Last night I dreamed that Adam Savage and I tested a myth together.
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As complete geeks go, they don't get much hotter
than Adam Savage. |
Um...this is where it gets tricky to write about. You see, the myth was, uh, personal in nature and involved getting drunk and, uh.... I don't want to go any further because I totally don't want to give anyone the impression that I had a sex dream about Adam Savage.
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Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts. |
Anyway, I told Beloved Spouse about my dream this morning, hoping he would be aghast, but apparently he was only amused. He offered me an on the spot dream analysis, which is a service he is always willing to provide because he loves to point out how ridiculous my dreams are.
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His dreams usually involve saving the world from Genghis Khan
with his personal army of Fembots. |
I listened to his point-by-point dissection of the imagery and psychological significance of my dream until I got creeped out by the fact that he was obviously starting to make up new stuff that was never in my head. He does that. Because he's a dude and there is soft-core porn movie music running in his head at all times.
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A man can look at two librarians and a card catalogue
and see a sorority lesbian jello-shot orgy waiting to happen.
Although I must admit, I find the Dewey Decimal System
pretty sexy, myself. |
Anyway, his analysis (which I'm not going to detail here because it was totally unflattering to my psyche and also pretty accurate) left out one salient point: Why Adam Savage, of all people?
His answer, and I am not making this up: "Because your subconscious knows you couldn't get Jamie Hyneman."
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Oooo...burn. |
Harrumph.
I would be so pissed off. Except he's probably right.
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Apropos of nothing,
Moltar and Jamie - separated at birth? |
And this is a totally normal Sunday morning conversation at the Baudelaire house.
Welcome to my world.
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