Diddy

I went to a baby shower last week for one of my good friends. I’m so excited for them. It’s their first child, and they are one of those couples that you just KNOW are going to be great parents.  For their shower, I got their future son an array of Ralph Lauren monogrammed blue and orange tailgating outfits that he can wear while he watches, alongside his UVA alumni parents, the Cavaliers lose at every widely-accepted sporting event known to man.  (Yes – it was hard to purchase those hideous colors, but one more UVA fan is not going to help them win, so I did it anyway… not to mention that orange and maroon is unfortunately not an option at Ralph Lauren, which is completely ridiculous.  Although this makes sense, since Ralph doesn’t strike me as a real sporty fellow). Anyway, with all of this baby talk, you can imagine what I would dream about…

P.Diddy. Seriously…P. Diddy.  My dreams had nothing to do with babies at all. I just wanted to take a jab at UVA this morning when I was writing my blog (I think I may be feeling a little guilty about my UVA colored purchase or something).  Anyway, back to P. Diddy (or actually, it’s just “Diddy” now… I’ve been keeping up through my E! Online/TMZ news. Personally I think this is a vast improvement since his Puff Daddy days. I mean, really? Puff Daddy? That’s sounds stupid).  Anyway, apparently I needed a ride home and out of nowhere, Kanye West and Diddy offered me one.  Kanye was the driver, and Diddy and I were in the back seat chatting it up the whole time.  Kanye really didn’t say much (he’s apparently learned his lesson about the whole interrupting thing).  On the way home, we passed Diddy’s house, which for some reason, was a white shack with ugly blue shutters.  I cannot, for the life of me, figure this one out.  I mean, I’m a HUGE music fan. I listen to everything. But when I was scanning my music collection this morning, I realized that I don’t really have very many Diddy songs (except the collaborations with B.I.G., MA$E’s Harlem World CD, and the remake of “I’ll be Missing You”). So it’s not like I was listening to him on my hour drive home from work and thus dreamt about him.  It’s a mystery. 

What’s not a mystery, however, is why I dreamt that they gave me a ride home.  I was on my way to work one morning last week in my normal morning daze, and felt the eyes of a neighbor driver in the other lane.  He had a pretty horrified look on his face, and I got pretty defensive about it. (I mean, I WAS running a little late, so I did just throw on an outfit that probably didn’t match, and I doubt that my hair was in that great of shape, but really, I don’t think that justified his horrified look).  A few minutes later, we’re still traveling next to each other, and I realized why he gave such a glare. It had probably been about 10 minutes since my hands had come anywhere close to touching the steering wheel.  I was deep in thought while I was driving to work, so my arms had literally been crossed against my chest the entire time.  Little did the guy know that I’m very experienced at driving with my knees, but I think his look probably kicked off the reasoning behind the dream.  He obviously didn’t want me to drive, and neither did Kayne or Diddy.