The bar heist

So there I was with Mal Reynolds, Zoe Washburn, Bailey Weaver, and associated other crew, knocking over this cool outdoor bar. Our plan was to incite an altercation, bamboozle the police when they came, and then make off with the money and some other valuable stuff they had.

We started a fight between two drunk patrons, and when the cops got there, we let them put handcuffs on us as a sign that we weren’t involved and would help out with their questioning. They ran out of handcuffs, though, so they had to use this special handcuff lotion on my wrists instead, and then they locked me with a bike lock to a trash can down the road a bit, which meant I didn’t get to see the rest of the heist go down. As I was waiting I pulled out my phone and updated my Facebook status: “Currently handcuffed to a trash can. All part of the plan.”

A few minutes later, Bailey comes running down from the bar and unlocks me from the trash can.
“I had a hard time getting the keys off the cop,” she said. “He was sorta dead, and they were underneath him, and he was hard to move.”
“Why was he hard to move?” I asked. “He wasn’t that big.”
“No, but the other cop was dead on top of him,” she replied.
“That would explain it.”

We got the loot stowed in the secret compartments in our getaway minivan, which we had parked behind a small Thai restaurant a block or two down the street. I was sitting on a wall eating a caramel cookie from Trader Joe’s as Mal was being questioned by the FBI guys who had just showed up. He told them that we had been at the bar, but we’d apparently missed all the excitement. I offered to share my cookie with the other FBI guy, and he accepted. I decided it wasn’t particularly nice to give him a cookie I’d already taken a bite out of, but then I realized that getting another cookie out would mean rummaging through the back of the minivan, which probably wasn’t a great idea. So I told him it was the last cookie, broke off the part I’d already bitten, and gave him the rest. The FBI guys drove off, I piled in the minivan with everyone else, and then I woke up.

I’m kinda sad that all of this was just a dream.


Last night’s dream

I was on a mission to go to the elementary school and get some of the popcorn they use to feed their class hamsters. I noticed I was wearing a shirt with a personally-identifiable URL on it, and concluded I would have to wear it inside-out and burn the shirt after the mission was over. Then I saw Alex Trebek, who was picking up his kid from school, and Don Eisenbarth posted about it on Facebook.


So, I just remembered last night’s dream (thanks to the Evernote note I wrote when I woke up from it).

My old roommate Jordan and I were walking up the hill to the Best Buy for some reason. When we got to the parking lot, my sister was driving around in a car with my niece. So then my sister and I went to the 7-11 right there, where I got in trouble because I didn’t realize the Slurpee machine wasn’t self-serve — you had to wait for the attendant to go pour your Slurpee for you.┬áThen the other attendant, whose name was Antonio (but he had a Slavic accent), told me that my beard is “like a hundred red pieces of doctrine” (this was apparently a compliment) and gave me his phone number.