« You, Me, and Jesus Makes 3 | Main | Nice One, Buddy »
That's Twisted, Sister
Okay, so there's one thing I forgot to mention about last weekend.
On Saturday night, I had a dream. A really weird dream. I had a dream that I gave Pamela Anderson a blow job. And she was really well-endowed below the belt. We're totally getting it on, and for some reason I don't find it strange that a) I'm doing Pamela Anderson and b) she's got meat and two veg. Suddenly, someone bursts into the room. We're both startled. I grab her penis and toss it under the bed.
I've been trying to figure out what this means, and there are (I think) a few contributing factors to this oddball dream. First, last year for Halloween I was Pamela Anderson. (See below.) So maybe I'm just really attracted to myself.
Tommy and Pam before the breakup.
In addition to that, the part where I took her unit and tossed it aside may be related to this site that Mopsa showed me that's been giving me nightmares. I'll tell you what it is so that you can judge whether you really want to look at it or not: it's this company that makes dolls for you to...love. They have full skeletal systems (so you can, er, pose them in any way) and have skin made of super high-tech latex, like the kind they use for special effects in movies. Anyway, they recently came out with a male version of the doll. But, if you can't afford the $7,000 to get this guy, you can buy just his bits.
Only click here if you want to see creepy and expensive sex dolls.
Lastly, I think the fact that Tom's friend came into our hotel room on Saturday night after the wedding stinking drunk and repeating the word, "Thundercock!" as he relieved himself in the bathroom might have sent my mind in a weird direction.
But okay, fine. It's still a really creepy dream.
Posted November 21, 2002 11:31 PM | On This Day: 2005 2004
nice rack.
Yes, ma'am. I totally agree with Mopsa's argument.
Where's a coked-out Freud when you need one?
get to mass. hurry, quick before Tituba forces you to dance with the man from the woods!
sorry.
paraphrasing 'The Crucible' is lamer than I know.
but, yeah, nice rack. WAY nicer than my sister's. Be proud.
Damn.
I... gotta take a shower now.
Oh Lord. I'll have to wait and go to that website when I am at home later tonight. Checking it out at work just doesn't seem right. Besides, Meghan, your mother is coming over and we can look at it together!!!!!! She'll be thrilled you refered me. Reminds me of the time we sat together as young mothers and poured over the book "Diseases of Women" from 1925. University of California, Berkeley. Totally disgusting, yet so powerfully perverse we couldn't keep our eyes averted. Have a good day!
Somehow any lewd comment I was tempted to make just now was ruined by a message from your auntie mentioning your mother.
Thundercocks, HOOOOOO!!!!!
What can a mother say besides, "did this creature spring forth from someone else."
I pray my mom never reads anything I write. Nice costume, too bad you didn't run into Dr B Handler, Boobologist.
I totally take back the crack about your rack. With your mom here I do not want to be mentioning racks. Or cracks, for that matter. I wasn't even in this room.