Ten days of sun

Tomorrow I jet off to milder, smog-choked climes with Jonny, Rik and Missi. We'll be hooking up with Scott and his esteemed wife Kate once we get there. The rest will be a drunken blur. Actually, I don't tend to drink heavily in L.A. because I'm always aware of the precariously large rental car sitting in nearby valet hock. (Northern California is a different story. I'll be back, Monte Rio. Seriously, read that description and tell me you don't want to go there.)

Anyway, I'll be in L.A. until February 4, and then I'll return with a base tan and a suitcase full of crusty laundry. I will be blogging, as always, from the Daughter. I'll let you know if I meet any famous anus.

Jonny finally got a CPAP machine to relieve his chronic sleep apnea. Last night he had to sleep tethered to an oxygen hose with this giant plastic device suckered to his face. He was too anxious to have sex but I am so looking forward to kinky HR Geiger fucking in which I pretend to be a sadistic alien nurse. I have a feeling I may be repeatedly denied entry.

Speaking of slutting it up, I had the weirdest dream last night. I was crouching naked in a Wal-Mart parking lot and this hot white trash couple offered to help me out. I hopped gratefully into their van and they drove me to their trailer. Inside, the girl went down on me and asked me to repeat the favor. But then she whipped out a giant cock that was, like spewing cum, only it was girl-cum that tasted like the Gulf of Mexico. Every time I tried to suck her off, she came. I was freaked out by her salty spew and I asked her to put on a rubber. She and her husband giggled and told me I was a prude. Then I woke up.

It appears that something exciting is happening to Dooce. I don't know the girl, but I do know that once the lawyers get involved, it's real. Good on her!