2 sleep, % 2 dream

Read that title, then shoot me. It's ok, really. I haven't abbreviated with numbers in my writing since high school, and the days of C Chat. (for the St. Louisans) Remember C Chat? Hubby-Man dragged me to a CChat get together at a park, and I never wanted to go to another. That was back when nerds were nerds. We're talking pale, thin, acne ridden boys with pocket protectors, here. I felt so incredibly out of place, standing next to the man I eventually married. From my asymmetrical haircut to my cute little pumps with bows on the toes, I did not fit. As a matter of fact, I was from such a different world, that most of the boys didn't even see me. That's probably why I didn't want to go to anymore CChat get togethers.

Anyway... I didn't sleep well last night. I had a ton of stories running through my head, plus the delightful "Jukebox Hero" by Foreigner as background. ...Standin' in the rain. With his head hung low. Couldn't get a ticket. It was a sold out show. Heard the roar of the crowd, he could picture the scene. Put his head to the wall, and like a distant scream; He heard one guitar. Just blew him away... etc. Is it running through your head yet? Muahaha. Shared pain is lessened, shared joy is multiplied!

I'm actually going somewhere with this. All the potential blog stories kept me awake, and I don't really want to write any of them. I want to write about nifty things. 100 things about me would probably bore everyone but me.