Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Mr. Sandman...
Instead of the cure for cancer or at least a brilliant way to fix my screenplay, I have been dreaming about Rachael's Idol chances. Two nights ago - Rachael went in and was not allowed to sing. They told her they already had someone of who fit her type. Luckily, aside from one weird earthquake thing in 1996, I have no psychic ability whatsoever.
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1 comment:
Is my "type" tall metallic wearing drink of water?
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