Hurray for strange dreams.

So, I had a nifty dream last night.

It was great. I was wearing a men's dark grey pinstripe dress suit, black dress shoes, white collared shirt, a nice, subdued dark grey tie -- the whole bit.

Now, keep in mind that I'm a petite female who stands just under 5'8".

I had my breasts taped up with Ace bandages.

Oh, and, since it's been cold out recently, I had this really nice wool peacoat, a pair of leather gloves, and a wool scarf, pulled over my face.

I also had a short-haired black wig on.


Okay, fine. So I'm pretending to be a businessman, right?


Anyways, I walk into a bank, and I stroll up to the table where they keep the deposit slips and such. I pull out a withdrawl slip, write $500,000 in the space, and then, write -- in very neat block letters -- "The Gentleman Bankrobber" in the space provided for the signature.

I walk up to the window, and say, in the best Brittish accent I can, "Yes, hello, I'd like to make a withdrawl."

I slide the slip under the bullet-proof glass... then I pull a small pistol out of the coat pocket, and slam my elbow into the bullet-proof glass, knocking it out of it's casing -- and enabling me to get a clean shot, if I want it.

I scream, still in my Brittish accent, "Now, I'd like five hundred thousand dollars in unmarked hundred dollar bills. And if anyone calls the police, she will die."

They freak out, hand me my bag of cash, and I run.


The Gentleman Bankrobber becomes a sensation in the national newsmedia.