I had a really strange dream about my dog, Benjamin.
In my dream I'm out walking down 6th street about to take a right onto Congress.
And walking towards me is a crowd of people, and amongs them is my dog.
And he doesn't see me, and so I'm like, "Why the fuck is my dog out on the street?"
And he walks into a bar. And I'm like, "Why is my dog going into that bar?"
So I was like, "I'm going to follow my dog."
So I kind of sneak in behind him.
And there's a bunch of stairs in the bar and I'm annoyed because I'm like, "Mother fucking dog doesn't walk up the stairs in my place!"
"He comes to this bar and he walks up just fine!"
Whatever! He goes up the stairs, he gets up to the top, and he jumps up onto a couch that's in the bar.
He starts, like, rubbing his face on the couch. And he is not allowed on my couch because I don't like him rubbing his fucking face on my couch.
I'm like, "That fucking asshole dog! He's rubbing his face on the couch here at the bar!"
And I ask the bartender like, "What's the deal with that dog? What's he doing here?" [Burnie] Like you didn't know him?
Yeah, and she's like, "Oh that dog? That dog always comes in here. That's what he does, he comes in here and rubs his face."
I'm like, "What the fuck is my dog doing?"
And so I say, "Benjamin!" And he, like, looks at me like, "Oh shit! I got caught!"
And I go over and pick him up and I'm like, "What the fuck are you doing in this bar?"
And I'm walking him out the door like, "I'm gonna take you back home, what the fuck is wrong with you?"
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