in an attempt to lighten my mood a bit, if not everyone else's, i shall recount the details of a dream i had either last night or the one before. the scintillation is palpable.

so this girl and i work across from each other at, you ready?, a sandwich factory. nono. no. not a sandwich shop, nor a deli. a sandwich factory. somehow we mass-produce them, but by hand, because let me tell you, i was piecing-together sandwiches with no robots to be seen. there was a conveyor belt though.

the two of us ostensibly had been on a date or two as there was that sort of feel. i don't know for sure, i didn't ask. however, the subject of kissing came up and she noted how she liked kissing me (or something, i don't remember what she said about it, so why not make it self-promotional, right?). [this bit surely came from an article i read on differences of opinion regarding kissing between male and female undergrads. [link] and though it is probably sexist to say, the conclusions of that article are the most obvious, most stereotypical i've ever seen.]

so just about then the dream ends. no after work makeout, no dinner, no movie, no laverne and shirley glove conveyed into the distance. so i made sandwiches in a factory, and didn't get the girl. i think my conscious has been filling in for my subconscious for a long time.



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number 9.. .   .? andy andy andy, get your adverbs here

now it's time to leave