I listened to Marvin Gaye's, I Want You (http://www.yousendit.com/transfer.php?action=download&ufid=BD43CAA00B0181FF) about 10 times in a row this morning. I've heard that song countless times, but this morning I listened to it with my headphones. I heard more background voices and instruments than I ever remember hearing before. After I got over hearing all of that, I focused on the words to the song. This man was basically putting himself out there by not only admitting that he wanted this woman, but then he took it one step further by saying, I want you to want me too. That's vulnerability for your ass. That must have been one hell of a woman..the type of woman I have yet to hook up with. Because I'll be goddamned if I put myself out there like that only to have a woman say, "Thanks, but no thanks". Gold star for Marvin in that regard.

I had a dream about Christina Milian (http://www.stress.no/images/image_bann/christina_milian8.jpg) last night, and man was it a beautiful thing. Sex dreams for me are about as frequent as a clean drug test for Darryl Strawberry, so for me to have one about her was the hitting the jackpot son. I remember the initial insertion, but after the details were hazy. There are times during a dream, when I KNOW I'm dreaming, so I do all kinds of ridiculous things just to test my dream limits if you will. I swore last night's dream was real, until I woke up. I remember telling myself to play it cool, and act like I had been with a woman on this level before. The sad part is I could watch dirty movies all day and night, and have Christina on the brain 24/7, and I will NEVER have this kind of dream again. Cruel things these dreams are.

I also learned (once again) that khaki pants and urinals do NOT match. It's like walking around glass with bare feet hoping you can dodge the glass..eventually it will get you. I went to the urinal, did my business, I shook until everything it was empty, I dodged the post flush gush of water that came from the urinal, and I headed to the sink. At the sink, I turned the water on TOO high, and it spilled on the crotch of my khakis. So now all that beautiful handiwork I had done to avoid water, urine, and God knows what else was wasted, and when I stepped the bathroom walls, all anyone probably thought was, "Damn he peed on himself". That's not hot.