No, not the Romneys. These weren't any kind of Mormons, or anyway I assume not. Two guys came out of a house around the block from me dressed practically identically. Both were wearing white t-shirts and black shorts. The heavier one was also wearing a bandana of sorts, so maybe they were kamikaze Mormons. It was just weird. I mean, it hardly looked like a team's uniform. Maybe they were going to be waiting tables in a very hot place. Or maybe they really were very very sloppy Mormon missionaries. I know; it's nothing Earth-shattering; I just thought it was a little weird.
A lot weirder were my dreams last night, where somebody was trying (HARD) to shoot and kill me, and my brother William saved me using a ten-foot long taser. Go William! I'm about ready to let the nightmares go. I do notice that when I wake up from these (apart from usually having to pee) I seem to be frowning, and the fatigue in my facial muscles indicates that I've been frowning for some time. Maybe it's like the rule for marriage that you should never go to bed mad. Maybe I should never go to bed frowning. Perhaps this explains the draw of Johnny Carson for all those years. Just maybe.
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