I’m going to deviate a bit from the typical tone of this blog to tell you a story. This is a story of something that may or may not have actually happened sometime between the hours of 6 and 9 a.m. last Sunday morning…
I find myself sitting at the dining table of someone who seems to be Patti’s close friend or brother (we’ll go with brother) and his wife. Patti Ford (a.k.a. “Hot Piece of Ass” Patti Ford from Insane in the Mom-Brain) is living with them and their two kids for the time being. Also present is Paul Rudd. Patti lies across the table on her stomach, pretending to swim. Meanwhile, Paul Rudd is scaling a wall (they must have had a vaulted ceiling) to play in a Chuck E. Cheese style ball pit 15 feet off the floor. He is shirtless. Patti slides off of the table, pulling the table cloth down with her as she heads over to play with her niece and nephew. Her sister-in-law sits down and asks me if I have any fours, which is strange because we aren’t playing cards.
“No,” I reply, as I suddenly realize that I am holding two small, white cards.
One of them has the number 4 printed on it.
“Oh, wait. Yes. I do.” I hand her my card, surprised.
She grins and informs me, “Now, if we’d been playing a real game, I’d tell you to take off an article of clothing. How would you feel about that?”
I give the completely boring response, “Well, I guess that’d be fine since I’m wearing an undershirt.” Lame. Still, appropriate since there are kids around. “Do you play Strip Go Fish often?”
She nods seductively.
The baby crawls to me and I pick him up. He’s a cute, chill little guy. It feels nice to hold a baby again.
Patti, feeling satisfied with her duties as the “fun aunt,” decides to go to bed. Paul must still be playing in the ball pit held aloft. I can only assume they went to bed together, to play and sleep in the Asgardian ball pit.
Meanwhile, Patti’s brother is off doing something in another part of the house. He’s trying to talk to me from another room, so I set down the baby and follow the voice. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him dash out of the bedroom doorway he was standing in, and he appears to be completely naked. Well, that is unless you count an acoustic guitar as an article of clothing.
He walks out into the kitchen, and he is, indeed, naked and wearing a guitar. Sadly, the guitar strap is short, and he wears the guitar a la 1964, leaving his junk exposed. I shield my eyes, as is the polite thing to do when one is a guest in someone’s home. (I’m sure I read that in Emily Post’s Etiquette.) He invites me to sing a song with him.
As enticing as the idea of hanging out with a naked man in a kitchen, singing acoustic covers of popular music sounds, I excuse myself and return to the dining room, which has an adjacent sitting room. Patti’s sister-in-law calls me in, and I find her poised to begin breastfeeding the baby. The baby, however, is in my arms, so I am puzzled as to why her left breast is exposed. Don’t look now, mama’s got her boobs out.
I once again exchange niceties and excuse myself as I hear kids yelling in my kitchen at home, and I wake up. No resolution. I suppose Paul Rudd will just have to stay in that ball pit; at least until I have another dream about him. And as far as I’m concerned, the only reason Patti Ford didn’t totally come on to me was because of Paul Rudd’s ball pit antics. Curse you and your balls, Paul Rudd!
There were plenty of things I can point to in real life that contributed to this dream. Watching old home videos involving my older son at Chuck E. Cheese’s and my younger son as a baby, an idea for a musical project involving another blogger (I’m talkin’ ’bout you, Katy!), watching Thor, etc.
I’m curious to see what YOU have to say about it. Interpretations, anyone? Leave me a comment!