Last night dreamt I was a kumquat........but since I don't know what exactly a kumquat is I suffered a major identity crisis and started to tell everyone I was star fruit. It just got weird from there.
My proctologist suggested that I keep a journal at my bedside to capture thoughts and ideas that I have at night. I suggested that he have a manicure.
The problem isn't remembering some great idea that I have. It's trying to forget, or at least understand, the really twisted things that pop into my head. While waiting in line for stamps I wondered why it is that the first scoop of peanut butter tastes far superior than the rest of the jar. Then I realized it might have something to do using a Snicker's bar as a spoon while standing in the bread aisle.
Why was I buying stamps anyway? The last time I hand wrote a letter the teller handed it back to me with a red ink edits on my spelling of stik-up.
Turns out that kumquats are commonly mistaken for oranges, which only exaserbated the whole identity crisis issue. I fired my proctologist. But first I gave him an emory board.