Hey Bill, if you're reading this, check it out -- I had this dream last night that we were hanging out on the L.E.S. and went to get some Chinese food. You wanted dim sum; I wanted to get some broccoli with garlic sauce, but the chef or whoever it was we were ordering from was like, "No! Dim sum only!" He explained that it was close to closing time and that he had all this dim sum that he had to get rid of, so dim sum was what I had to get. And you know, I'm not even a hundred percent sure what dim sum is -- I think it's this little pancake thing you use to wrap up some other food items -- but in my dream, dim sum was like millions of little bright pink shrimp with their shells on, and you'd just get this little wooden drawer full of them all neatly stacked in rows, and you just had to reach in and put a handful in your mouth. They were crunchy, on account of the shells, and had this vaguely stale taste, like an attic. Not unpleasant, but not pleasant, either.
Also you mentioned that Laura was hassling you for child support for this kid that you said you two'd never had. I asked whether you were going to try to prove that she was scamming you, but you were like, "No. She's got a paternity test that says it's mine." Oh.
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