Plus, No One Will Arrest Me For Stalking My Own Boyfriend

This morning I had several dreams in a row about wooing Gregory House, MD. In one of them, I tried to cook him dinner. In another one, I was trying to diagnose / cure some kind of disease he had. My favorite was the third one, though, where we just drove around in a car and I took a more subtle approach. You know, just talking to him about his life and trying to convince him that every other woman he's been with didn't deserve him.

(Hint: if a woman starts telling you about how everyone you've ever dated was a bitch, she's probably trying to get in your pants. Or, she just genuinely thinks you date bitches. In order to tell which it is, you should try making out with her. If she enjoys it, it was the former. If she's shocked, sorry about that.)

Now I can't stop thinking about House. I know he's not real and I'm crazy and all that, but WHATEVER. I should probably feel guilty about dreaming about House instead of Lee, but I can't control what my subconscious does. Plus, I'm 99% positive that Lee will one day be a slightly grizzled, misanthropic, middle-aged genius. So IN YOUR FACE, HATERS. I'm pretty much already dating House.