Last night, I dreamt that The Streets played a show in my house. After the show, Mike Skinner asked me for something to eat. I asked my mother if we had anything for Mike to eat and she told me there was spaghetti in the living room. I walked over to the living room and there were gigantic spaghetti noodles and sauce splattered all over the place. It looked like someone had heated a massive can of Chef Boyardee in a microwave, only the microwave was the living room of my house. I got a pot, picked a clump of gigantic spaghetti off a plastic bin and put it in the pot.

Then I woke up.

Anyone care to analyze that dream?


I was walking down the hallway and encountered an incredibly strong scent of cologne outside my little brother's room.

I asked my brother why the hallway smelled like cologne.

—Oh the book I was reading smelled really bad so I sprayed it with my bottle of Axe.


Last summer, Tim Castle visited my place in Los Angeles, and instead of taking showers, he would spray himself down every morning with a knock-off bottle of Axe.