Today's Topic #1: A Holiday Song Promoting Things Both Larcenous and Unethical.

Have you ever really thought about the lyrics of "The 12 Days of Christmas"? It's pretty bizarre stuff. First of all, half of the gifts bequeathed by the narrator's True Love are birds (swans, partridges, turtle doves, etc). Everyone knows that pets make terrible presents. They require a lot of responsibility, and it's not fair to the animals in question if their owners turn out to be too flaky to take care of them. The other half of the gifts from the song are people. Actual people. Are we talking about human trafficking here? How do you think the eight maids a-milking feel about being purchased for some random chick's Christmas gift? They're not thrilled, I can tell you that much. In fact, the only proper gift in the whole song is the set of five golden rings. (Even that is rather questionable. I've always suspected the rings were stolen.)

Today's Topic #2: Zombies.

A few nights ago I had another dream about zombies. This time I was in an enormous house, and there were a bunch of other people with me. We had managed to contain the zombies within the upper and lower level of the house, but of course zombies can't just be content with what they have, so they were trying to break through to where we were. We set out to fight them, arming ourselves with items from the kitchen. I killed several zombies with a small paring knife and also with one of those little pokey things that holds your corn-on-the-cob (more effective than you'd think). The interesting thing is that this is the first time I have actually fought back against zombies in a dream. Typically, I catch one glimpse of those brain junkies lumbering toward me and immediately bolt in the other direction. I guess now that I'm pregnant the stakes are higher?

Somehow I was involved in a progressive battle between a group of superheroes and some various bad guys, including Nazis. I was helping the superheroes. Our side had the Hulk, but I didn't recognize any of the others. One of our battles took place inside a big church. At one point, the pews disappeared and a giant circular hole opened up, sort of like that hole Luke fell down after getting his hand chopped off in The Empire Strikes Back. This wasn't a problem for my comrades, however. They could all fly (or jump, in the case of the Hulk) up and down it. But I had to steer clear.

(Note to the Reader: For the sake of authenticity, all dreams are transcribed directly from my dream journal. The writing is...shall we say...unpolished? Also, they make very little sense, but then I'm sure that'll be nothing new for this blog.)

I was placed under house arrest, along with about 30 other men and women. There were about 10 guards with us at all times. It was sort of like a reality show, but instead of one person leaving each week, one person was executed. We were all held in a big facility that had a huge dining hall with long wooden tables.

My friend and I were having lunch yesterday, and at some point he jokingly asked me if I'd be willing to kill an acquaintance of his for $1,000. A thousand dollars? I repeated, laughing. I don't think so. With something like murder, I explained, there's a whole spectrum of things to take into consideration. For one, I'd have to do tons of research, determine an appropriate method, and then carry off the deed itself without getting caught or implicating him. Not easy. Likely not cheap, either. Also, there's my personal squeamishness and my distate for violence, both of which would take a hefty sum of cash to overcome. A thousand dollars, indeed. I scoffed at the suggestion.

...at least in my dreams.

I had a dream the other night that I was good friends with John Leguizamo. I've always been an admirer of his, ever since To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar, where he played a feisty Latin crossdresser. (Also, his role as Tybalt was the One Decent Thing about that Romeo + Juliet movie a few years back.) His stand-up routines are some of the funniest I've seen. So you'd imagine he'd be a difficult guy to entertain.

You'd be wrong. In my dream, we were watching late-night zombie movies and laughing riotously about them over a bowl of Doritos. I kept making satirical, Mystery Science Theater-type comments, which he found to be wildly entertaining. I don't remember any of the specific content, but it must have been some of the most hilarious ad libbing in the history of comedy. (Prehistoric comedy, of course, consisted mostly of one caveman luring another caveman into a tarpit with promises of tangy, tasty, piping-hot woolly mammoth ribs.)

The art in my office is terrible. I'm looking at a piece right now, and it's like a festival of mediocrity. It's all geometric shapes and muted colors, with bold stripes and wavy lines on the side to give it a sense of texture. It's the kind of design you might have seen on the $5 sweatshirt rack in the 80s. The one behind me is no better. More reds, maybe, and a hint of gold, with lots of intersecting half-circles. It reminds me just enough of a Chagall to piss me off.

Dream #1: I was dancing with Johnny Ramone in the desert. Don't know why, but I was. Then I saw this Japanese skateboarder doing Old School kickflips and grinds on a nearby railing. For some reason, he was wearing a t-shirt from the musical, CATS. He was really good, so I stopped dancing and went over to get his autograph. As he turned toward me, his eyes turned yellow and lasers shot out of them. It was kind of scary, so I left without getting an autograph.