and then we went to dinner at this chinese place in cashtown that we'd passed when we were coming home from gettysburg on saturday. which was, you know, like an hour and a half away. and lead to us getting home at like two, with about twelve thousand boxes of leftovers and completely (stir)-fried brains. (and yes, the food was so worth it).
and i'm guessing that these are not circumstances that lead to good dreams, because, in my dream, there was a talking spring roll. and it was telling me that i'd been rejected by every college i ever applied to. and i was sitting there pleading with the spring roll to let me into college, any college, and the spring roll was all 'no way, jose' and i was devastated.
and then death appeared. and death's friend. and for some reason death was this guy from cobra starship named alex suarez and his friend was nate (the drummer). and then death ripped a piece off the spring roll and was all 'it's time to go.'
and then my mother woke me up. at four am. because the dog was barking and she wanted to make sure i wasn't being murdered or sneaking out of the house or joining a mormon polygamous cult or anything.
unfortunately, her idea of waking me up involved sneaking into my room, standing by the side of the bed right where my face was, and poking me in the shoulder. while i was dreaming about dying via electropoppunk band and college-hating spring roll.
needless to say, my reaction was a little too filled with **** to type.
and then i wound up the night by falling out of the bed (the shock! the horror! the spring roll!) and cutting myself on my shoe rack (it's by my bed).
life sucks.
off to babysit.
