Last night I dreamed I was carrying Paul Walker's love child. Most unfortunately, I did not dream at all about the actual creation and conception. I don't remember much except that I was talking with Darla, telling her that I thought I was pregnant and worrying, since I knew it wasn't my boyfriend's baby. Ever helpful, Darla suggested doing an EPT to find out for certain if I was not only a cheatin' woman but a knocked up one at that.
In my dream, we were both freaked out when the test showed two pink lines. I assured her that Frank would understand why I had done it...after all, Paul Walker is nothing to kick out of bed. What was still troubling me was whether or not Frank would kick me out of his bed for being pregnant with Mr. Hotness' baby.
I woke up before any of the issues had been resolved, and before I could, in dreamland, confess to my boyfriend. So...Baby, I know it's a public venue to air my dirty laundry, but honey, this will be one gorgeous little bastard. And maybe Paul will want to play daddy a bit, hang around our house wearing only board shorts and chucking little Junior up in the air. It's all good.