Don't let your roommates give you plastic surgery...

I mean it. Don't. How does this topic come up? As most of my off the wall posts do-- I had a dream.


First off, I'm tired of Evil Kacey dreams.

Just want to put that out there.

Secondly, I was up here in Rexburg in my dream. I saw stitches on my hairline. Huh. What's that all about? Apparently I let my old roommate give me a face lift. Well, it didn't turn out all that bad, though I must admit the thought of a face lift ne'er crossed my mind. Then I noticed something else was wrong. My middle toe on my right foot was broken. And my knee couldn't bend very well. And something was wrong with my hip, I don't remember what. It turns out, I let my old roommate give me a leg lift too. Now, I never thought I'd get a leg lift (which is just like a face lift on your leg. Sounds pretty pointless to me too), but I certainly felt the urge last night. My roommate, however, hadn't done one o those before and pulled the skin too tight, and so my foot falanges couldn't fit in my skin. I had a dislocated toe. And here's the worst part: I couldn't stop messing with it. I kept poking my dislocated falange, and Carolyn, the amazing surgeon, said she would fix it for me.

Oh. Great.

I laid on the picnic table (we were at a public park) and waited for her to give me anesthetic. I realized when she approached me with a scalpel that she wasn't going to give me one.

Holy. Crap.

Anyway, I woke up to the sound of Ron White's irritatingly gravelly voice (forgot that CD was in my alarm clock) and was saved from certain plastic surgery death.


The end.


PS- Satan is a bus driver.