I had this dream where I'm buying beer at a mom-and-pop corner store and as I'm putting my change in my wallet this old, queeny guy pulls a pair of big, hairy, rubber balls out of his pocket and plonks them down in front of the cashier.
The balls slowly ride down the little conveyor belt until they're in front of me, and I'm all, Wow! Those are some amazing balls!
I pick them up and they're heavy, and they're this realistic brownish-pink with long black hairs all over them, and I'm so obviously happy about them that the queeny guy shrugs and tells me I can keep them.
I can't wait to show them to Jack, and I walk home so happy with a pair of big, hairy balls in my pants pocket.
I run up our stairs and start telling Jack how I got them, but halfway through my story he turns half away to watch a Raiders game on TV.
I'm so furious at him for not listening that I stomp off to my office and slam the door.
Then I hear Jack leave the apartment, and a few minutes later I get an e-mail from him.
He knows that my computer is the only way to get through to me.
This dream reveals far too much about me, never mind the fact that it isn't nearly sexy enough for Internet consumption. Apparently I really wish I had a pair of balls? And can only get close to people through e-mail. Hoo-fucking-ray and welcome to the twenty-first century.
Also, I bought the Fluevogs. Not the other ones. These.