I think all this Hotline Miami fan art
has gone to my head, because I've been having some seriously fucked up dreams lately.
The first took place on Wednesday night. I dreamt that I was hanging out with Good Guy Greg
when he began choking on something. A few of us lined up and started slapping him, Airplane
-style, trying to get him to shut the fuck up so we could continue playing poker (note: I just now realized we were playing poker), when finally someone stepped up who had seen a TV show in his life and performed the Heimlich maneuver.
What came out was a bloodied, severed penis.
The latest dream was from last night, where I was sitting in a bar with Conor Elsea and a bunch of random people, and we had just found out that our team had lost Road Rules. (Is Road Rules even something that you win or lose as a team? I have no idea. I bet this guy does
.) Anyway, I went to the bathroom, and when I came out everyone in the bar was gone so I headed to my car.
That's when Samit Sarkar appeared and started shooting at me. Motherfucker couldn't hit shit.
Really looking forward to tonight. I'll keep you updated.