theme song

I had a dream last night. It was very espionage-esk. There was a group of us girls, not dressed in amazon clothes but formal gowns for a political rally of sorts. There were many rooms.

We had to figure out who kept taking the pictures of the dead people hanging from the ceiling and who was killing them too. I spoted her first. Blonde without the mask. No one believed me. I remember the conversation about protecting my innocence. I laughed. Ha. Ha.

Pieces were missing from there, but i found her hiding place. I tried to ask Mrs. Bartlett for information but she wouldn't have me. Bitter first lady, dealing with the amatures. I understood.

I remember pinning her to the ground. The bloody photographer, not the first lady. She squirmed like a slippery congressman. I managed to clam her down and get both her legs and right arm under my knee. She confessed. I asked, "what gives?" She told me about the times she was in control and everything was perfect at 76th and 127th st. A moment of silent inquiry...my old bus stop. Everything was perfect until i came along and Cole Balogh shifted his aim.

Professionalism fell to shit after that remark becacuse i laughed for hours about how this all came from a gradeschool crush and what a stupid ass world this is and then she pointed out that i didn't understand politics so i walked home in the rain and somewhere around the Crestwood Ice Arena i got picked up by the motorcade.



(Cole, if you're reading this for some reason....i dunno either...i just needed something to write about today ;)