Folks,

Perhaps it's the stress, maybe it's the alcohol, or quite possibly it's the constant voice in my head commanding me to make these diary entries worthy of your pity... Whatever it is, I have been having some funky dreams lately. Now some of you may be thinking "Joe, anyone who thinks their dreams are actually interesting to anyone other than themselves are not only delusional but probably self-centered egotistical jerk-offs as well." And while that's certainly true, I have nothing else to talk about so deal with it!

Anyway, last night I had a dream that I was in an arcade with the very handsome Pete Galea, the flashy Sean "P-Diddy" Combs and the...um...robust Phil Mickelson. Anyway, somehow we split into two groups and started playing adjacent games. I got stuck with Puffy playing a basketball game and Pete was with Phil playing a golf game. I was mad about this because I knew I had more in common with Phil and definitely am far better at golf games than their basketball equivalents. But, being the sportsmanlike person I am (Ed. note - Not true by any stretch of the imagination. Joe has been known to throw lawn furniture and bricks after bad wiffleball losses) I settled in for some BBall. But get this, Puff is a nasty cheater. He kept hitting buttons on my controller and blocking my eyes with his bling bling. I was pissed.

Finally, I had to quit because Diddy was just becoming too much to handle. I went over to Pete and Phil looking to get in on the golf, but despite Phil's eagerness to add a third, Pete emphatically said no. I was pissed. Then I turned around and was about to make out with Heidi Klum but she turned into a bird or something and then I was falling down stairs and I woke up.

Needless to say, I was pissed.

Lessons learned? Don't play dream video games with P-Diddy, Phil Mickelson is a nice guy with no spine and Pete is an uncharitable bastard dream friend.