Cock Shopping?

Don’t mind if I do!

Last night I had a dream in which Lar and I went shopping for a new penis -- his, to be exact.

Yes, it was a wonderful time, just me and Lar, finally able to spend time alone, away from the screaming masses (our kids), and the variety on display at the penis store was truly breathtaking. Why, they had every size, shape and color imaginable, some bent, others ramrod straight, and some with adorable little knit caps. After what seemed a long, long time of browsing the manly merchandise, I suggested to my equally enthralled husband that he might like to try on the Jimbo, a lovely toffee-colored specimen of enormous proportion, and just as he was getting ready to emerge from the dressing room, me all aflutter in anticipation, I woke up.

Have you ever tried desperately to go back to sleep, resume a particularly awesome dream, but were unable, then became so frustrated you tore your pillow in half with your teeth? Yeah, me too.

On that note, I’ll leave you by saying that I hope my homeboy, Philip Seymour Hoffman, gets the golden nude this Sunday. Talk about dreamy! That man is not only sexy-fine-glorious, he’s funny, intelligent and one of the best actors of our generation. So, Phil (as I like to call him), if you’re reading this (which, of course, you aren’t, but I’m allowed to dream, aren’t I ? -- see above), I have a few things to say before you head for the red carpet: Have fun. Bring home that Oscar. And don’t forget where you came from. You’re still a RAWchestarian, boy, and don’t tell me your heart doesn’t still lie in Tanglefoot’s. Good luck!