.My Brain Is A Scary, Scary Place Sometimes. (I've already relayed this story to Kevin and he hasn't called the police. Or the Secret Service. Or the insane asylum. So I'm sharing it with you, because I do love publicly embarrassing myself.)

I don't usually get into the "Dood, I have to tell you about this dream I had last night," posts,
but doods, I have to tell you about this dream I had last night.

Kevin Charnas and I decided to go to a conference, being held on a very Ivy League-ish
college campus.  No idea what the conference was about, but we were going and rooming
together. While we were there, Kevin decided to run for President (it could happen).  But
he also decided that he didn't want the whole world torealize he were gay - even though,
while at said conference, he was snogging men and not trying to hide anything.  So, he
asked me to leave my husband and kids and marry him.

And I said sure.

And so we went thru this long, weird, vaguely American Gladiator-esque thing where we
had to bash people with foam bats (wearing matching cargo shorts and Grateful Dead t-shirts)
and perform our favourite songs from Broadway shows and give each other makeovers.

(Which would be just fine with me - for years, I've had a bit of a girl crush on Donna Reed.)

And Kevin dressed like this:

(Although often sans jacket and tie, shirtsleeves rolled up, top button undone, to indicate his willingness to get to work. Or maybe he was just warm. But whatever. Cary Grant. Mmmmm.)

I fell over a lot.

Kevin, ever the considerate fellow, was always making sure we had food available.  And
we both seemed to think that this was completely normal and what politicians did when
they were running for office.  This dreamwent on all. night. long.  We were followed by
paparazzi constantly, most of them taking pictures of me as I fell on my fat arse.


See?  Am fucked up.