You Don't Know Me, But I Know You. Like, Intimately.

I keep having celebrity sex dreams.

Normally, this wouldn't be a issue.  Everyone has sex dreams, whether it's about a famous person or your ex or your best friend or that kid you hated in high school.  The thing about my dreams that is becoming a bit problematic is that they are so vivid, so in depth (bada bing?), and happen so often, that I wake up thinking the whole thing actually took place.  And then the next time I see that celebrity on TV or online, I have a crazy internal stalker moment where I'm like, 'I actually know you.  We had sex'.

But of course, we didn't.  It was a dream and I'm insane.

The first sex dream I ever had (like, ever had, about anybody), was with Jackie Chan.


WHY.


Who the fuck has a sex dream about Jackie Chan, except maybe Jackie Chan's wife back when they first started dating and she actually thought she would be ok with being stuck with one dude for the rest of her life?

Regardless, it happened.  And it took place on the floor of a van in between the front and back seats.  And in the dream, it was awesome.

If you want to delete my number from your phone, I understand.

A few years went by before I had my next Hollywood encounter.  This time, it was with Padma Lakshmi, that girl from Top Chef.  She had always been one of those people that I hated for no particular reason. So imagine my surprise when I fell asleep one night only to find Padma on top of me, on a table with a white sheet over us, in the middle of a swanky rooftop party.

I'll keep the dirty details to myself, but I will say this:

I hope everyone, at one point in their life, get themselves a piece of Padma.

Then there are the dreams of Louis CK, which I have chronicled in past blog entries.  Those I don't mind, as you all know he is my greatest conquest.

Recently though, the past couple of weeks have been filled with night time romps with Bradley Cooper.  On one hand, yes please!  On the other hand, uuughh, how stereotypical is that?

Last night he dragged me into a closet.  It was pitch black and I couldn't see a thing, but I kept running my hands through his hair.  Then other stuff happened, you know.  The usual.

So this morning I woke up and, I swear to god, my stomach started doing flips because I was so nervous about the fact that I was going to meet up with Bradley again tonight.

Like, for a split second, I actually thought that I was hanging out with him later.  In real life.

Then I found my way back into reality and got kind of disappointed.  Disappointed because I wasn't actually going to hang out with a celebrity millionaire who has no fucking clue who I am.

If you guys could at least lie and tell me this has happened to you before, that would make me feel a lot better.

Maybe this whole Bradley Cooper thing stems from the fact that he's from Jenkintown and I'm 99% sure Emmett saved him from getting a parking ticket that one time.  So if he was ever back in town one day and I actually ran into him at the West Avenue Grill or something, I would have a plethora of weird and potentially creepy stories to tell him.  About us.  Like, me and Bradley.  Together.

This makes me miss the good old days of having dreams where there was some terrible monster coming but I couldn't move my legs to run away.  Those were simpler times...