Stop talkin', tighten your shock absorbers and get in.

After my run last night, I was feeling a little peckish and decided the Liberty salad courtesy of Escape from New York would suit me just fine. Deliciously stocked with artichoke hearts, fresh tomatoes and what appeared to be all of Northern California's onion supply, I happily chowed it down and then settled in for the insanely morbid premiere of The Riches



Who knew that in only a matter of hours, my life would be in danger? Thanks to the crap load of Allium Cepa in my din din, there was such a fire in my belly when I went to bed that it caused me to dream I was one of five people lured to an undisclosed location by two mad scientists who were hell bent on harvesting our organs. Then it kind of morphed into the Transformers because we all rearranged our molecular structure to become a parking garage and hide from the the evil creatons. Why a parking garage? I have no clue, but you cannot question the subconscious.

I'm glad to report that I did not wake up in a tub full of ice, and that the next time I order my tasty salad, I'll specify that I'd prefer it sans onions.