How’s everyone doing? We had a good evening here at the Sasha Casa yesterday. And then, a pretty pissy night.

 

Everything was going wonderfully, and then it was bedtime. I was angry at Drama Queen for snagging one of my packs of gum from the kitchen and hiding it among the mess of her bed.  I made her cut her normal bedtime routine short and just get her narrow ass up onto her top bunk. Then I lied down with Miss Poopie Pants on the bottom bunk.
I’m really good at foreshadowing. Pay attention.

 

So, of course, I fell asleep with Miss Poopie Pants. I do it all the time. I usually wake up around 1am or so, and then debate the merits of rolling over and going back to sleep, versus hauling my ass out of the bottom bunk and bouncing off furniture till I land in my own bed.

 

It was an hour before my normal middle of the night waking time, and I was dreaming about a beach. And Robert Pattinson. (In my dreams, he doesn’t sparkle. Stupid fucking movies.) We were enjoying a lovely time having sex sunbathing, when the sea spray suddenly hit me in the face. Just a little trickle. I looked at Rob and he laughed at me.

 

Asshole. I shan’t be dreaming about banging sunbathing with him again. I brushed away the spray on my face and then got splashed again. And then some more.

 

And then I sat up in Miss Poopie Pants’ bed, and smacked my head on the bottom of Drama Queen’s bed. And I realized that the trickle of liquid in my dream hadn’t been salt spray at all. It had been urine.  Urine from Drama Queen, who hadn’t gone potty in her rush to obey my screaming command to “GO TO BED NOW!”

 

Serves me right, I suppose.

 

The good news is, I get to tell people I had a golden shower involving RPatz.  Bite THAT, Kristen.

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