I was out with a friend last night and the topic turned inevitably to the Spitzer debacle. I know I spent the first part of last week calling this sad moron a consciousless douchebag but the more that comes out about this unfortunate situation, the more I pity the poor bastard. There's no way you spend $80 grand on escorts unless you have a serious problem with sex addiction. I don't care how good Kristen the hooker is. A vagina is a vagina is a vagina. I mean, what is the real difference between a $500/hr prostitute and a $2,000/hr prostitute? Would you be able to tell in a blind taste test? And anyway, Ms. Kristen can't be that good, she can't even spell. I went to her myspace page.
That said, I think Eliot needs help and I hope he gets it. Poor guy. And his even poorer wife.
So last night I'm sitting comfortably atop a barstool, legs crossed in their usual yogic pretzel-position. And I'm verbally spraying everyone within 5 feet with my supposedly unorthodox views about prostitution (which, it turns out, are not unorthodox at all, the more I talk to people). I think it should be legalized. Duh. This is a service which has been in feverishly high demand since the beginning of time, so obviously making it illegal doesn't make it go away. It's as popular as ever. Anyway, so we get into the whole juciy discussion about how the government can't regulate people's morals, though it always tries, etc.
So, all this stimulating talk aroused some pretty interesting dreaming last night at bedtime:
I'm in my high school talent show. (I should mention that I took a trip to my old high school on Saturday. A big, majestic private Catholic school complete with a nunnery on the top floor. So that brought up some weird shit, i guess.) So I'm in the talent show, and when the time comes for me to go on, I decide that instead of doing the interpretive dance i'd had planned, I am gonna do a provocative striptease. I peel off my clothes and get down to a heinous Fredericks Of Hollywood red and black see-through teddy reminiscent of Tim Curry's sweet transvestite. In the dream I have a totally ugly tattoo on my belly--I'm not sure what, but I am suddenly aware of its ugliness and am sorry that I got it and I look down at myself and it becomes very obvious that what I'm doing is insanely inappropriate and I feel like I've lost all credibility as a good Catholic girl.
Well, then I wake up.
What do you think this means?
The Blizzard of '17
5 days ago