Why oh why didn't I take the blue pill

Today I got out running for the first time in about three weeks. The long delay was due to a week of spring break and later, a disease that I can only fairly characterize as SARS. I'm still on the fringe of the horrible phlegm-flinging disease, but I figured that warming up the body temperature by a degree or so would burn the remainder of the viri/bacterii out of my system. Essentially, the same strategy General Sherman used on his march through Georgia. It's worked in the past, so we'll see if I finally wake up completely healthy tomorrow.

I'm sitting around, preparing for an upcoming negotiation and listening once again to the Bee Gees. It's really hard to get over how hard the Bee Gees kick ass. As a tribute, I've already pledged to name my first born son "Barry Gibb Utah," and if it's a girl, "Robin Gibb Utah." The thirdborn will have to settle for "Maurice Gibb Utah."

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*As you may notice, I deleted a significant portion of this post. I did so because while it may be entertaining, this story is best saved for a smaller, identifiable group of people who won't immediately assume I'm actually a robot programmed solely to awkwardly react to the subject of a very vivid dream. But I thought it was kind of funny.

So in sum, the Bee Gees kick ass.