A smutty little poem that got its start in a smutty little email:

Adult Admission

Here he comes
at last
looking for
a little of my time
I tell him Honey
the happiest place on earth
ain't in Anaheim
And if you want to ride
you'd better get in line
because there is no Fast Pass
to this Pleasure Ground of mine

And then there's this nightmare I had last night. I know AJ says not to talk about my dumb dreams unless there's sex. And there's no sex in this one. But there are baby platypuses! If you want to be subjected to the bizarreness, click below.

I had a nightmare last night. I think it stemmed from a conversation I'd had earlier in the evening where I said I was afraid to be a mother because of all the ways I'm sure I'll fuck a kid up.

So, back to the nightmare. I had a baby. Well, that wasn't all. I didn't watch the baby very well, I guess, because every time I turned around it was crawling away from me, into some precarious situation, with its poopy diaper hanging down around its bottom. I tried to keep it from tottering away, but it was no use. It wandered through a pile of debris that had been swept up in the entryway, and ate a handful of tiny broken glass shards, hair, and dust. Then it started to throw up. A lot. I tried to hold its tiny head and soothe it while I held it over the sink. My mother came in to help. Then someone came and took the baby from her, a man in a suit. They said I wasn't a fit mother. I asked them who had made it their business the way I was raising my child. But they didn't answer. They just swaddled my baby (which, by the way was tiny, like a doll) in a blanket and walked away without even acknowledging me.

Then I was enraged. I glanced at my mother. She had a guilty sort of expression on her face. I immediately assumed she'd called the baby-removal taskforce and raged, "It's MY FUCKING BABY!" Simultaneously, I felt a warm cloth pulled around my shoulders, binding me. A straightjacket. I looked up and saw two more of the men. My mother was in tears. "It's not my fault," she said. "It was those nosey neighbors."

Just then, one of said neighbors was pulling out of their driveway. They were two sisters, hefty spinsters with big blonde beehives and chains on their glasses. I said, "I hope she gets into a car wreck. Right. Now." And, lo and behold, as she backed into the street she was struck by an oncoming semi.

I was loaded into a bus full of mixed nuts, and we had a very long trip (during which I had a great number of hallucinations while looking out the window) to a sanitarium that looked more like an old Hollywood bungalow hotel than a hospital. There were buildings of gleaming white, with blue trim.

The lawns were expansive, and vibrant green. As we unloaded from the bus, we were guided through a portion of the lawns. One of the duties they had to teach responsibility was an animal-care program. Tiny, tiny baby animals of every variety were nestled in little piles throughout the lawn. Itsy bitsy giraffes, seals, ducks, platypuses, and all manner of exotic cubs were yawning and stretching in the noonday sun.

I enjoyed toast with jam every morning before heading out to do my "chores," while I awaited a trial to decide whether I was fit to be released and have my baby returned to me. The big day finally came. As I sat in the conference room on the grounds where the trial was being held, one by one the witnesses who would speak out against me were introduced. Once the judge had finished naming my detractors, I focused very, very hard on them all. And they vanished. Just, faded away like an old television set turning off. I looked at the judge with satisfaction. He said, "Well, if there's no one who has anything to say against Miss Lazaro, we'll just have to let her go and give her baby back." Silence. He smiled and smacked his gavel, and then I think he winked at me.

So I guess it wasn't too bad a nightmare, since I managed to use my telekenesis for evil.

The moral of the story, I suppose, is don't mess with me and my baby, or I'll make you disappear--bitch.