The horrible puns are back in my dreams

(3 am. – promoted by ek hornbeck)

I guess it’s happened to me at least about a thousand times in my life that I can remember. My dreams have horrible puns in them. It’s not my fault. It’s not on purpose. It’s what my dreams do.

I’ll wake up half laughing hysterically and half screaming with horror at some utterly vicious, merciless twist of semi-conscious wit my strangely wired brain produces.

Well, this morning’s example was too good, and too topical, not to share:

I’m at a restaurant in New Orleans. An acquaintance of mine (female) is sitting at a table for two in the restaurant having some food. I am being told by other mutual friends of mine who are standing elsewhere in a corner of the room to bring something over to the table that is essentially an elaborate practical joke involving a pun on the word “booty” – it’s like this jack-in-the-box supposed to look like a pirate treasure chest that opens up and flashes a plastic model of a naked ass on a spring, and it’s a joke that the entire group has been working to play on this woman for months. Today is apparently the big day because it’s “pirate day” or something and most of us are dressed like pirates.

So I turn to them and say, “Oh, no need to worry. Barack is smart enough to know that booty is only skin deep.” I haven’t even told you about the coffee puns yet, but I’ll hold off on those for now.

If my warped mind is going to insist on waking me up in this horrid manner, I’m going to make sure the rest of you have to endure it too. ;-7