So. My Honey Love was talking to me about the fact that he had a zit on his ear and wanted to pierce his ear so he could get the pus out.
I'm all, "That is an extraordinarily bad idea. Nothing is worse than an infected ear piercing."
"Because don't. My point is, ear pus is not sexy. Neither are your bowels. YOU NEED TO BE SEXY FOR ME. I will share my feminist analysis with you. The reason women are supposed to act like delicate ethereal beings who have no actual bodily functions but men are under no such restraints is that men's desire is considered important and women's is not."
"Let me put this a different way. Do you ever want to have sex with me again? Do you want to retain your breast-fondling privileges?"
"DO YOU WANT TO HEAR ABOUT MY BOOGERS???"
*heavy sigh* "Go ahead."
"NO. NO NO NO NO NO."
This conversation was frequently interrupted by us laughing so hard we couldn't talk.
Had a long weird dream. In one part I was watching a movie about black women in the Civil Rights movement. Then there were octopi, starfish, and octopi mermaids out in the lobby, one of whom turned into a black woman who was super excited about the fact that all of the movies showing in the theater were similarly oriented towards her interests. I was talking about how the movie showed different aspects of how things went than the usual focus on heroic figures, more about organization and the support network. And quoted something I heard in real life, "If the little old church ladies stop doing things, we're in trouble." She kept using words I didn't know but could infer from context.
Then I was someone else, a young woman a road trip with two men, one young, one middle-aged and cranky, in a 1960s Lincoln convertible which got trashed in the process. We turned it in at a car dealership and were given an orange Beetle which the young man wasn't very good at driving as we set out across the desert.
We wound up at the Taj Mahal only not really, and played chess. I didn't much want to play chess but it was a thing people did so I agreed. I played in my usual Klingon aggressive style because, I said, the Moghuls were warriors. Then I was alone and the place wasn't really India, people were wearing sarongs and yelling at me in a language I didn't understand but I somehow knew they were disapproving of my shorts. I wasn't angry or embarrassed, I just thought, "come on, don't they know I haven't had time to change?"
And then I woke up.