Orally copulated at the gym?

I just remembered that maybe last week I had a dream that I was going back to Las Vegas with my old college roommate, Brian, also known as B-Dogg (not to be confused with the Brian formerly known as Brian at the GNC, nor Brian at the gym, nor Brandon's friend Brian at the PWG shows). But I can no longer remember the fragments of the dream. That happens sometimes.

The treadmill at the gym says I burned 356.3 calories at a distance of 3.07 miles over half an hour, but that could be a ballpark figure.

Anyway, the gym has the best innuendoes: Afterward, I was stretching on my back. This wavy-haired blond, white chick dressed all in black - shorts and tanktop - was also stretching, but on her knees and face down. This was purely a coincidence, but she was stretching in front of me with the top of her head pointed toward my legs that when I looked between my legs at her, it gave the illusion that she was orally copulating me! I hadn't had this much "action" in the gym since that one illusion of me and that one chick in a position that Cosmopolitan calls the "Time Bomb" while the gym played AC/DC's Shook Me All Night Long. (See entry 8/24/11.)

And Allie, who works at the front desk, is renewed in my database.

I fired up the porn and busted a #3 to that chick from the PWG shows who remarked that I'm usually at the Taco Truck during intermission at the same time as her. (See entry 9/10/11.)

At the mall, I was able to spot my stalker at Hot Topic ahead of time before she could spot me. I avoided eye contact as I walked by her, my sixth sense feeling her gaze undressing me the whole time.

At Barnes & Noble, I've been noticing this chick since last week who works at the advertising department for those electronic "Nook" whatever-they're-called things. She usually rocks the geek chick glasses. She looks like a light-skinned half-African, but then I overheard her speaking fluent Spanish. She's one of the ambiguous ones. Once she tried to gel back her short orange-brown hair and it looked weird. Finally, tonight I was able to read her name tag as she walked by while I was sitting in those comfy chairs. It's "Monica." I can now scream it out when I'm all alone.

I finally bought something, perhaps for the first time. I bought "Spark Charts" for Film Studies, Contracts and Resumes & Cover Letters. The cashier was named Anita. I think she tried to help me once before when I was looking for the hardcover of Neil Gaiman's American Gods to finish it. She's a white chick with long, dark brown hair that would've been jackoffable if only there wasn't something weird about her upper lip. Oh, well. Perhaps beer-goggles-worthy. Maybe.