So I've been extremely tired lately. It might have to do with the stress of Christmas and getting everything done in time, or it could have to do with every time I lay down in bed, my mind starts spinning and I create these awesome blogs filled with wonderful and witty things to tell ya'll. And then, eventually, I fall asleep.
A few days before Christmas, I had a dream just before I woke up about my boyfriend Drew Brees. (For those of you who don't know, Drew Brees is the quarterback for the New Orleans Saints, and he went to Purdue, and led us to the Rose Bowl.) (And also let me make it clear that he really isn't my boyfriend, and I don't even stalk him, I just try to keep up to date on how the Saints are doing this year. Which, BTW, they are 13-1!) (I just think that "my boyfriend Drew Brees" rolls off the tongue so easily. Let me put it on the record by saying that I know that he is married to his college sweetheart, her name is Brittany, and the only reason I know that is because they have their names on a building next to the football stadium.) (And yes, that does make me a little jealous that they have enough money to give to get their names on a building.) (And yes, I am happily married, and even if my boyfriend Drew Brees wanted to run away with me, I'd tell him no.)
I went to Purdue when Drew was there, and was only a year older than him, and we both were in the same school. I only saw him once or twice around Krannert, but it was awesome. And then there was this one time at my friend Tom's apartment, and he was in a hot tub, and I was standing outside the hot tub, and I think I said "hi." It was the. most. incredible. moment of my life. (except, you know, the obvious ones, like getting married and giving birth) Ironically, that was the same party where I was listening to a certain football jock (not Drew Brees) hit on a friend of mine. And he mentioned (or was bragging) that he was in the flight program at Purdue. And he was going on and on about how great it was to fly the jet. And he doesn't know that I know that flying the jet is for the best of the best in the flight program, and the reason I know this is because my dad had been a professor there for, oh about 30 years. And I was pretty impressed that this certain football jock was smart enough to fly the jet. And so I was like, "Oh hey, do you know so-and-so?" (you know, my dad) And this jock looks at me, and is like, "Yeah." And I'm like, "That's my dad!!" All excited that I made a connection with good-looking football jock. And then he turned around and walked away. WTF??!! Come to find out that Mr. Good-Looking-Football-Jock was just saying that he flew the jet, and he wasn't smart enough to do it, and I totally called him out on it without even knowing it. I totally ruined his game. Oops. Oh well, I guess that's what you get for being an asshole.
Anyway, so I had this dream about how Workaholic, being the awesome husband that he is, somehow set up a dinner with me and him and Drew and Brittany. And I was sooo excited for this dinner. And Drew and Brittany walk in, and sit down at our table, and have another couple with them...some other football guy and his wife or girlfriend or escort. And I was so nervous, I didn't say a thing the whole dinner, and all of Workaholic's effort's were in vain because I looked like a dumb ass. Looking back, I now know that I probably can thank the good-looking-asshole-football-jock for ruining my mojo. Even in my dreams. So long story short, Workaholic and me and Drew and Brittany are NOT best friends, but he is still "my boyfriend Drew Brees."