I want to tell you about this crazy dream I had last night. I dreamed some of my friends entered me into a pageant as a joke. Not a beauty pageant mind you, because that would be just plain mean, but one of those Woman of the Year things that a major magazine was running. So somehow I actually was chosen as one of the contestants and I went because I thought the whole thing was pretty damn funny and since there was no way on God’s green earth I was going to win the thing I could just go and have fun and make fun of it all.

So here I am, surrounded by women in evening gowns waiting for the final competition. Not exactly a talent event but you had to give a speech or play a flute or whatever, all in hopes of winning. And your contribution had to be based around your “platform”, meaning whatever your motto was. So, because it was MY dream, I was one of three finalists! And I was scrambling big time to figure out what to do because I never figured I would make it this far.
In the meantime, the 1st finalist stepped up to the mike. She had BIG blonde hair and crinkly blue eyes and was wearing a bright yellow chiffon gown with rhinestones all over it in the shape of the sun. She played a cute little ukelele and sang the sweetest little song about how singing makes everything better and how her whole family sings together everyday and how inspiring it is to make up songs about everything that happens to you. Her platform was ” singing is love.” Get the picture? Totally gag-worthy.

The 2nd finalist is wearing a black evening gown and has ash smudges on her cheeks and arms and forehead. She gives a solemn speech about losing her house in a fire and how hard it was but she and her family were rebuilding their lives and everything was going to be okay and it was a good lesson in being grateful. It was a depressing speech, to say the least. Her platform was “perseverence and finding your strength.”

Now it is my turn. And I have no idea what to do. So I decide to do a rift about how to be Martha Stewart with a minimal amount of effort and I talk about all these short cuts in housekeeping and cooking and entertaining and I make it funny and I am KILLING it. I have on an evening gown that I have hot glued funny little things to and I go off on a tangent on appetizers and how to blow your guests away by putting cream cheese on a plate and covering it with pepper jelly and how they will think what a gourmet chef you are while you are smirking to yourself. My platform is “faking it and having fun.”

OF COURSE, I win. I wake up just as the tiara is being placed on my head. And I wake up laughing.

My 2nd dream was about Pierce Brosnan trying to get me to go on a date with him by giving me 100s of vintage valentines. I have no idea where that dream came from. I certainly can’t control what I dream about…….
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