You know how it's 99% disgusting to throw-up? It stinks, burns, splashes everywhere, makes your eyes water, and cramps up your stomach muscles. BUT, there is the 1%. That far corner of your mind that you don't want to admit is there in the middle of your five alarm fire of hot mess. It is the part that is enjoying the vomiting process. Hopefully, my blog is that 1% .
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
I have been having some strange dreams lately. Most of them go as follows: as I am in the process of promoting a scantily clad woman to clad-less, I discover she has a curious deviancy IE, a pickle or a pickle and hot pocket (once, she had some form of a decorative body-quilt inlaid along her thighs and stomach that prevented access to her love closet). Here is the weird part, none of these accouterments has even remotely affected my performance (which many of you already know is topnotch). I've read where dreams are the unconscious mind’s way of relieving stress and I am used to the occasional odd event but –and I do not want to sound intolerant- I have less than zero desire to engage in a game of batter up. I mean it’s not like my dreams have me pursuing conquests with dudes. They are always smoking hot chicks but once naked I laugh to discover that I have been duped and figure what the hell, no one’s around anyway so.... I usually wake up before anything gets out of hand, lean over the side of bed and throw up on the carpet, sorry Dash (ruff!).