I had the weirdest dream the other night. I can’t quite piece it back together, but it had something to do with shopping for Misfits memorabilia, and Barry Manilow was somehow involved — like, maybe he was singing about being a misfit himself? That feels accurate, even if all the other details are fuzzy.
I woke up baffled but amused at the outrageous shit my subconscious comes up with, then went about my normal morning routine of chugging coffee, catching up on my favorite online comics, and eventually checking my email. And that’s where I discovered the following:
I don’t really know what else to say about this situation, other than thank the Gods Pre-Sobriety Me wasn’t a blackout drinker and never had disposable income.
PS: The Manilow quote in question is, “Misfits aren’t misfits to other misfits.” I’m going to go ahead and snag that as my new philosophy.