1. 7-year-old daughter (the Who Dat formerly known as Super Saint Girl) wakes up this morning just after 7 a.m.
"Chef, I had a nightmare."
"I'm sorry, baby. You okay?"
"Yeah, because I told all the robbers I would give them copies of my Sean Payton autograph."
"Sean Payton. In my dream. He was driving a red car down our street with Drew Brees. I ran out and yelled, 'Stop!' And then I got his autograph on a white paper. Drew Brees too. But then a bunch of robbers chased me inside the house. I locked the door quick. And I told them to go away, but they all wanted my Sean Payton autograph. So I told them I had a scanner and I would scan the autograph and make them all copies. Then I did. And they all left."
2. A few minutes after 8 a.m., the phone rings. It's a legal representative of the National Football League. They inform me that my daughter has been issued a cease and desist for unlicensed use of a trademarked dream.
Bastards. We are who we think we are. Sinn Fein.