There I was, asleep, in the midst of a fine, fine shimmery sexy dream that involved Mike Doughty. It only makes sense since I had written about The Book of Drugs yesterday. So Mike and I were trying to get our sexy on and there was annoying girl making it difficult. And then Mel Gibson was on the front lawn banging two cookie sheets together and making a ridiculous amount of ruckus. This clanging alarmed me and Mike Doughty in a most dramatic fashion and we fell out of bed where his glasses landed on the ground and broke. This ruined his mood.
Also, while Mel Gibson was protesting with the cookie sheets on the front lawn I discovered my sixteen-year-old cat, Madison, had burrowed through the wall into the neighbor’s house and there was a barn owl stuck in the wall. Animal control told me that the only way to get the barn owl out would involve killing it, so I should just let it live there.
Also, I was never a Mel Gibson fan. Never saw the Lethal Weapons movies, never understood his sexual appeal, and now I actively dislike him and his cookie sheet wielding bullshit.