Curry Me Home

November 9, 2009

Oh my god, I just remembered part of my weird dream from last night. I met Tim Curry at a party (but Tim Curry now, not when he was all young as Frankenfurter or Wadsworth or anything), and I was trying like hell to go home with him. No dice. It is a sad day when even old-man Tim Curry in my own dreams won’t sleep with me. I might have to just surrender the fantasy there.
Possibly Tim and I aren’t meant to be, even for a casual hour of really bizarre sex where I keep making him say random words to me with his beautiful voice as foreplay (“Now say ‘God save the Queen.’ Tell me what you had for breakfast. Now talk about mountains. Yes, get angry at them. Get angry at the mountains.”), and then quietly snip off a hair sample before leaving. Not that I’ve thought it out in great detail before, or thought about it while making out with other people or anything…   0_0
Or maybe I can keep stalking him online to see when he’s coming to Chicago next for some show or something, like I’ve been doing for years. (When I went to see him in Spamalot, I actually shaved my legs for the possibility that I might meet him outside the stage door and beguile him with…I don’t know—my shaved legs, I guess? Beguile him into taking me back to his room). I could keep doing that. I dunno. Toss a coin.


2 Responses to “Curry Me Home”

  1. Maria & Sabrina said

    We were laughing our asses off while reading through every line. Fuck you’re GREAT! We’ve had dreams about him too and he (unfortunately) never went home with us either…Good luck!:-)

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