Dear Brain,

Please quit it with the weird dreams. It really needs to stop. Last week's pregnant with triplets dream wasn't bad enough for you, was it? Two nights ago, you had to go and make me pregnant AGAIN, excpet this time instead of playing "Magic: The Gathering" I was playing D&D with the gang, and euph0ra was pregnant too. It was the week before faire, and all I kept saying was "One of us better pop before Saturday, or else we're screwed!"

'Cause, you know, you can't wear a bodice with a pregnant belly, let alone run around selling roses for eight hours.

Woke up in a cold sweat from that one, and now my co-worker thinks I need to take a pregnancy test. (I don't, by the way. For certain.)

Last night there were no babies (thank goodness) but the weirdness didn't stop. You decided that the American government had invented a BB-type bullet, that could be fired from anywhere in the world and hit a specific target. Not a missle, mind you. A BB. 'Cause that makes sense.

Anyway, for some reason I was in Iraq, except it wasn't Iraq because it wasn't a desert, and I got hit with one of those fuckers, in the back of my left arm. I had a really hard time finding medical attention, because no one spoke English. I think I was wanted for some sort of crime, but I don't remember what.

So, Brain, I'm done with the crazy dreams. I don't care if Uranus is in retrograde or whatever, you're finished. The dreams stop, or I'll stab you with a Q-tip!

No Love,
Your Owner