Hot Dreams and Jon Stewart

Catherine here again, recovering from her Flash lovin' to talk about admiration of a different kind, and it has to do with dreams and Jon Stewart.

When most literate American women dream of Jon, I'm going to hazard a guess and say that their thoughts are dirty. I would have hoped for the same. But instead, what do I get for my one foray into Daily Show dreaming? I'm in Jon's Manhattan apartment. It's daytime. His wife is there. I'm BABYSITTING HIS KIDS. In fact, I'm already done babysitting the kids, but I don't want to leave, even though my assignment is clearly over and the moment is getting awkward. Instead I'm cracking jokes, trying to make Jon laugh. It is unsuccessful. Then suddenly the scene changes and he and I are eating pudding. It is a strange pudding, slightly savory, because it is not pudding at all, but sweetened mayonnaise. Jon is loving his mayonnaise pudding.  And I have to agree that it is quite tasty. But then I pull out the jar from the refrigerator and look at the nutritional label, and discover that it is exceptionally high in fat. So I take my pudding and give it to Jon. He devours it with joy. I wake up, feeling as if I've gained weight from eating imaginary mayonnaise desserts with the host of the Daily Show. I still cannot believe that I check nutritional labels in my sleep (and I shudder to think what I'll be doing with Stephen Colbert).