I've been eating like I'm going to the chair.
I've been having the weirdest dreams lately. Weird dreams. Kissy dreams. On Thursday I dreamt that I was living in LA with Seth Green (we had a very cool car and the weather was fine) and last night I subconsciously snogged Mo Rocca and Santino from Project Runway. (Mo, by the way? Surprisingly skilled.) I'm sure the dreams had nothing to do with eating a bag of Stacy's Pita Chips and a bowl of cereal at 11:30 at night. Maybe I need to stop watching so much damn TV. (Don't get me started on how self-conscious it makes me about my unbleached teeth.)
posted by Ali @ 9:49 AM
9 Comments:
Surprisingly?
Bitch.
I love you Mo!! Remember that time we totally connected at the Tom Wolfe party?
I thought it was eating cheese that makes a person have strange dreams.
I still keep dreaming about clients from my last job, and it is REALLY getting on my nerves.
ktbuffy...Were you the guy who was sloppy drunk on appletinis and kept calling me Ro Mocca all night?
Close, actually it was Georgetown Prep (class of '87. Social Secutriy, anyone?).
kt...sorry about the guy thing. I was up late the other night. Had to take in one of my chia pets to the vet to have it put down. Complications from diabetes, I'm afraid. I knew I shouldn't have been giving it all of that sugar water, but whenever it had that look in its eyes...how could I say no?
Anyway...if those are your legs in the picture, would you mind coming over to my place to lean over? I could scatter things around for you to pick up...a magazine, a spare pair of my glasses, maybe a DVD of my highly successful Wishbone series?
And if you're ever near A Salt and Battery (on Greenwich between 12th and 13th), look for me. I try to treat myself to a fried Mars bar (yes, a fried Mars bar) about two or three times a week, usually around lunch.
Those appletinis will be my downfall indeed. But it was the only way I was ever going to get up the nerve to ask Tom Wolfe if he had another white suit under his usual one, in case he got spilled on or something.
Oh, Mo, Mo, Mo... though the fried Mars bars are compelling, my lunches are usually all the way uptown! I think I'm going to need some other form of inducement to come down, meet you, and pick things up around your apartment. Also, I don't do windows.
Maybe your subconscious is trying to get your husband's subconscious back for all the dreams he's been having about doing it with...
Sorry, I promised not to tell.
Oh, Mo? That's not some reference to me being gay, is it? Because I can totally rock your world.
I'd get you back to my place and, after showing you my collection of Victorian buttons, I'd lead you back to my couch. We'd neatly stack the coordinating pillows under the window with my new swag from Home Works. It is amazing! It really makes the whole wall pop. Anyway, so we're back on the couch, and I turn on a little ABBA, and we just let the music and the appletinis take us wherever we want to go.
(And I like to watch gladiator movies while making love. That won't bother you will it?)
Because I talk in my sleep, many of my past roommates have told me that I frequently have erotic dreams, but they're wrong; in fact, I'm sure they're all wet.
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