First, there was me, wearing a Winnie-the-Pooh costume. It was full-fledged mascot territory, down to the armpit straps that keep the head on. I was too short, so I couldn't see really well, and damn! If I couldn't really see, how was I supposed to compete as Pooh Bear in the "Coalition of Obese Women's Synchronized Swimming," or COWSS, for short? It was 100 degrees outside, and I was thinking, "Man! I should have given the high-school mascot more props! This sucks!" As I wandered over to the wall, in which I would leap over and jump into the pool, I ran into the side--because of the lack of vision--and my sister laughed. Nice. But I was still thinking, "I'll be the best COWSS Winne-the-Pooh EVER! My mom will be so proud!"
No. I don't do drugs. But don't I have great dreams?