My Disastrous Dinner Party with the Obama's

Everyone has a presidential nightmare, right?

I had a dream last night about the Obama's. They appeared in my nocturnal soap operas way back, when they were in the White House, but this was a surprise appearance.

This time, Barak and Michelle were bringing their kids over for a dinner party, but it was their little daughters, not the grown up version.

Everything was going wrong. I wanted to wear something nice, but my closet was bare except for a yellow velvet butterfly shirt my daughter wore in fourth grade. And no pants.

So I'm bottomless walking around in a Size 6x yellow butterfly top.

The apartment was messy— not any home I recognize. We had to eat on a plastic table and cardboard boxes. I was apologizing every minute. B and M were so polite and "understanding," it made it worse.

Jon and I had made a meal of steamed broccoli for everyone—  that was it, steamed broccoli.

I worried that their kids might be the "no vegetables" type. Should we make them hot dogs separately?— or do the Obamas believe in the philosophy of "Eat what's o…