Mmm. Dreamy.

G'ah. I hate dreams where you wake up, all warm and fuzzy and loved, and know full well you haven't got a chance in hell of going back to that dream anytime soon. HATE IT. In the dream, I'm in a car with some dude who bears a striking resemblance to Jonathan Rhys Meyers [only... not. It's one of those things where your brain picks someone and basically says they'll replace 'im later when they've got the bug worked out.] and two other guys. It's some weird road trip that I didn't exactly sign up for and we're making a stop in some town where everyone else expects to party. Dreamy accent dude is stopping by a friend's place while we're in town and while everyone else is ready to go insane elsewhere, I'm tempted to go with cute accent.

Because, as an American, I am contractually obligated to love the accent. It's true. Look it up.

( Follow me for a visit with the SAtC girls, more dreamy accents, waxing perils, stalking, and possibly ending up dead in a bathtub, all warned off by Olivia )

Of course, now all I want to do is go back to sleep even though I'm not sleepy at all. Or shave my legs. Whichever.

I need a dreamy accented person to listen to. Even if it's just to hear the accent and there's no real dreamy aspect to it all, aside from the aspect. I miss K who used to work with me. She had a fantastic accent [and was funny and awesome to boot] and it meant that my days were just a little happier. Sigh. Or, y'know, I need someone with a dreamy accent I can make a fool of myself for. Or not with the fool, but you get the idea.