Last night I dreamt that Stephen Harper and I were hanging out on a lunch break in the CBC cafeteria on Queen Street. He was wearing an ill-fitting peach dress shirt, no tie. I was wearing denim cutoffs. I made a joke about my politics being a little... lefter... than his, and he smiled knowingly and nodded to a set of audio-recorders embedded in my left arm. He'd been listening to my subversive drivel for years. He said something along the lines of, "I know your politics. And they don't make a difference. Because I'm in charge. We should go out on a date sometime."
A) I need to stop running by the Right Honourable's house on my Wednesday tempo training sessions.
B) I need a break from reading the news and political science.
C) I think I have trust issues.
D) I'm ready to go home to B.C. now.
Lol, amazing.
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