Bastard In The Night

I was stranded in the suburbs - only the suburbs were at 45th and Lexington ( NYC )- and there was a train into the city at 48th. I was hanging out with some stoners and suddenly started going into labor. Somehow I knew the father of my child was the CEO of the company I work for - though I had no recollection of a prior romantic or sexual relationship.

This dream has happened before, as in reoccurring. Not the CEO love triangle , but the baby-pushing part. I never quite remember how I got pregnant - or how long I had been that way before the labor pains start. I'm sure there is some sort of dream interpretations book I could look all of this up in , but I'm sure it will say something like "the labor represents stress in your life". Understanding the meaning, however, takes the fun out of it - so I'm just gonna ride this dream wave and see what other weird places this REM surfboard carries me to.

So - I lay on a bed and the pains set in and I start screaming , then I pass out. I wake up and my mother is there handing me an infant - a boy - asking me how I got there and whose child it is. I can not say - either I'm not sure or afraid of the scandal that would erupt. I can never name the child and I always leave them. In this dream I handed the newborn to my mother and asked one of the stoners in the living room where the closest subway stop was to take me back to the city. I run out the door with blood and afterbirth still shooting out of me , but I figure in a place like this no one would really notice. On the train I act like nothing happened - and am still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle as to : how I got pregnant ? how long I had been that way ? and where the hell this train was taking me !?!?!

Note to self : should probably not have children.

Shrimp Scampi

My vagina looks like shrimp scampi. 

I felt like it was some sort of right of passage as a modern American woman - though I suppose the name "Brazilian" doesn't really constitute anything red white and blue.... maybe a little pink. 

Happy to say I didn't do it for a man - at least not directly.  Saturday is a photo shoot for my friend Daru's record cover and I have been told my wardrobe will consist solely of black electrical tape ( I say yes to everything ).  I figured it would be best to have a "clean slate" as it were - so the electrical tape didn't stick to any strays causing a painful disrobing.  

In retrospect , however, all I really did was beat myself to the punch by pulling those down-there hairs out before my costume could.  At least I own it.

On a pain scale ( 1- 10 ) I'd give it a 7 ... I've been through worse.  On a "weirdness" scale I'd say more like an 8.  On a HILARITY scale however - give that baby the big 10.  

Will someone please pass the tartar sauce.