Just to let you know upfront - I’m disgusted with myself.
So I‘ve had this all-night dream yesterday, featuring myself and Jenna Jameson! Yeah, I know what ya’ll think and that’s where things go terribly wrong - In that dream I was, get this, FRIENDS with Jenna. Yeah, no need to read it again, capital F capital RIENDS, best friends to be exact.
We were pretty tight I gotta say …
But WHAT da fuck is wrong with me? I mean it’s bad enough to dream about being fiends with a woman, but friends with Jenna?! Why? What purpose does it serve to be friends with her? EXACTLY O point NONE. And not only was I just friends with her, we did the dishes (?!?!) together, then watched TV with her boyfriend Tito Ortiz - ya, he was in my friggin head too and that’s where the buck stops:
It’s borderline gay dreaming of being best goddamn friends with a pornstar, but I really crossed a very, very awkwared and disturbing line when my fruitcake upped brain brings in Tito as well. It’s just not right man … Don’t I deserve to have normal-ass dreams? You know, the pure, decent, solid nine to five guy-dream stuff like raping a japanese minor on the subway?
But what can I do now, after the fact? When I woke up my first impulse was to call the catholic church to ask for a de-gay-specialist. But they probably would’ve just told me to call again when the girls I’m just friends with in my dreams are little boys. So there goes that lifeline.
I’m now planing on consulting a crack team of ‘dreamologists’ if thats a word, and hope they can shed light on my sorry soul and explain to me what made me talk about pros and cons of using washing cloth with an, I assume, slipless Jenna sitting next to me on the sofa.
The only thing left for me to do now, is try and be really, really not gay as much as I can.
