My Id is Scaring Me, and More Deep Thoughts

So I'm about 5 or so weeks from my BAV anniversary. I don't actually subscribe to the notion that someone can be a virgin more than one time in their lives, but I know of no other succinct jargon that so politely conveys to others that I haven't gotten any in a long, long, loooooong time. So Saturday morning I awoke from a rather disturbing dream which involved yours truly cavorting (and fully enjoying the cavort) with one Rob Zombie. In an auto mechanics garage. (Fodder for Penthouse Forum...que verguenza!) Even though I'd met his "wife" in an earlier part of the dream, I still made out with him. Actually I've never met the woman I dreamt was his wife, and it wasn't Sheri Moon Zombie, the buxom blonde who was in both his horror flicks; Rob's wife in my dream was a dumpy brunette 'cause I can compete with that. (I know it's a dream, but I guess Rob Zombie wanting to make out w/me instead of a hot, busty, beautiful blonde is too unbelievable, even in my dreams.)

He was having someone custom-make a special ...uh...something for him, and much like in real life, my car kept having one thing after another needing repairs. Each time I went to the garage (which is a place I don't believe I've ever actually been to, nor were the mechanics familiar to me at all), there was Rob Zombie, checking on the progress of his project. On the fourth occasion, I asked the mechanic if it was tough having such a demanding customer in his shop every day, and he replied that Mr. Zombie was actually very patient, and only came in about twice a month or so; it was just a coincidence that each time my car broke, he too was in the shop.

I'm no longer clear on how the frolic began, but I remember that his kisses were pretty gross (cold and too wet) but the gratification happening below the belt made me realize that yicky kisses were a fair trade. Again, no one got nekkid, this was PG-13 (actually it was PG, but the adulterous aspect makes it PG-13 in my eyes) but waking up and realizing just how strapped I am for carnal attention was humbling and disturbing. (Distumbling?) Especially in light of the fact that I am not particularly attracted to Rob Zombie. Like his art, enjoy his music, and would love to pick his brain b/c of his extensive knowledge about the horror genre, but wanting to "run" my fingers through his 20 -yr-old dreads....not so much.

I got a new bed this weekend. I've upgraded from a queen to a king. A bit ironic since I've just relayed that my current bed is more than empty enough, and now I've got even more space to fill, but I digress. I was trying out different mattresses in the store, and I was being a bit silly (hey, I was excited to get a new bed!) and jumping atop all the different mattresses. Weeellll, I accidentally knocked over a statue-thingy (y'know how they try to create a faux bedroom in the hopes that they can also unload some of their bric-a-brac in addition to their furniture) but no one saw me do it, and I just picked it up and left it on the nightstand. I quickly walked away, but as I left the store I realized that THAT mattress was certainly the most comfortable; I just didn't want to go back to the scene of my crime. I still can't figure out if I'm just too Catholic for my own good, or if there truly is a lesson in there somewhere.