Welcome to my Nightmares
Friends, I'm not going to lie to you. You are seeing one tired-ass pirate trying to post right now. I'm tired because I haven't been sleeping well, and I'm not sleeping well because of the damned nightmares. Lemme share some of them with ya:
When I was a wee l'il pirate, my mom forbid me from seeing scare movies because they might give me bad dreams. But somehow, "Bambi II: The Revenge" slipped right past her.
If you don't share my deep-seated dread of disembodied, soft-focus Persian Kitten heads, you simply aren't doing enough hallucinagens.
In my nightmares, these dudes are always working out at my gym.
In my nightmares, I show up at a really cool basement party wearing a clown sweater. Oh wait, that really happened.
You better effing believe I'm being stalked by a giant rabbit in my nightmares. But I'm not going to let that get in the way of special friendship with Carl here. We've got something beautiful.
In my nightmares, Saturday night is Grandma's beard-washin' night.
In my nightmares, I'm stuck at a party with these people; there's nothing to drink but warm Zima; and Nickelback is on the stereo.
In my nightmares, The Hoff is allowed near small puppies.
Okay kid, you're going to have to trust me on this one: whatever you do, do not turn around, because if you do, you will piss those fire engine red trousers of yours.
Aw crap, he turned around. Oh the humanity.
Something tells me this isn't going to end well either.
Great leapin' lizards, there's that damned rabbit again! Run, children, run to the hills! Run for your lives!
In my nightmares, I'm being chased by Jesus in Nikes and he's got a posse of angry, angry santas with him.
In my nightmares, this guy completes my annual performance review.
In my nightmares, doctors will perform a surgery that will literally move your ass to the front of your legs. It's called the B.I.F. (Butt in Front) procedure. P.S. I guess what they say about horizontal stripes making you look fat is true.
That's okay. Smiling is totally for suckwads anyhoo.
Wow. These are really going to have an aerodynamic advantage over me when we have that Big Wheels race down Summit Hill.
President Palin. 'Nuff said.
These dudes pretty much provide the funky soundtrack to my nightmares.
I thought my childhood meeting with Spiderman was going to be a dream come true, but it turned into a nightmare pretty damned fast. And no, I don't want to talk about it.
In my nightmares, I've really really really got to go, only to find some hipster passed on the bog mid-crap.
The other thing that's worse is opening the bathroom door to see this going on.