Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Dream a little dream of me...

Sorry, baby: Not. Even. One.

Last night I dreamt of Joe the Plumber, er, I mean "fucker".
I dreamt I shared a whiskey with Obama post victory.
There was the one about work when all those moms died.
Many (too many, really, for fucks sake) about Chris leaving me.

But not a single slumber-fueled-film about the baby. It feels odd to me, bad even. Odder and badder than I have been able to admit, in fact.

So, kid, do your mom a solid AND COME OUT ALREADY! Show me that you're alright and the reason I don't need to dream about you is because there's nothing to worry about, k?

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