Like for sure man.

The missus and me are back from our trip to California. NorCal, dude, we hit Oakland, Carmel, San Francisco, and Napa Valley. I asked how they get the wine into the box, but they just looked at me funny.

More to follow on a wonderful trip.

Right before I woke up this morning I had the strangest dream.

Quentin Tarantino was using a backhoe to demolish my house. I was worried about him hurting the cat, so I jumped up into the cab and beat the crap out of him. I took the keys to the backhoe and as he walked away he shouted, "I have another set of keys and tomorrow you won't be able to beat up who I send."

The next day I hear the backhoe start up so I run outside. There's two ten-year-old girls working the backhoe as it is breaking through my roof.

I jump up to the cab and the little girls look at me and say, "Our daddy said you wouldn't hurt us."

I looked at the girls and their sweet little eyes and said, "Your daddy was wrong" and I beat the crap out of them. Then I took the backhoe and drove it to Johnny Cash's backyard and got it stuck in the mud next to his tractor. His dad looked on wide-eyed.

It must have been something in the artichokes that made me dream like that.

Labels: dreams, Quentin Tarantino, travel

I think you had a little too much wine 'from the box' (smile)

Good to hear you had a nice trip!

Picture yourself on a train in a station,
With plasticine porters with looking glass ties,
Suddenly someone is there at the turnstyle,
The girl with the kaleidoscope eyes



Karl sees all.........