As a general rule, my dreams suck.
I’m not talking about in the nightmarish sense that has me being stalked by some child molester with a striped sweater, bad nails and worse skin, but in the sense that while they’re vivid, they’re pretty mundane.
I’m the girl who once dreamed an entire episode of Wings from cold open to closing credits and once, had a dream about making a documentary about Bryan Adams.
So last night, I have this dream about Ron Livingston. For anyone else, something like this would be rated a hard R with serious moments of NC-17 action happening.
For me? Not so much.
Dream Ron Livingston comes to my house (sidebar: My dream house has the most amazingly comfortable couches) and he’s looking around, as people have a tendency to do when they come over to a new house and he points to a framed picture on my bookshelf.
I look at the picture and totally nonchalantly reply, “Oh, that’s my ex and his wife.”
The picture in question?
OK, this isn’t the exact image obviously, but a reasonable enough facsimile thereof.
What the what? When the hell did Augs become my ex and marry Kristen Bell and more importantly, why the hell do I have a framed picture of the happy couple in my home?!
Ron Livingston vanishes and I wake up confused and thoroughly irritated that Augs married someone else without giving me a heads-up.
I swear, I have the lamest dreams ever. Now, for no other reason than you probably Googled his name and are expecting some sort of eye candy — here you go. Any excuse, guys. Any excuse…