In my dream last night, I was a Lady Gaga-type. And by that, I mean I was really famous and I wasn’t wearing pants. A dozen dazed drug addicts were trying to kill me (I’ve clearly read too much Jerzy Kosinksi) as a favor to someone they owed a lot of money to. I was able to charm them out of it, which totally makes sense, and then I BFF’d two of them. The three of us went to a sushi restaurant that was owned by the mother of my new male bff. The restaurant had an elaborate sushi buffet in the shape of the Milky Way. Everything was perfect: the colors, the shapes, the relative sizes, the moons, etc. It was the coolest thing ever. I offered to do paid search (make and place Google ads) for the restaurant gratis for sparing my life.
Blogger’s Note: Apparently this is the closest thing on the Internet to “universe made of sushi,” “planets made of sushi,” and “milky way made of sushi.” LAME. This is an open request to the citizens of the Internet to make my dream of a galaxy made of sushi come true. But, uh, totally down to not have the part about drug addicts trying to kill me come true.