I Had a Dream, Dear

This is about the fifth weird dream I have had that is worthy of a Freudian post. See, I will tell it, and you will interpret it:

I am part of a two-man team that has been assigned to find a new Admiral for the Oregon Navy. The Governor did not like any of the obvious candidates -- Gordon "Sinksboats" Scullery and Ransom "Heave-Plenty" Capstan.

(Oregon does not have a navy. But neither does Nebraska.)

My superior is upstairs talking to the Governor when in walks this lady wearing jodhpurs, carrying a crop, and with high-top army boots. I say to my secretary, "And prithee, who is THAT?" He says, "THAT is Big Rear Admiral Josephine Navybrat. She is in charge of our wild horses program."

Hoss: "Has she ever been on a boat?"

Secretary: "Why I believe she owns one -- an 8-footer. I believe it's called a 'punt'."

(Now, you see, in real life Hoss would have said, "What the hell are we doing with a wild horses program?" And my secretary would have said something like, "Well, we don't have any boats, so it gives the employees something to do.")

I don't know if this dream means anything, but upon reflection it has the makings of a pretty good movie. Just think of it: Navy guys mounting horses. (Ho ho har de har har. I crack myself up.)

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So, this Avon lady enters the elevator and -- hoo boy -- she passes big gas. She is well-armed for the event: She opens her sample case and tries to spray away the odor.

Two floors up, a gentleman enters the car. She, confident that her spray job has done the trick, says to the guy, "Do you smell anything?" And he says, "Yes, it smells like somebody has crapped in a pine tree."

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My favorite word today is Moses. N., the wilderness guy. Def.: The travel agent who warns you about a foreign city's armpit to show you how valuable he is to have along.