Me and Moz.

Last night I dreamed I was locking up my bike in downtown San Francisco, when Morrissey stepped out of a Mini Cooper and onto the sidewalk next to me. I was wearing a West Ham shirt (dreams are soooo weird) and he got stoked, then asked me where to buy records at and if i could show him around. I told him Jello Biafra just dumped his record collection at City Lights Books and we should go there. He was excited b/c it meant he could also buy books of poetry as well as the new David Sedaris book. We get there and he's only interested in sketchy oi, and late 70s NYC punk, though he did give me the Stimulators EP he found, b/c he already had four of them. He refused to give me the Public Enemy (UK) LP, nor would he cough up the MITB/Crossed Out nine inch flexi picture disk, as he had been looking for it forever and only three copies are known to exist. I tried to trade him the box of Koro EPs I found, as well as the box of Copout EPs on hot pink. He started singing "I'mmmmm sooooo sorrry! Haha-hahaha"

Then we ate cheesesteaks and did body shots off loose women at the Condor.

The End.