I Have to Quit Reading the Star

Last night I had a dream that Nicole Richie was at my house and the dog ate her shoe. I promised to buy her a new pair - fortunately, they were only $38 shoes.

And they were white and ugly. Like those waffle weave things from the '80s.

In an unrelated dream, I was on my way to a mall when I had to abandon the truck because there were SWAT teams and all sorts of police in the street have some kind of gun fight. They did not, however, care that I was walking right through the middle of whatever was going on.

There were mounds of shell casings in the gutter.

So I must be feeling better, right?