"Hoes, Dave. Dave, Hoes." "Good Evening, Bitches."

I totally fell asleep on the N train when I was coming home last night. I waited for what felt like an hour (but was really only about fifteen minutes) for it to come. I sat down, remember going through the Queensborough tunnel for about the first five seconds, and the next thing I know, we're at Broadway. Ummmm, yeah. I guess that four pints of Yuengling will do that to you. I get home, throw my coat, shoes, and clothes on the floor, and climb into bed. Gloriously naked. Now that the weather is starting to change (the brief exception being yesterday), my "I love to sleep naked" phase is starting to resurface. My bed has never felt that good before ever. It was time to get those glorious five hours of sleep before having to trudge to work this morning.

So there I was, having this AWESOME sex dream this morning. You know, the kind where you wake up and think, "Damn, was that real? Cuz that sure felt like it was real." It was good, and it wasn't some anonymous stranger either, it was someone I know, so it had the potential to be an actual situation. Someone that I've thought about, you know, that way. Hehe. And it's funny, because the dream started out completely innocent too. However, I know that it wasn't real. I knew this when I woke up because I looked at my alarm clock and it read 7:28 AM. Fuuuuuuuuuuuck. Not a good situation for someone who has to be out the door no later than 7:50 to make it to work by 8:30. I jump out of bed only to have to sit back down again. Raging headache. How is that possible when I drank enough water last night to fill a kiddie pool? My shower lasted about a grand total of five minutes, just long enough to wash the beer smell off so that the poor people next to me on the subway weren't going to vomit from it. Remember those days in college when you'd go to class completely hungover and smelling like the previous night's keg (or gallon, hehe) of choice? Good times. Somehow I don't think that would be appropriate anymore.

Anyway, at this point, I have a grand total of about 15 minutes to find something to wear, put in my contacts, put my make-up on so I don't look like a total zombie, get my shit together that I am taking to work, and pack my breakfast. And you know what? I was out the door at 7:52. I'm so good.

And now I am at work. Headache still raging. And the coffee machine is fucking broken, so I am going to have to go across the street to Starbucks to pay two dollars for coffee that could be free in my office. Bitches.