obama and my momma

can you believe it's not even noon, i'm not even out of bed, and i already have advice to share with you? that's because i'm a goddamn genius, gump.

i had the weirdest fucking dream EVER last night. do let me expand...

setting: family vacation, me and the fam and some people i don't even know at this weird little shop in an expensive little touristy town. brothers and i are shopping for touristy things when i find the coolest pair of off-white snake skin print leather pants. (HEY. it's my damn dream, you shut the hell up.) they're my size, they fit perfect, they're priced accordingly and as such i MUST have them.

we're perusing the goods when i find myself face to face with the wife of presidential candidate barack obama, michelle. how exciting. i think i may vote for your husband, i say. oh, thanks, she says. why don't you tell him?

and there he is. i'm holding off-white leather pants and discussing the upcoming presidential election with barack obama. weird. he invites us to dinner. well isn't that just the bees knees?

i run out to the van (yes, we're driving the herd around in a *van*) to share the news - we're having dinner with obama and my momma. except there are a lot of people chasing me and i don't know why. the saleslady, the dudes in black suits with the sunglasses - i have no idea wtf is going on except maybe this is like the pre-dinner warm up to make sure we're all hungry and no food goes to waste.

nope. i'm still holding the pants, which i haven't paid for. i get dragged back into the store, i pay for the pants. my momma won't go to dinner with obama (she thinks he is the signal of the coming of the apocolypse) but i do.

and that man can put down some shots.

so. the moral of the story is: pay for any goods you may be holding before you attempt to eat dinner with a presidential candidate. getting tackled by the secret service is NO FUN. even in your sleep.

the end.