My Superbowl Prediction: Proof That My Psychic Abilities Are Not 100% Reliable

I had a dream Saturday night that a black drag queen and I went to the Superbowl. The game was going to be played at Cleveland Browns Stadium for some crazy reason. When we got there, skies over the lake looked ominous and I wondered at what idiot would lose his/her job for greenlighting the decision to hold the big game here in early February.

As we sat down in la loge, of course, I told him that one of the things I must do before I die is go to see a live drag queen show and I wondered if I could go see his. He told me, no, this wasn't a kind of show that ladies would want to attend. He didn't go into any detail, but I had a flash of insight of a drag show being held on the set of a Rudolph Valentino movie (and in black and white) where my drag queen friend was dressed in seven veils, dancing gracefully under an arch on the third floor balcony overlooking a 1930's Hollywood idea of a Moroccan marketplace. Meanwhile, various hunks ala Charlton Heston and John Agar pole danced in togas around the columns. It was exactly the kind of drag show I'd like to see, frankly. Then he showed me a black and white photo of his totally ripped, white boyfriend.

We spent the rest of the time bitching about our respective jobs and eating gourmet nachos. Unnoticed by us, the Bears won game and we left feeling vaguely happy for all of those Chicago fans who got to celebrate their championship team.