New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on March 17, 2012:
I was laying in bed with Brad Pitt in my dream last night. You see, I was in the bed because he and Angelina Jolie offered for me to sleep on the fourth floor spiral staircase tower but when I got up there it was only barstools and totally windy I was afraid of heights, so the only other place for me was in the bed next to Brad Pitt, obviously. We were only looking at a photo of him and a bunch of kids lined up on some 1970's basement stairs. In the back, there was a framed picture that said, Minnesota. I was hilarious when I said *out of the side of my mouth, in 1930s-newspaper-worker-accent and with hand up like a mock Vlassic pickle*, "Minnesota? I'm pretty sure I've been in that basement." He laughed.
Angelina Jolie came in the room. She was wearing a very strange outfit. When I saw it, I quipped *out of the side of my mouth, in 1930s-newspaper-worker-accent and with hand up like a mock Vlassic pickle*, "Wow, that outfit is like equal parts Rosie the Riveter, G.I. Joe, and Pippi Longstocking." Of course, she jumped to an incorrect conclusion and slowly and dramatically loaded a double barrel shotgun -- the kind you bend in half to put the shells in -- and I begged her not to shoot me but she did anyway. Right in the shoulder and even in the dream it hurt real bad.
I started to sort of scream and make weird noises (kind of like that news lady who was crushing grapes on YouTube and she fell and started making a weird gurgling throat noise and the whole world laughed at her), and then I decided that I was embarrassing myself and so I cut it out. As I was bleeding to death, I asked them if they didn't mind if I called my mom. I called her, laughing about how I was totally calling from BRAD and ANGELINA's cell phone. I told her I was probably dying from being shot but still cracking jokes about ending up in some gossip magazine like the Star Tribune (even in my dream I realized this was in error) in a weird love triangle that didn't exist. Because NOTHING was going on except me cracking Brad Pitt up over and over, obviously.
Then Angelina Jolie ran outside like a crazy person and threw the shotgun in the snow. I looked at Brad and said, *out of the side of my mouth, in 1930s-newspaper-worker-accent and with hand up like a mock Vlassic pickle* "that's a really bad idea", and we laughed again.
|"Kady, you are hiLARious in your dreams."|
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