I just had a dream about Madonna. We lived together in a fabulously chic apartment somewhere in Chinatown. (No, I’ve never seen anything fabulously chic there either, but it was a dream, dearie.) She was my best friend. We went shopping together. We bought matching t-shirts.
And we had sex.
I guess that means I’m officially gay. Or, more likely, it means that I undercooked my steak last night. E coli can do the darndest things….
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