Apparently there really is a Boom Boom Room and I was pretty sure the cat was trying to murder me.

Ever have certain dreams and then you wake up pissed off at someone for doing some fool thing in your dream? Even though you KNOW you only dreamed it? I had a fun one of those the other night.

Patrick and I were walking along and he kept trying to tell me about this stupid adventure he had with whores and booze in some pesthole called the Boom Boom Room.

Dream Patrick: It was so fun, I was with these other guys and this woman and blah blah blah
Dream Me: Knock it off.
Dream Patrick: No, I have to tell you! There were disco lights and (etc...)
Dream Me: Quit it.
Dream Patrick: It was at the Boom Boom Room and there were all these tassles...
Dream Me: STOP TELLING ME YOUR HEINOUS STORY.

So yeah I woke up irritated that he kept trying to tell me about his nasty little excursion somewhere. I told him all about it, and he was compelled to look up the Boom Boom Room to see if it was a real thing. Not only is it a real thing, there are about 40 of them scattered around the U.S. I have no idea what was going on there. This led to the conversation ending with, "So far today we've learned that I didn't actually go to the Boom Boom Room at midnight with a bunch of booze and whores, and you hate nasal spray."

The nasal spray was a whole other thing. I cannot abide that crap. It tastes like aerosolized bad and makes your sinuses burn like you were just dunked in a bucket of chlorine from hell. Plus it makes your snot congeal into awful ropes. So no, just no. Evidently I went on a whole tear about how much I hate it when I woke up that morning. I blame the Boom Boom Room dream leftovers. One cannot be expected to function normally after that sort of conversation.

This morning I woke up to a really weird sensation: I had a sleeping mask on, and something covered in fur was rhythmically banging on it. I kind of lurched my face over and yanked out an earplug:

Me: What the hell is happening on my face?
Patrick: Oh yeah, Gurgles really doesn't like you. (There was sarcasm here I was too groggy to pick up on.)
Me: Is he trying to smother me?! I have this vision of Gurgles kneading softly on my mask while whispering "Die...."
Patrick: No, he just completely jumped over me to get to you. I'd say you were wrong about him hating you.
Me: Why is he on my head?
Patrick: I think he really likes your sleeping mask. He seems to be trying to make biscuits out of it.
Me: Oh. Can you pull him off? This is disturbing.