Don't you wish you had dreams like me?

The Scene: A fancy dinner party. Mingling guests munching Hors d'oeuvres and drinking champagne out of those thin weird glasses that make you look like an alcoholic when you have to drink the last bit. And cheese. Lots of cheese. A conversation ensues:

ME: Hi. I'm Anthony, I couldn't help but notice your jeans.

REMSEN: I'm Michael Remsen.

ME: Of the "Premium Remsen Low Rise Straight"?

REMSEN: The same.

ME: It's an honor to meet you. I was just talking to Baxter...

REMSEN: ...the "Baxter Low Rise Slim Boot". Hack.

ME: That's what I told him. I said, 'Your cliche'd faded legs are so ... out right now.'

REMSEN: Nice. What did he say?

ME: Oh, like he never heard of Remsen. I said, 'You couldn't tear a pair of jeans for Remsen!'

REMSEN: Then I bet he went into that whole bit about 'I was tearing jeans when you were suckling your mother's teat!' thing, right?

ME: So totally.

REMSEN: Call me a 'teat sucker' will he?

ME: What are you gonna do?

REMSEN: I'm gonna tear him a new one.

Then I woke up.