to punch him in the face or something, because that'd be cool.
NO, IT WAS A ROMANTIC DREAM.
ESKIMO KISSES (WHICH BTW WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK) WERE EXCHANGED. I SAID A LINE LIKE: "D'aw, I'm so lucky to be dating the 'Messi-ah"."
And then I woke up.
WEEPING. WEEPING SO OPENLY.