I just had the best dream so naturally I woke up and did what I always do– punched my husband.
I dreamt Joe Manganiello and I were in a tickle fight and he was winning. He held me down with my hands over my head with one of his powerful paws. Then with the other hand, he ran his thick, manly fingers slowly all the way down my upstretched arm, past my perfectly shaved, baby soft and deodorized armpit and toward my tanned, svelt rib area. It’s my dream, people– just go with it. Normally I dislike being tickled and I might kick you if you try but it was different with Joe. Yes, it was. I liked it. A LOT.
But then in the dream my Current Legal Spouse walked in during our tickle-play and broke up the fun. What a cock-blocking killjoy he is. Dream over.
When I woke up I was so mad. “Thanks a lot– Joe Mantegna and I were having a moment and you ruined it.” I muttered, half-asleep. Current Legal Spouse just looked at me, confused (this is the way he looks at me 90% of the time, so no big). “Joe Mantegna?” “The actor dude from Godfather III??”
What? Maybe I have his name wrong… I ran to Google.
“Okay, no, no– not this Joe.”
|I mean no offense to you, sir. I’m sure you’re a lovely man.|
|Oh, yes. YOU. C’mere, you.|
Joe Manganiello. Not Joe Mantegna. My mistake. You ladies know who I meant. Duh. They both have beards but that’s where the similarities end.
It’s the dude from True Blood and Magic Mike. I don’t watch True Blood but I may have to start so I can have more dreams.
‘Cause that was a good ‘un.
It’s probably for the best that we were interrupted, because in the dream we were laughing and staring into each other’s eyes. Something was about to happen to take it to the next level but let’s face it– I probably would’ve blown the moment by nervously laughing too hard, forcing a small snot rocket to shoot out of my nose and land on his face. That is the kind of stuff that inevitably happens when you tickle-fight a celebrity. A snot rocket is a real mood-killer. I don’t even really *like* Joe Manga-whatshisface. He wasn’t even on my radar, on my “list.” You know that list– the “Freebie List”. We all have them. Or some people call it their “Get Outta Jail Free” list, meaning, if at any time you encountered this celebrity your spouse HAS to let you sleep with them because you will never ever have this opportunity again. I just call it my Fucket List. Sort of like a Bucket List but with genitals. And it has to be a real celebrity— not that dude down at Auto Zone with the nice ass or the traffic girl on Channel 2 that you want to nail. Celebrities only.
Basically there were only two names on my Fucket List at the moment. George Clooney and Daniel Craig. Maybe Russell Crowe but only Russell from Gladiator, not Russell from the Insider or even Russell in real life. Don’t talk, Russell. You’re ruining it.
|No, but I am aroused.|
I guess I’ll just scratch Russell and add Joe. The Manganiello one.
I’m going back to bed.