My Whole Life Needs a NDA

I was working over-time in this huge corporate building for this really sleazy company under a boss I hate. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I royally embarrassed myself explaining that my ethics would no longer allow me to commit to this type of environment. I was fired on the spot in front of everyone in a rather explosive scene. I was told to go downstairs to the lobby to wait for my things to be brought to me. In the lobby, I met Stephen Colbert which was so exciting, I forgot I was just fired.  

Stephen was observing a desert terrarium which contained starving and sun-burned piglet crawling pathetically towards a bowl of milk. Stephen cackled at it and remarked something about nature and science and survival of the fittest. I started to cry. Stephen laughed at me and then kissed me passionately. I was too stunned to file a sexual harassment charge. Then security threw me out. But unbeknownst to them I smuggled out a baby pig from a crate that had just arrived, presumably to be submitted to the same torture as the poor soul in the terrarium.

Trudging home through an unfamiliar neighborhood with my new hungry baby pig, I stumbled upon a chain-smoking, emaciated Mathew Perry who listened to my plight and told me he could get me my job back if I helped him pull off a scheme. I was to pretend I was an actress from Game of Thrones so he could dupe his hot neighbor into baking for him. I assumed he was high but agreed to go along with it. We had to seal the deal like a demon's deal (like ya do.) He blew smoke into my mouth and kissed me until I choked on the smoke. I remarked that Stephen Colbert was a better kisser. This kind of pissed Mathew Perry off, but seemed to make him more determined in his plan.

Somehow we conned our way into his neighbor's apartment and convinced her to not only feed my piggie but to bake us the best cake in the world. I spent the rest of the evening trying to convince them that they had not seen my boobs on Game of Thrones, and despite what the neighbor's daughter had accused me of, I never made fun of her because she didn't need a bra and it was not some plot for world domination on my part.

And the moral of the story is: No more burritos and beer before bedtime.
My sleeping brain is fucked up place, you guys.


OK. That dream is still bthering me. It's been all day and it's still creeping me out! I need a palette cleanser: