I had weird dreams last night.
In one, I was talking to Britney Spears. She was wearing very tight pants. Kevin Federline was nowhere to be found, but I think they were still married. I don't remember what Ms. Spears-Federline said, but she was pissy during our entire exchange. Maybe she couldn't breathe in her tight, tight pants and wanted me to stop dreaming about her so that she could go put on some sweat pants and a tube top. She's country, after all.
In another, a mouse dropped from the ceiling in a room of a house I did not recognize. I commanded the cats to attack and, well, you know, eat the mice. George pounced ... and then began licking the mouse. I said kill not groom, you dipshit.
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