I’m going to let you in on a little secret: My friend Ted is never right. Chalk it up, write it down, remember it. When I told him that going to jail for your bro was “the dream,” I meant it. Ted, however, claims that I have called other things “the dream,” such as a cell phone made out of pretzels and chocolate, or a domesticated tauntaun butler, or a hot chick who loses her short term memory during your refractory period.
What Ted has failed to note though – because he is stupid – is that every time I’ve said, “that’s the dream,” it was all part of an ongoing string. Going to jail for your bro is just the tail end of the greatest dream ever dreamed.
The following is the definitive dream, which I deem the dreamiest. Dreamier even than Gosling, Tatum and Stinson stacked into one giant trench coat, posing as an astonishingly tall businessman. Now THAT’S the dream.
You wake up in the morning and start your day with a 24 hour dump. Dump Day. While that’s certainly a long time, you now no longer have to poop for an entire year. Because there’s no fear of dumping, your tauntaun butler helps dress you in a suit made of prosciutto so you can eat your way naked. On a full stomach, you travel via jet engine roller skates to a stadium where you enjoy a pack of lions fighting a Tyrannosaurus. Luckily, you’re enjoying this with some chick you just met, who as it turns out is rocking an amazing set of back boobs. After the tyrannosaurus and lions battle to a draw, you ditch Back Boobs and head outside to see a dog driving a motorcycle. How’d he get on there? How does he keep his tail out of the exhaust? Why did the human agree to sit in the sidecar? Nobody knows, but it’s awesome. When you get home, you open your globe bar where the earth has been replaced by a geographic representation of the Barnerian Empire and pour yourself a scotch using ice cubes made out of scotch, so when they melt, you just get more scotch. You settle in with your scotch on the scotch and turn on the TV to a channel that exclusively features elderly people trying to run through thunderstorms. After getting your fill of laughter for the year, you eat your cell phone made out of pretzels and chocolate for a snack, and then switch on some Olympic coverage, which now prominently features the Olympic sport of Laser Tag. You can’t watch for too long though because you have to try to hook up with a bunch of bridesmaids at your best bro’s wedding. By the way, did you know bridesmaid’s dresses have been replaced by yoga pants? On your way back from the wedding you swing by the Sorority Trampoline World Bounce Finals. Why? Because you’re the honorary judge at the Sorority Trampoline World Bounce Finals! For some reason they’re not letting you in though, so, quickly, Gosling, Tatum and you all pile into one giant trench coat, posing as an astonishingly tall businessman. You’re in! You award one of the contestants first place and she gives you your own special award, which you receive again after you discover she’s a hot chick who loses her short term memory during your refractory period. Unfortunately you can’t repeat this forever because you’ve got to race home for one magical night with Lily. Good thing you just had those mirrored carpets installed and had time to put in your contact lens high definition video camera. Uh oh!! Her husband Marshall found out! Holy cow, he raced over here on a flying carpet that uses only flatulence for propulsion and punched you in the face. Your neighbor called the cops! But you take the fall and go to jail for your bro. And that? That’s the dream. For now.