I'm Not a Whore

I think the pregnancy hormones are getting the best of me. Last night I dreamt that I was wooed and proposed to by a tuxedo-wearing James Franco.*




James' tuxedo was dreamy, the rock was HUGE, but that's not even the best part. In this dream, I was thin. Not just pre-pregnancy thin, but THIN! Like Kiera Knightley, but with bigger boobs. I was HOT!


I normally don't consider myself a James Franco fan,*** but after this dream I might have to reconsider my position on the matter.


Then when Steven tried to wake me up, I may or may not have told him "Go away, James is talking." I would like to think I'm not the type of woman to dream-cheat on my husband, but apparently not. I'm not a whore, it's just the hormones talking.

*He must not photograph well. I had the hardest time finding a photo of him where he didn't look confused or high.**

**I don't know his life. Maybe he is always high and confused? Who am I to judge?

***Meaning, I wouldn't maul him in public if I were given the chance. Johnny Depp, on the other hand...