I took my wallet out and gave it to him. He demanded I empty my other pockets. I did, and showed him a cell phone. He wanted my cell phone. I refused to give it to him. I told him to just to take my wallet and go. He relentless in his demand, but I wouldn't concede. Eventually I got pissed off and threw my phone way up in the air across the street. He ran to go grab it and I ran after him. He still had the gun, but for some reason, our roles switched, and now I was chasing after him and he was actually running away from me. He got the phone and just ran. I gave chase. The fool was fast, but I was angry, and that anger fueled my haste in pursuit of this thug. I eventually caught up to him outside of a building. I kept yelling at him, give me my fucking cell phone back! You mother fucker! I wasn't even thinking about the fact that just moments earlier this guy had a gun. He must have forgotten as well, because he looked to be scared as hell.

Then I woke up and felt really good.

Now do I want a spider monkey from South America, or a Yunnan Golden Monkey from China? Looks like the Spider Monkey can slap harder. A sense of security is an important factor when picking the right monkey. I'm going with the Spider.

Time has a sick sense of humor. It likes to show me what I should've done two minutes too late-- As for two minutes earlier, God knows I wouldn’t have listened.

Nelson walks outside to do something, and he sees a small sign posted on the window of this bar. He comes back to tell me that this owner is charging 10,000% tip if people who pay by credit card do not write down a tip amount for their server. So the people who do not tip, like those drunks who sign off on their 8th shot of vodka, are screwed. A 4 dollar shot of vodka, means a $400 tip. I thought, dang, this guy's a crook. Gotta read the fine print.

INT. Restaurant, Larissa and I are eating dinner.

Suddenly she has to leave and go get a cake?! One second she's sitting in front of me, the next second, POOF! she's gone. Then I go to a dry cleaner

The Second dream. I was in Taiwan, mingling with my Taiwanese co-workers at some dinner party. We were exchanging gifts. I kept getting this one guy's name wrong. It was written down on a piece of paper, but I couldn't read one Chinese character. But eventually I got it, so it was no big deal. Afterwards, we all went to play basketball. For some reason, it was decided we would shoot for teams to play 2 on 2, even though there were 6 people who wanted to play. We could've just played 3 on 3. We're about to shoot for teams, and they're handing out these huge Nacho chips. They were the size of my head, except in the shape of Doritos. I knew they were regular nachos because there were no seasoning on them. So people got to the free throw line to shoot their Nachos. Two guys made their Nachos and the first team was formed. The guy before me shot and made his Nacho. I remember thinking, "I've got to get this guy on my team!!" I was handed a Nacho, except mine was broken. Instead of a regular triangular shaped Nacho, mine had major broken edges! I was upset, but I shot the Nacho anyway. I missed it. Boy was I pissed. I started walking away from the free throw line, but then I stopped. I said, "Give me another fucking chip damn it. All Y'all got good chips. My shit was broken." Yes, I used the word "All Y'all", it's because I'm a southerner. Some people snickered, but I didn't care. I wanted another Nacho shot. I remember thinking this second time around, "I better not miss this shot, all these bastards are watching." I shot my Nacho, but I shot it too far to the right. Oh no! I thought. But I shot it high, and it due to the shape of the Nacho, and some kind of physics mambo jumbo, it curved back to the left!! I made my shot. I was so happy.

Me: Hey, stop hitting me. Why do you keep hitting me?
Michael: Because...(Looking around, thinking real hard for a good reason) Because I want to.

Good enough for me. I couldn't argue with it, as he continued to punch me in the balls.