I had a dream the other night. I dreamt about Tony Pierce.
Not about his blogging or any of the crazy stories he writes or about anything in those stories – just Tony.
He held my hand and we wandered around Stanley Park on a gorgeous, sunny day (which we seem to be sorely lacking around here), and he whispered sweet, rambling nothings in my ear the whole way – it was like a busblog audioblog to the nth degree. And even though he’s 111 years old, and I have trouble relating to anyone much over 30, we practically read eachother’s minds.
Then we ate ice cream, and he said “No wonder Miss Canada is Miss Universe, Canadian girls are the most beautiful girls in the world.”
And then he linked to me.
And then I woke up.