I still have nothing to talk about. I wish Bonnie Raitt was here so she could give me something to talk about. I've been sleeping a lot lately, which has made for some weird ass dreams. There was one where I was kidnapped by this Victorian family that turned out to be a bunch of cannibals. They were all dressed up in these big fancy dresses and suits, but they were totally fucking crazy and kept eating each other. I eventually escaped. I forget exactly how.

OK. I'll talk about dreams.

There was a period of my life where every night there was a celebrity in my dreams. One of my favorites was when I went bowling with the Beastie Boys. MCA is a really cool guy, at least in dream form. And Mike D is an excellent bowler. There was some random guy in the bowling alley who kept trying to impress the Beastie Boys by playing License to Ill on the jukebox. We all concluded that guy was incredibly lame.

Another favorite was when I had dinner at Tony Danza's house. We, of course, had pasta. I don't really remember much of it, except tomato sauce was everywhere and Tony Danza's mom was insane.

I should start a gossip column, based solely on my dreams. "And rumor has it, Jennifer Aniston absolutely loves having sex with me, and she thinks Brad Pitt is a gigantic fag!"

My favorite dream of all time has to be one I had with OJ Simpson. It happened during the trial (OJ's trial, in case you were thinking it was recently during the shoe-bomber trial).

In the dream I was watching the trial on TV (even in my dreams I watch too much TV) and right in the middle of it, OJ stands up and yells out, "That's it! I did it! I'm guilty! I killed my wife!" So everyone gets really happy that the trial is finally over and they all start dancing. Judge Ito and Marcia Clark are doing a jig. But what no one notices is that while the celebration is going on, OJ slips out the side door. No one notices... except me!

All of the sudden I am sitting in my car in these woods that are near my house (whoever was in charge of continuity in my dream did not do a very good job). I see OJ Simpson talking to some guy, except OJ has turned into my cat, but it is still OJ, get it? And the thing is, I know it's OJ, and he knows that I know it's him and he sees me. So he walks over to me and jumps on my car door (the window was down). He starts telling me what's going on, and he says he really needs me to help him out and not tell anyone about where he is. So me, being amazed at the fact that I am getting the chance to meet OJ Simpson, while at the same time, my fucking cat is talking to me, I say, "Yeah, sure OJ. No problem."

Then I think, Wait a second. I can't let him do this. That's OJ right there and he is guilty of killing two people. I can not let a murderer go free. So I deduce the following (that's right... I deduced this. I deduced the shit out of it.) -- There is OJ Simpson crossed with my cat, possibly two of the stupidest beings on the face of the earth. So I say, "Hey Sam, er, I mean OJ. Come here. I'll help you get away." He jumps in my car and I start driving him to the police station. Then the dream all of the sudden turned into another dream that I won't detail here. But I'm assuming that I did the right thing and eventually got OJ to the cops, and he is now serving nine life sentences in the Middletown jail as a cat. Why nine life sentences, you ask? Because he's a cat, you fucking jagoff. They get nine lives. Don't question me.

Just kidding. You are not a jagoff. I don't even know what that is. I just like that way it sounds. Jagoff.