The Brewcrew, Wolfmother and a fistfight

I was waiting in line to get into a Milwaukee Brewers game with my pal Louie when he starting arguing with a big jock-type guy over who was a better second baseman: The Dave Clark Five or Johnny from The Karate Kid.

Rather than try and talk sense into the two of them, I laid into the jock guy with a flying kick. He immediately went down and Louie and I began to pummel him with a series of punches and elbow drops.

We then tied him to a lamppost and followed up with a barrage of kicks to the face.

It was gruesome.

After the beat down, Louie and I went into the game and found our seats. We weren't seated for 2 minutes when my father came and grabbed me, "You're on in 1 minute!!" He yelled... "Let's go!!"

Having no idea what he was talking about I got up and followed him through a tunnel and onto a stage.

Next thing I knew, I was playing bass for the terrible band Wolfmother during the halftime performance (and yes, I'm well aware that there is no halftime in baseball).

We rocked through a few songs and the crowd was going nuts, which was weird considering the curtains never opened.

My dad peaked his head through the curtains to tell me that my vocals were bleeding... whatever the hell that means.

Weird.

Sumo wrestling rats

I was carnival sumo wrestling with a giant rat.

Weird.

Nikki Sixx, BMX and a Wal Mart cashier

I was living with Nikki Sixx somewhere in Los Angeles and our only means of transportation were a couple of totally sweet and magged-out BMX bikes.

We were cruising the Strip... Nikki had a girl in a Wal Mart uniform on his handlebars and I had two brown bagged 40s in my shirt pockets.

"We should get some druuuuuuuuuuugs," Nikki said to me.

"Drugs," I said, "Nah, man we got all this beer."

"Yea, you're right. Now get the fuck off my handlebars," Nikki said as he slammed on the brakes, throwing the Wal Mart girl face first on to the pavement.

The sun had just begun to set.

Weird.

Me, Alex P. Keaton and the Meathead Manager

I was hanging out in a kitchen with Kurt Vile's manager, whom I've never met in person and have no idea what he looks like... but in my dream he was a meathead.
We were talking about which episode of Family Ties was our favorite and how Alex P. Keaton was the only likable sitcom character of the 80s.

Weird.

A Shoulder Mounted Homefry Gun

I had a bazooka-type weapon but instead of firing bombs, it shot homefries.

Weird.

A Shotgun Wedding With Actual Shotguns

I was at a wedding that was taking place in a bait and tackle shop in the middle of the woods.

Everyone was in camouflage, including the bride and rather than an open bar, we were resigned to score cans of Bud Light out of vending machines. The top button made the machine shoot out a cold beer. The bottom button gave you a frozen bag of bait.

After much wedding merriment, I went outside to find my car (which was the van I used to drive in high school) only to find it occupied by my uncle Timmy and his black lab Ralph (who died about ten years ago).

"Let's do this," Timmy said as he cracked open two more cans of beer.

I hoped in, put the van in Drive and began to pull away when a police officer -- who looked eerily similar to my 6th grade math teacher -- emerged from the woods.

"Hey! Wait!" he yelled. "I need help!!"

I stopped to see what was wrong and he began clenching his chest like he was having a heart attack.

"I can't breathe!" he said. "Give me some fucking Pepto Bismol!"

I had a bottle of Pepto tablets in the cup holder so Timmy shook two out and I handed them to the cop. He then fainted and fell in a heaped pile into the side of the van.

Rather than throw him in the back with Ralph, Timmy and I decided it would suffice to throw him over the driver's side door (as one would with a wounded soldier over a horse's back) and "just drive real slow" as Timmy said.

Weird.