I woke up when Big A leaned over me to say Good Morning to the baby (who, btw, who stares at me every morning silently, with cannibal-level passion.)
I had a dream about Obama, says I.
Big A pounces: was it a sex dream?
Kind of--I didn’t have sex with him, but my friend T was trying to get him to have sex with her younger sister N. Oh, and also, we were all at the big seaside hotel and no one seemed to recognize him as the presidential candidate at all, except for politically savvy me. What I really liked was that he had two balconies: reportedly one reserved for looking at the sea and the other one for drying his towels--very bright man that. Vote!
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