To Sir, With Love

I had a sex dream about Ben Kingsley.

It was a pretty ok sex dream. BK (dang, that makes me think of the creepy hamburger pimper; I won't use that in the rest of the story) was a little weird in what he was into. Not the weirdest thing I've ever experienced, in a dream or in actuality, but still weird enough that if I meet Ben Kingsley in person, I don't think I'll be able to talk to him without blushing.

It takes a lot to make me blush. I once blushed in a leather fetish store when I said to an employee "Sorry, I'm in your way." And he said, "You aren't sorry. You will be spanked." I just wasn't expecting that from a browsing experience. I wasn't even shopping. I was with a friend who was shopping for a skirt. I was totally the innocent party.

Anyway, Ben Kingsley wasn't so much into me as the totally awesome human being I am. He was nice and all, but I could have been anybody. I was just a mean to his ends with a scrub brush in the tub. I'm sure we've all felt like that at least twice, whether you were the scrubber or the scrubbee. It's ok if you're desperate I guess, but it's so much better if whoever you're with actually makes eye contact and talks to you rather than going all glazed over and mumbling "Get you washed, get you washed," to themselves.

I had another dream in which I was babysitting that guy Tucker's kid and there was a party and this guy I knew in high school showed up in drag. It wasn't fabulous drag, it was like "Mama's Family" drag. He had old lady shoes and a flowered dress on. Not a sequin in sight. There was some sort of misunderstanding with Mrs. Tucker in the dream. She was calling me and I didn't answer my phone, and she thought I wouldn't pick up for her, only Tucker, but that wasn't the deal. I just don't answer my phone in general, which you probably know if you've called me in the last 10 years or so. When I feel like answering, no one calls me. Crap, I forgot to call Jane back yesterday.

Anyway, there were tons of people at the dream party and I was dancing and trying to decide whether or not to sleep on this old brown velvet couch without being expressly invited or I should try to drive to Kerrville, which is the reverse of something I did in real life. I once drove from Kerrville to Austin to have dinner with Tucker, and I was so freakin' late and he was really pissed off but he didn't say anything and we still had a nice dinner at Houston's, even though we were like the last people allowed in to eat at a ridiculously late time for dinner. I got a ticket in Dripping Springs on the way.

Also, in the dream, we used my purse as a football, and now that I think about it, I don't think Tucker ever appeared in the dream. People just talked about him and it was his house and Mrs. Tucker was there and a bunch of other married with children types who weren't dancing or playing purse football. That was all the single people who crashed the party, including those in old lady drag. The MWCs were sitting around talking and drinking wine and I couldn't think of anything to say.

It would have been awesome if I could've taken Ben Kingsley as my date to the party dream.