When will all these crazy dreams stop? They’ve been going on for at least a week and every night they get crazier and crazier. Usually I try to use my dreams to figure out stuff that’s going to happen in the future like lottery numbers and horse race winners, but recently my subconscious has declared war on my brain.

A week ago Wednesday I went to sleep after drinking my nightly bedtime cocktail – triple sec, bitters, grape juice, and two bottles of Nyquil – and all of a sudden I was thrown into the strangest dream I ever had. I was a seahorse broad living in this underground suburban housing community and I was making dinner for my little seahorse kids until my husband came home and said he was taking us all for a seahorse celebration because he got promoted at the real estate office. We went to this fancy buffet where they only served kelp and then one of my little seaponies turned into a skyscraper and I was standing on top of him looking for my shoes (which had fallen to the ground below). That’s when I heard a siren and woke up. I didn’t think anything of it, but the next night, the dream continued.

There are two words that make my heart beat like a giraffe approaching a highway underpass. “Internet” and “dating.” When you put them together, I’m likely to go into convulsions. Up until last week, internet dating was number four on my most-current list of fears. It’s topped only by French-Canadian clowns that don’t wear pants, bodies of water where I can’t see the bottom, and my three remaining uncles. I’ve been on a mission to conquer these fears and that’s why I decided to give internet dating a shot.

My romance needs are real specific, so I didn’t know if these internet dating sites would be able to handle a dude like me. As a product of the free-love generation, I’ve still got some free-love souvenirs hanging around my free-love toolkit and I need a lady who doesn’t mind a few bumps on the free-love highway, so to speak. Lots of sites claim to help you find the perfect person for your particular needs, but I didn’t believe it until I actually tried them out. Did you know there are actually places to go for people in my… situation? There are. More than you’d imagine.

What’s better than a nice, hot bath? Almost nothing except for a nice, hot bath with a foxy lady and some fine aged Dominican cigars. You can get Dominican stogies almost anywhere, but I still like to smuggle them in. It gives me a sense of accomplishment when I smoke them. Makes me feel proud.

When I’m sitting in that tub, I light one up and enjoy it for hours. I don’t mind the water wrinkles I get from staying in there too long, because hey, I’ve got enough wrinkles of my own so who am I to complain? Plus, when I park my kiester in that tub long enough, I feel like I’m just another part of the water so it doesn’t even matter that I have skin in the first place. I like to pretend I’m just a merman enjoying my aqua bounty.

A lot of people say that when you get to be my age, it’s much harder to stay in shape. What a load of poppycock. Just look at me. I’m a machine. Based on my own measurements, I have roughly 2% body fat. I’m so cut, I could model for Italian sculptors. If the government wanted to, they could build robot soldiers in my likeness. So don’t go telling me that it’s hard to stay fit.

My diet is pretty simple. Mung beans for breakfast, mung beans for lunch, and then a sensible dinner – usually comprised of more mung beans. For beverages, I only drink water or whiskey and when I’m drinking whiskey, it’s usually when I’m working out. It gives me the courage to lift more than I can when I’m sober.