I hate dreams that feel real, and that you want to be real.

But they’re not.

So today at work a young woman came in wearing a Dalek teeshirt.

Obviously I complimented her on the shirt, and shot the Doctor Who related shit for a few brief minutes, before another associate helped her with finalizing her choice of glasses.

Afterwards said associate told me I should’ve flirted with the customer, since we had a similar interested.

And I felt really awkward.

Night blogging has finished.
But the attitude associated with it lives on.

Yo life

“Hey dude, want to go to a party later?”

“Black Ops”