A game of Twister,
a vat of Crisco,
and Callista Flockhart
MMMMMMM.
I transform into a werewolf,
she becomes a humanoid fox,
and the electricity goes out…
we only have candle light.
OOOOHHH.
She belts down a blackberry brandy,
I knock back a handful of Viagra (like I really need it?)
AAAAAHH.
My fantasy is to meet a woman who values in men the particular set of characteristics in which I excel, and who doesn’t care about those things which I particularly lack. And who happens to be intelligent, funny, articulate, and kind. Then we’ll fall in love. And if we don’t, well, then at least I’ll know that there’s absolutely no hope for me ever 
Things I kind of daydream about from time to time:
-bringing back to life, in the prime of their youth but with their current knowledge, everyone in my dad’s family back two generations or so, and we’d all be at a park and have a picnic and play baseball, a la field of dreams.
-that the flight that crashed in Pennsylvania had landed safely with the terrorists subdued, so that there would have been something to celebrate on 9/11
-travelling back in time 500 years or so to change the world for the better, and the details that would be involved
-having all of the skills of my super-duper-ass-kicking Wizardry character from junior high school
-taking one of the really neat story ideas that are rattling around in my head (there are two of them), writing them up into full fledged movie scripts, somehow (perhaps with my sister’s contacts) getting them read in Hollywood, having them made into movies, winning an oscar for best screenplay, and then going back to writing video games
the Big Girl is all that and more! you oughta get together with her someday…
my fantasy is that biiiig tom next door, lots of catnip, and a secluded place, mixed together slowly. RRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrr…
Being somewhere, anywhere, so that I can be with my Australian.
Ideally, this would be a wooden house in Ponta Pora, Brazil, with a rolling lawn and a backyard full of trees, and a hammock. And we wouldn’t have to work for money, because, um, one of us would be rich. Probably from the three degrees I’d have completed before moving to Brazil. Or maybe just really good at playing the stocks. Or maybe I’d be writing for a living. I could write from a hammock. Maybe not while he was in the hammock with me grin but I could write from a hammock. If I had a lap-top. But we’d be rich so I could have a lap-top. And a BMW Z-3 roadster which we would take to the beach on the weekends. And I’d be 40 lbs thinner, which seems currently to be a fantasy no matter how many aerobics classes I complete each week 
and how many steamed vegetables I eat instead of, say, Tim-Tams. 
And he’d be just like he is now. Only near me. And probably not wearing a sweater, because it’s Brazil and it’s warm.
But y’know?
I could settle for a small flat in Canberra, really. With a tiny kitchen, though it would pain me to make dinner in a cramped setting. It’d be fine if all we could afford to buy was frozen veggies and boxed dinners like KD and ground beef, and on occasion chicken. It could have one window. (The flat, not the chicken.) I could still be fat. We could bike and bus to Uni and work instead of zipping along in the Z-3.
Just so long as it didn’t have bugs. And he was there. Everything else is just icing on the proverbial cake.
sigh
…and lots of lovely speaker cabinets to scratch, to be sure. 
My fantasy is to be living in Milwaukee for this winter (yes I know its wierd but there is a reason behind it)
Oh and I forgot to add that I would like that fantasy with lots of cash thanks
::Avoiding the obvious sexual fantasies::
Would like to shirk off all semblence of responsibility and load up my back pack and hike the North Country Trail http://www.northcountrytrail.org Grow my hair and beard long and look like Grizzly Adams.
Not me!
To have my wife bring over some of her hot friends for a night of Twister and Mazola oil!
Immortality, unlimited range of motion, indestructability, and complete and utter control over matter. One of these days . . .
You’re a Guy, I hope, right?
My fantasy is to take what I know now and go back ten years and live my life over again from that point.
Or, if I can’t have that, more money that I could conceivably spend in a lifetime would be okay, too.
Good question, Cal.
Hi, Caiata (by the way, what does that UserName mean?
Lotsa questions (including the above).
What are Tim-Tams?
What is KD?
What is Uni?
What is Z-3?
And I love the part where you say, “I could still be fat.” No kidding!
Sue, err, I mean, Another
Wow. Yes, that’s mine too, but fifteen.
I’d have stayed with my first husband.
But, then, I think – sure, that would have been better for me, but what if my kids ended up being different because of that? They’ve experienced the heartbreak of parents divorcing, and the trials of living with a single mom and a single dad, and they are wonderful and happy.
So, if that fantasy was presented to me as a real possibility, what would I do?
Hmm.
Hmm.
I’d take it and make sure I didn’t mess up my kids by spoiling them.
(Actually, they’re alien children anyway. They never hit the “terrible twos” or any of the stages along the way. I even enjoyed their teenage years. And they’re smart, fun, and happy. I must have done something in a former life to deserve them, because it sure ain’t a reward fitting this lifetime!)
-Another
AHA! you’re James T. Kirk!
I’d like to host a radio show like “Prairie Home Companion” but without the self-importance.
Basically, I’d sit on stage and tell stories for an hour or so interspersed with comedy bits and music. I’d be famous, write several books of witty little vignettes, and be in demand for tours with my show and appearances on The Tonight Show.
It goes without saying that this would entail my earning ungodly large sums of money, and I’d probably find a swimsuit model or cosmetic spokeswoman to marry. Once I settled down to a life of fabulous riches and being married to an international sex symbol, I’d rent some hangar space next to Jay Leno and start filling barns with Packards, Chrysler 300 letter cars, and the odd Duesenberg and Cadillac.
Well? We’re waiting.
My fantasy is simple:
I wish my penis was smaller so my wife could actually enjoy sex instead of trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt half the time just to make me happy.
Oh, yeah, and my dog would still be alive, and he would get to eat the annoying neighbor dog every morning.