If I Could FORRRRRGETTTTTTTT
I Wouldn't Be Having This Conversation With Myself,
And I Wouldn't Live In Fear Of A Potato Revolution.

Ok, so, seriously? If I was Julianne Moore and everyone, and when I say everyone I mean Gary Sinise, started telling me that I was crazy and my 9 year old child never existed, that he was a figment of my imagination? I would just go with it. It wouldn't take some freakish poor excuse for an alien guy shouting "You need to FORRRRRRGETTTTTTTTT" and tons of broken glass and people being sucked up into the sky right before my very eyes to make me say "Yeah, you know what, you're right, it really is unlikely that I would allow the burning hot seed of Anthony Edwards to be planted in my baby hole, even if I did have that dream that time about me being a prostitute and him paying me $2 for some lovin'. I think I'll not run around screaming SAMSAMSAMSAMSAM in the loudest, shrillest voice possible just in case SAMSAMSAMSAMSAM is not just an imaginary child, but an imaginary HEARING IMPAIRED child or, say, I don't know, a DOG and go to Vermont and make my own maple syrup instead." And that is all that I can say on that. Really.

Anyway. Back to my OhI'mjustpeelingpotatoeslalalaheywaitisthat?ohmygodthepotatoes!they'reALIVEandscreamingandPISSED dream now. Over and out.
WWDDLD?