You guys, I'm seriously starting to worry about my brain. OK, so last night I dreamt that I was in a tornado and we all went to this big room in some building to sit through the storm. And who do I see sitting across from me but President George W. Douche, I mean, Bush. At first I tried to ignore him, but he wouldn't stop talking so I started arguing with him about Iraq and the troops and how Barack Obama would (HANDS DOWN) kick his ass at Trivial Pursuit and then he stormed out of the room and when he came back? He was wearing Scooby Doo pajama pants with his shirt, tie, and suit jacket and he came and stood in front of me and started yelling at me and saying I was mean so I started yelling at him and told him not to be childish and finally he sat down next to me and sighed, "I am NOT childish," and I said, "Really, George? Because Scooby Doo would beg to differ."
PS: My mom left the perviest comment EVER on this blog. And all I have to say is . . . I'm sorry if she offended your delicate sensibilities. I thought I raised her better than that.
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