Bones:Wanna hear something awesome? We have a HIPSTER in the office! He’s interviewing with ****. Skinny jeans, snow boots, chunky hand-knit scarf, t-shirt and about a gallon of cologne. Sweet guy, though. He thinks the vintage photos of angry tree-scarf knitting is brilliant. He said no one will probably understand it, though. No one’s ever even heard of it. I figure that’s a good sign.
Voodoo:LOL I believed you until the vintage photos thing.
Seriously, though? You got a hipster? Buddy Holly glasses?
If no one’s ever heard of it, we’re home free. Unless even that’s too mainstream these days.
Bones:OH NO! I hadn’t even thought about not being mainstream maybe being too mainstream…. So what is not mainstream enough?
No glasses, but totally Hipster. I bet he has lens-less Buddy Holly glasses at home. Seriously. In my office. How often do you actually see them out of their natural environment?
Voodoo:LOL, that’s Williamsburg, right? Well, more locally, campus/Short North. People are always saying “eat locally.” Maybe you should eat him. Then you could call yourself a locavore and a philanthropist.
Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m really tired.
Bones:That… That was maybe the best thing ever. I feel like that ought to be published. Can you write the rest of that book?
He’s kind of skinny, though. Maybe he’d work for an amuse-bouche.
Voodoo:I feel awful for you! Is there still a file fort built all around you? If so, I think you should at least do what you can to make it bearable. Make the files into several large stacks, drape a sheet over them to make a fort, make some cute bunting to hang in there, play some music, throw some pillows around, etc. You’ve got to make this work for you! Make it delightful!
So, my dream was weird too. I was in charge of looking after a bunch of people (who were elsewhere, which is my favorite kind) and I was in bed, finally getting some sleep (and this whole thing took place in a lumberyard. Jesus, I don’t know.) and someone came by to wake me up and ask where the people were. It was Paul McCartney. He was good-naturedly giving me a hard time about where the people I was looking after were and wanted to see the paperwork on them, so I handed him a folder. In it was a Paul McCartney concert ticket stub and he pulled it out and teased me about loving him so much I kept my ticket stubs forever. Then we set off around the lumberyard to look for these people.
All I ate last night before bed was yogurt and granola, I didn’t listen to any Beatles/Wings, etc. last night, and I’ve never been to a McCartney concert. I do love the man, but I don’t know what that was about.
Bones:I LOVE the idea of a file fort. I regret to inform you that I will be unavailable to assist you with your requests for the next two hours. It is fort time. Kbai.
Wow. That is one crazy dream! I like how you try to justify how totally unrelated to anything the dream was by saying “All I ate before bed last night was yogurt and granola.” Was it all-natural granola? Because I can totally see a connection between The Beatles and your hippie food. Quote of the day, “I do love the man, but I don’t know what that was about.”
Plot Twist:We all lose our social anxiety and order our pizza's through the phone without hesitation and nervousness, we successfully greet everyone at family gatherings without jumbling up words and asking "how are you" twice, and we lose the habit of practicing to say our orders before saying it to the waitress.