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George brought home an absolutely fabulous pumpkin cream (sorry...'CREME', according to the packaging) cake last night. It was all sorts of autumn, cinnamon-y goodness. It was also, apparently, chock full o' ACID, because it destroyed my happy-happy-sleepy-time with the most heinous, bizarre dream I think I've ever had. And THAT is saying a LOT.
Join me as I share the 'effects' of said cake with George....
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Disclaimer: Okay, a) a friend suggested that the following dream should have at least a P.G. rating on it, so...if you're not an adult and... I dunno, teetering on the edge of SANITY, perhaps you shouldn't read it, because *I* am scarred by it and *I* am...well...I'm an ADULT, at least; b) George is from Boston. This point is somewhat relevant; Also, c) I understand that several portions of the following aren't exactly...P.C., but, in my defense, it was a pumpkin-and-quite-possibly-HEROIN-cake-induced dream that I really had no control over, so maybe....
Ah, hell. Whatever. It's a dream. It's fucked up. It's funny. Take it how ya will.
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From: Gracie
Date: 2006/10/17 Tue AM 11:04:26 EDT
To: George
Subject: oh...GOD
I almost had S.E.X. last night with a leather-clad midget AND a burn
victim who only had half a body.
the F*CK was in that CAKE?!?!?!
*********** REPLY SEPARATOR ***********
On 10/17/2006 at 11:52 AM George wrote:
WHAT?????
*********** REPLY SEPARATOR ***********
On 10/17/2006 at 11:52 AM Gracie wrote:
Totally messed up dream I had last night. VERY DISTURBING.
i'm thinking of posting it cause it's funny in a holy-crap-bizarre
way...but then again...maybe not. So here. I have to share with at least
SOMEONE and since I'm the beneficiary of so much of YOUR joy, here's some
o' mine! ;-p
And don't even THINK of not reading to the end. If I had to DREAM it? YOU
have to READ it.
In my dream, I'm a cop or some sort of authority figure. I get drunk at a
pancake house very late at night. I then decide it's a brilliant idea to
drive, because I'm tired and drunk on whiskey pancakes. I drive down a
long alley on my way to my police-house but it's more of a huge, war-games like
building and there are twists and turns and tunnels on this road and I'm
fish-tailing wildly and congratulating myself on how skillful I am that I
anticipated these slip-ups and turned the wheel each time, prior to the
swerve, saving myself and the car and won't my chief be oh-so-proud o' me? I then park and run toward the doorway (a long
plastic curtain, like in the grocery store, where the staff-only part of the store is
separated from the store 'proper' by those hanging plastic strips) and I have to run because, of course, it's
a dream, so that means someone is CHASING me and I'm running through this
building and it looks like a butcher's warehouse (the 'beefcake' irony is
not lost on me) and there are huge metal doors separating each room and
each of these doors has a white, oblong sign above it with black writing
and I'm becoming increasingly pissed off that I can't read most of them, but I know that they denote types of people
(German, southern, etc.) to 'have your way with' and rather than being
disturbed or worrying for my life due to being chased, I suddenly decide
I'm..."in the mood" and go running for the door that's marked 'Boston' but
all the guys in there are maaaaybe 18 years old and skinny and short and ...nerdy looking. Most of them are picking their noses, and they all look like [names from George's childhood] from that funny old picture
you've shown me before and that just doesn't ...do it for me tonight. Maybe due to the pancakes o' whiskey? WHO KNOWS? And besides,
all the girls on the planet are crammed in there, hitting on the guys, and
they're all much prettier than me, so I leave that room and as I'm walking
down the hall in search of a more suitable room, I notice an open door and
I gaze in and see... life's rejects. Several are maimed, some are exceptionally physically and mentally retarded, there is a group of proclaimed circus 'freaks' (according to the signs they were wearing) and I, of course, decide to enter THAT room. don't ask why, please. I
DON'T KNOW. and there are several beds in the room (as well as a fridge and
a poker table and a dingy light hanging down from the ceiling with no
cover) and on one of the beds (which, by the way, was covered in a
beautiful, white, lace eyelet type spread...the FUCK?? WHY did I notice
this??) sat a burn victim who had only stumps for hands and looked a LOT
like that burn victim guy in the 9/11 Pentagon show we watched the other night (except he wasn't Mexican...he was white and much older) and his body? ended at his penis. No
legs, no hips, nope...just his penis. And as I walked in, he was saying to
the other men in the room, matter of factly, "Nope, guys, Mr. Penis is
backwards today! See??" and then he leans sideways to display that his
penis is, in fact, backwards today and further drives his 'point' home by
swatting at it with his stumpy, skin-grafted arm stubs, and they all agree that
he will have to make some minor adjustments, since today was not a PLANNED
Backward Dick day.
god.
And I am actually considering DOING this guy (and PAYING for it) because
most people are so mean and they probably don't get a lot of business, and
why not be benevolent? but I'm concerned about how it will be done. Oh, but
not because his penis is BACKWARDS today, nope, it's because he has no
legs, so I will CLEARLY have to be on top and...well...that may be
difficult due to his...impediments. This is the point when a sprightly lil fella appears at my side.
He is a midget (I note this not because of his size, but because he cheerfully greets me with "HI! I'll be your MIDGET for the evening!") and I see that he is dressed head to toe in leather (except for his ass
cheeks, of course) but definitely has that odd leather hat we often see
Leather Men wearing with their ensembles, and he attempts to allay my fears
by talking Backwards Dick up to me. I assure him that I'm a-okay with the
guy, I'm just concerned about how to DO it and he says, in his helium
voice, "Not to worry, Missy! I'll be lowering you onto BBPD!" (Burned
Backward Penis Dude...he actually abbreviated it and then spelled it out)
and points up to a chain-like contraption, much like the jeep-top lift in the
garage. I am VERY worried about this because that thing alone is heavier
than him and I picture myself leaning forward in it and the midget being flung
to and fro and slamming into the wall in a splatter of leather. I say as much as I consider -and fondle- the chain
and try to gauge it's capacity, "...I ...dunno... I'm pretty heavy..." and
he feels that he can SHOW me why I shouldn't worry, but not by hooking
someone up to the contraption and lifting them, oh no, he decides it will
be much better if he walks over to a heavy naked guy in the room, has him
bend over, performs a couple of fake, manic thrusts and then SMACKS his ASS
a few times. Then he nods rapidly and raises his eyebrows up and down as if to say:
"Huh?? SEE??" and apparently this isn't so crazy, because I am now calmed
down and AGREE.
sorry . have to stop for a minute because I am laughing my ASS off here.
whew. okay. moving on
The little guy then tells me that I will be getting a two-fer because he finds
me just so damned irresistible and so they will BOTH be ...with me. I again voice
concern over how that will be done, because I will be, for all intents and
purposes, SWINGING myself onto the burn victim (please never let me type
these words in one sentence ever again) and, once again, he walks over and
swats fat guy on the naked ass and, once again (and inexplicably), I am
comforted and agree.
So I sit on the edge of the bed (still clothed) and
the midget and some other guy decide to give me a 'show' in case I'm
worried about their equipment (despite the fact that the other guy won't be
participating) and they turn out the lights, flick on a black light and hop
around (dancing gleefully, of course) in their underwear while wearing purple,
glow-in-the-dark PICTURES of futuristic, motorized penises taped to their
stomachs. I try not to laugh, mumble my praise and then the Little Person hops up on the bed,
tackling me, and yells out what a GUH-REEEEAT time we're going to have and I'm
suddenly alarmed because his voice goes up even higher when he's excited
and I worry that people walking by may hear his voice and think that HE'S
TOO YOUNG FOR ME and will storm in before I can finish and also may see my
ass in the swinging contraption and I just am not comfortable with the
angle at which they may see me n' my swingin' ass.
And then I wake up.
And I have NO idea how it ended.
See? what. THE FUCK. was in that gawdam pumpkin CAKE last night!??! Because I have
NO doubt that it was laced and that this is your fault.
....
...Okay...Please don't divorce me.
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George wouldn't speak to me after this for the longest time. When I was finally able to get him to talk again, all he would say was "No MORE CAKE FOR YOU!
....and he still won't look me in the eye....
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Someone Arrived Here Searching For....
them damn dogs
was lisa rayam a stripper?
how many tits does a female dog have
boobs christmas
bathroom pee sayings
ass slips
colonel sanders
george and gracie scripts [ohhhh, how I wish]
runaway bride bug eyes
"vaginal yeast infection in a dog" [oh, well. thank you VERY much for that. As though the ABOVE didn't scar me ENOUGH!]
would you like frys? [would you like DICTIONARY?]
used love as a weapon
what does a racoon sound like?
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