ooooh oooh oooh, Mr. Kot-taire!!!
Ah, home from church. I prayed for world peace, forgiveness, my sanity, AR's turtle and the power to understand how the thermodynamic process unwinds itself inside Entropy's avatar.
I time dh with a stopwatch. If he ever
falls under 17 minutes, 6.8 seconds, I tear into him like a chimp on a caramel banana.
If dh "sticks" it close to me, then it'll probably get sucked. He should know better than to dangle a worm near a trout. It's not like he whips it out in the middle of Burger King.
I am a rich, lazy, bored, stoopid housewife whose husband works and has a long commute and children are in school all day. So other than lobbying to get Martha Stewart off the air permanently I have nothing to do. My alter-ego is the Bad@ss Blonde Bimbette from Planet Babblec*ck, sent here to rid the world of bl*wjoblessness.
Speaking of bl*wjobs, dh gets six hundred and thirty-four of them in five days. I'm really quite tired.
Dh could not last sixty minutes. My pflaume is simply too hot and melts his p*nis.
Seriously, who cums up with this nonsense? Timed intercourse? Pornstar sex? I don't measure my sex life against how often others are doing the happy hyena.
As long as I clutch the sheets and yell, "My world is ending, baby! I see polka-dot squirrels on bicycles all around me!" at least once, I'm good.