Sunday, August 14, 2005
Meatballs, Sex and the City
I had a dream last night that the finale to “Sex and the City” had nothing to do with Carrie fucking off to Paris and everything to do with me chasing down Samantha Jones because she stole my meatballs and wouldn’t fess up.
I made my special meatballs – baked in the oven, not fried, because that’s how Mom makes them. Then, they magically disappeared from my oven. I spent the whole rest of the dream tracking them down. I finally found them in the oven at Samantha Jones's apartment. She behaved all clueless when I got there and said something about how she couldn’t possibly have done it because she was having sex with Orlando Bloom in a swing at the time. So I punched her in the solar plexus and stomped on her head until she finally confessed to the dastardly deed, while Miranda looked on, shaking her head and muttering, “I told you so…”
I’m not sure what this dream means, but I do know that at the end of it I kicked Samantha in the ass and booted her out the door: “Go back to Porky’s you geriatric bitch!” Then I ate my meatballs with spaghetti and garlic bread.
This is all the more weird because I don't watch "Sex and the City". Maybe I should eat something…