I dreamed I was Carolina last night, and that El, Sands, and I were doing contract work in 1980s Belfast for this scarily intense IRA guy who looked a bit like Liam Neeson. Tragically, this dream did not include sex. Car bombs, yes, sex, no.

No, I don't know why we were in Northern Ireland instead of Mexico. I worry about my brain sometimes.

*sighs* And now I must go and work on my paper on Southern arguements in defence of slavery, and read more stuff about Japanese POW camps for my WWII paper. Have I mentioned how much I loathe writing research papers?

Fortunately, [livejournal.com profile] guede_mazaka has writen more Mexican Mobster Crack to cheer me up.
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