a late night pepperoni roll

last night, i went with TheMom and two of her friends to a charity basketball game between the pittsburgh steelers and a local private high school. i didn't realize it started at 8PM (we left at 6:45PM to get there) so it was a bit by the time we got back home leaving any sort of normal dinner of the question. no fast food open (and i'm on a diet of sorts) so i went to the grocery store and picked up one of their italian subs and a pepperoni roll (hah, yeah, THAT'S healthy). that led to some crazy dreams.

in the first, i was ready to get married in india, when my fiancee showed up in a purple lamborghini with joe francis (from 'girls gone wild' fame). they were flirting hardcore, and i flipped. my bride-to-be was not going to be flashing the bridal party for his $$$. so i called it off, then suddenly the wedding wasn't mine. jules and i were at the same wedding but another friend of mine was getting married, the ceremony was over, and it was time to throw rice, but there was no rice. a parade float pulled up between the front pews of the church and the altar and stopped in front of everyone; all the while, the bride had changed into a wifebeater, jeans, and veil. the float had on it a various array of white fluids and semi-fluids. overly large packets of mayonnaise, big squeeze tubes of cake icing, pitchers of cream, tubs of white cookie dough, etc., and i was the only one who knew what to do with it... this was our 'rice'. i grabbed an icing packet in one hand, a pitcher of cream on the other, and threw them all over the bridal party. jules along with most of the attendees were horrified until they saw the bride laughing and doing the same. it then turned into a white food fight.

i woke up around 5:30AM to get some water and was back in bed around 5:35AM, straight to dreaming. in this second dream, i was sitting next to rob van winkle (vanilla ice y'all) at a baseball game. for some reason, i got "ice ice baby" stuck in my head and started singing it. if you don't know about vanilla ice, he hates that he WAS vanilla ice, hates everything about that part of his life, and usually blows up violently when it is brought up (baseball bats and temper tantrums are often involved). so, i'm singing it, and he's getting pissed. i told him i was sorry, but it was tuck in my head. we should talk about his anger issues. **dream teleport** all the sudden we are at an independent record store after closing, and ice is laying on the checkout counter, psychiatrist style, talking about his issues. we talked about his other failed albums (in the dreams he had ANOTHER rap album, a slow jazz love song album a la lionel richie, and a rock song album). we talked about why they failed, blah blah blah, and we determined that he was a poser. he'd tried to do rap when rap was big, boy band music (without the boy band) when it was big, the same with rock, and that he had to find his inner musician to be happy. we searched and found out he had no inner musician, he was just a big ol' philanthropist at heart. the reason that he was able to make such bad music at the wrong time was that he was filthy stinkin' rich BEFORE he'd gotten into music (no one knew). his family was loaded and he wanted to try to be something other than a male "paris hilton". he failed, of course, but he tried. so he talked to the indy music store owner, and asked her is she'd like to own more, he bought he a franchise around the country, and people were now safe to sing "ice ice baby" in front of him. my job was done.

so, in short, no more "baffo's pepperoni rolls" for me after 10PM.