Cross Country Invitational.....IN RUSSIA?!?!?!?!

So today I went to a cross country meet in Scranton. On the way home we stopped at a pizzeria and everyone on the team got their own pie of absolutely AMAZING pizza. We were eating on the bus and Jimmy pointed out that we drove by a sign that said Moscow-2 miles. We all laughed and joked about how we had accidentally driven onto a glacier and it broke off and we floated to Russia. Well, eating 3/4 of a medium pizza pie in 10 minutes does have it's effects on you. I fell asleep as soon as I got home.

I had a dream about that bus ride. We saw the Moscow sign, and laughed about it, but then we were pulled over by an armored vehicle with the Georgian flag on it. Three soldiers emerged from it, two carrying AK-47's and the third carrying some ridiculous gun that you'd only see in science fiction movies. Well they told us to get out of the bus and lay in the street. All of us did as we were told, except for one.....Peter Bank. He just stood there playing with his hair in a girlie fashion and bouncing his tennis ball. The Georgians shoved him in their vehicle and he was not seen again. They drove away, and Coach Miller told us that we should chase the car and rescue Peter, but we were far too lazy. So we get back on the bus and act like nothing happened. Then we get pulled over by a patrol of Russian troops who saw the prior events. They take us to their head quarters where they try to tell us about some insane super hero scheme to end the war...but none of us pay any attention and eventually start making fun of them. They become angry and force us to run a race in Russia against a bunch of really tall and really buff guys. If we win we could go home but if we lose we'd be forced to spend the remainder of our lives with the guy who sang "Chocolate Rain" on YouTube...a fate worse than death. So we're running. It's an open plain with no trees or scenery at all. Nice and flat. Everyone in Moscow comes to the race. We are losing miserably to the tall buff guys, when all of the sudden the spectators start exploding. Now I'm not talking about guts and blood flying everywhere (I'm not that weird) but they were like grenade explosions. Then the tall buff guys started exploding. Helicopters flew over head and British special forces fast roped down. One of them yelled at us to stop running and I woke up. INSANE!!!!!!!

Deer Head Drama With A Side Of Mustard!!!!!!

So I had this dream today in sociology class with Mr. Williams where I was in the Delaware Water Gap, my home away from home. I saw this car go by, but instead of leaving a trail of carbon emission, it was leaving a trail of yellow mustard. At first it wasn't a big deal...but then I realized how disgusting it was to have mustard all over the roads so I got in my mom's Honda Pilot and started chasing him. I ran out of gas at the Deer Head Inn, a restaurant where I play the blues every other Thursday night, and went inside to call my mom. I walked in and it was blues night with Spencer Reed who was sitting on stage smoking a cigarette and playing BB King tunes. That makes this dream even weirder...first of all-Spencer doesn't smoke, second-it was broad daylight and they were calling it blues night, and third-blues night is on Thursdays...not Tuesdays. If you want to get even further into it, Blues Night was not for another week. Well Spencer invites me and anyone else who wants to play on stage with him as he always does on Blues Night. I went into a rage that I hadn't been able to make my phone call and that the road was now a river of mustard. I kicked over the drum set, swept the glasses off the bar and stormed out. Just then Mr. Williams woke me up to take a quiz. The only two questions on the quiz were to write the words to the pledge of allegiance and the national anthem. I thought this was all part of my twisted dream and i actually had to pinch myself to convince me otherwise.

So there's my story for tonight....maybe I should be in psychology instead of sociology.