I had a dream the other day that a wild animal was running loose in my house. It was like some kind of combination between a dog and a kangaroo, and it was fast. Then animal control came and got it.

The animal control guys had almost no presence in my dream. I didn’t speak to them, and I can barely make out what they look like–one is thin and older and medium height, and the second one is taller than the first and that’s all I know. I didn’t look at them and they didn’t look at me and I didn’t have to tell them where the animal was or anything, they just came in and knew. I don’t even remember how they left. But I had the distinct feeling that I had to fuck them for doing a good job and getting the animal.

I hate it when I have to go to that Safeway.  When I went to get ingredients to make dinner with Ten it was like 9:30 p.m. on a Friday, and even though the store is open for a while longer, by that time the whole place was dead. When I rang all my groceries up the cashier said, do you want help out to your car?, and I said no without even really thinking and he said “suit yourself.” I had one bag of stuff and none of it was heavy.

Some people think you should report that type of behavior but I don’t want to encourage anyone to hide their intentions so that they decide one day to follow someone out into the deserted parking lot without saying anything first. I don’t punish honesty and it has nothing to do with rewarding others for being honest. I wanted to tell the only other cashier there that she should stop putting up with the crap and go become a prostitute.

I know I’m not the only one who sees this; the now-discredited Stella Marr talks about being nervous to interact with deli-counter guys. It probably seems over-the-top to many people, and is a great way for people who disagree with her to show how she is exaggerating things, but although I am against her standpoint on prostitution (how could she not want to charge some asshole sandwich guy for the pleasure of talking to her?), I don’t think she’s making this up.

I can see it in the way the pharmacy boy screws up an old lady’s order because he was getting my birth control ready too fast. What am I going to do when I am that old lady and I need my medicine to be done right because I could seriously suffer or die if it isn’t?

There was no good reason that I should’ve had to fuck the animal control and there is no solid rule that says I have to do that kind of thing in real life, so I don’t know why I feel the need to do it anyway. I don’t know why I have sex with people that I don’t really feel like fucking. The best explanation I can come up with is that I am preparing myself so that one day when I really am coerced into it I’ll be able to remind myself that it’s not so bad and I’ve gotten through it before.

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