Pretty sure the phrase "realistic beard of flame retarded fibre" needs to come out of my mouth at least a few times a day more than it does now.

And also, the ruddiness is creeping me out. Looks like Santa's got psoriasis.

I could see myself stuck in that sixth wave. I'd be protesting the fur capes and the other ice queens would roll their eyes because "the fur thing is not what we are all about, here, right now."

That particular Michael Keaton always bothered me on some level. Dogberry. He looked like a crazy dude who licked dogs' fur, and lamented when it never tasted like berries.

Rodents chasing me-- that's the recurring theme in most of my nightmares. The worst one was when I was in elementary school and I dreamed a possum and a chipmunk followed me home from the bus stop, and I couldn't get into my house and they were coming closer, gnashing their teeth and I knew they were going to bite me so many times, I would probably die.

But my favorite (?) nightmare was when I was about 18. In the dream, my then-boyfriend and I are at Seaside Heights (NJ) and we go on a rickety old funhouse ride. But once we get inside the ride, the straps are way too tight, and as the train tracks take our little car down a steep drop. I hear people screaming and see piles of dead bodies off to the side, all with no hair. We are forced to ride through an acid mist and I feel my hair burning off my scalp. Then a bunch of Nazis come out, and grab my BF and drag him away for "hair conditioner experiments" and then another Nazi laughs at me and says I am going into the room labeled BRAIN SURGERY.

Nazis. I hate those guys.