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My Carbon Monoxide Dreams Strike Again.

Well, the contents of my actual dream are still pretty fuzzy -- it had something to do with detonating as nuclear bomb in Tampa, and I knew it went off because my microwave was shaking from the explosion -- but the main focus was being able to travel back in time. And I'm not talking about the Marty McFly time travel where you can go back and see earlier versions of yourself, oh no. In my dream there was only one of you. So when you went back in time, you took the place of your previous self but remained who you are now -- your current body, all your memories, and everything you know. I had trouble falling back asleep so for the next hour or so found myself putting a lot of thought into this perplexing conundrum. What I came up with was the further back you went, the more difficult it would be for you to positively alter major events in your life. Secondly, you would have a much greater impact on the lives of those around you, than you could ever hope to have on your own life. Allow me to present a few examples.

For starters, you can't go back any further than when you were alive. So no going back to make out with your mom in the front seat of an old Packard. And no going back to 1912 so you can board the Titanic to say, "Hey y'all might want to think about hittin' the brakes and turning this big motherfucker left." Nope, you can only go back to when you were born and later, nothing before.

Let's take the obvious one. "Retain all my memories? Everything I've learned? I'll know what stocks to buy and who's going to win the World Series each year... I'll make a fortune! Send me back to when I was 5 years old so I can live my life perfectly!" Okay, you're a 70 year old man (born in 1941) so poof, off you go to 1951. So picture this: your parents put their 5 year old boy to bed, and the next morning when they wake you for school their kid is missing and a snoring farting elderly man is stretched out in their kid's place. What do you think is more likely, you'll be hailed as a hero from the future or carted off to prison for kidnapping and murder? You'll spend the remainder of your days trying to convince your parents who you are (DNA? What's DNA?) while they try to convince you to reveal where you buried their son's body. But let's say that after recalling detailed facts about that one summer vacation by the shore, you're able to convince mom and dad that you are indeed their son from the future. Terrific, now you're studied by doctors everywhere for premature aging and with a life expectancy of 76 years, you'll be the only person to die of old age on your "16th birthday". Or of course you could avoid the whole mess by simply escaping from the house and never contacting your family again, leaving them to believe their son was kidnapped overnight. Like that's awfully thoughtful of you.

Okay, so don't send me back that far. I know, I'll do something heroic for my country. I'll go back 10 years and prevent the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Center. Okay, fair enough. I think it'll be easier for old people to accomplish this task, rather than younger people. Back in 2001, a 70 year old man can go to bed and wake up looking like an 80 year old man with a little less than hearing, "Man you look like shit this morning." Yet a 15 year old going to bed and waking up looking like he's 25? Well, see the "gimme back my son" example above. But let's say that you manage to sneak out of the house without getting into a confrontation with friends or family about how you've magically aged overnight. So you show up to FBI headquarters, kick in the front door and yell, "Listen motherfuckers! Tomorrow morning nineteen ragheads are going to hijack four planes and crash them into the World Trade Center, the Pentagon, and another heading for maybe the White House or the Capitol Building, I'm not sure." Right, I can see them leading you back now, "Hey Stan, we've got another man from the future :rolls eyes: who says there's going to be a terrorist attack tomorrow. The worst we've ever seen." Maybe they believe you, maybe they don't. Maybe they don't believe you until the next day. How do you think they're going to treat you... like a man from the future here to save the world, or someone who was intimately involved in planning the attack and simply had a change of heart? Yep, write me from Gitmo, John Walker Lindh.

Hey, what's that? You've been diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer and have been given a year to live? No problem, we'll just send you back five years and... congratulations you've still got Stage IV cancer! The only difference now is people will have seen you go from healthy to near dead overnight, and the date of your obituary is going to read five years earlier than you had originally intended. But if a loved one had cancer, then yes you could make an impact by going back five years and saying, "Listen asshole we need to get to a doctor right now."

No, I think the biggest impact you could really make without completely fucking up the lives of everyone around you would be to read the lottery numbers from today's newspaper, go back to yesterday and become an instant millionaire. Well, okay there are a few other minor things you could do to undo mistakes of the very recent past. Maybe go back a few weeks and not jerk off into your co-worker's water bottle, or maybe go back a month or so and not have sex with a bitter co-worker. But other than that, your hands are pretty much tied. But I did allow myself this one fantasy: Maybe set the clock back to late 2003. Head on over to Harvard University, march up into the dorms and knock on one of their hard wooden doors. "Hello Mark? Yeah I heard you've got this idea for a new website, and I was hoping to get in on the ground floor. Maybe this $50,000 can buy me a 10% stake in the website? ... Yeah you will? Cool okay, great." And if that were true you wouldn't be reading this, because my fat ass would be watching the fountain show at the Bellagio right now.

Of course on the flip side, there are hot women who continue to ride their blaze of glory. Take Marisa Miller for instance. She was born to be a swimsuit model and destined to find the beach as the key to her success. Born and raised in the coastal town of Santa Cruz, attention came to Marisa early, and by 20 she was a regular in Perfect 10 magazine. It was Mario Testino, the famed Peruvian photographer, who launched Marisa’s career as it would be known – working for both Victoria’s Secret and a regular in Sports Illustrated’s swimsuit issues. Marisa has appeared in every issue since 2002 – including gracing the cover in 2008. Look, I doubt any of these hot chicks are really housewives but that's the theme of the photos and the fantasy we are gonna play along with for the next few minutes. I've always fancied the idea of a hot housewife… just not one of my own but as we all know only to well there's a downside to that plan. So until I become a delivery man or a gardener who gets invited in for a 'cold drink' by a scantily clad lovely looking for some afternoon action while hubby is at the office, all I've got are these pictures to fuel my hot housewife fantasy.

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