Seems the cast of “Butt Fuck Sluts Go Nuts” has moved in to the apartment over the Jarbaby household, and they’re putting those floorboards to work.
Hey, really I don’t mind. Sleep doesn’t matter much to me. I don’t mind that you can’t seem to separate into two human beings, functioning on several levels in separate rooms of the house, and I don’t mind that it sounds like you’ve got a mighty interesting sex life…because apparently you’re wearing fucking BLACK LEATHER JACK BOOTS around the bedroom and actually throwing each other against the wall between thrusts.
Hey kids…to each their own.
The problem is…YOU’RE MAKING ME LOOK BAD. Mr. Jarbaby is in AWE of the frequency and indeed TIMEFRAME that your intercourse occurs. You get up (ho ho) at 3:00 am and go at it until dawn, you do it in the middle of the afternoon, early sunday morning…whenever. You’re giving me too much to live up to, and I don’t have the schedule, blood iron content or frankly, desire to enter into a fucking circle jerk horserace with you.
And to throw some salty, sticky icing on this cake? When you meet my husband in the hallway and introduce yourself, tossing your cute blonde hair over your shoulder and grinning…you’ve got the pussylips to say,
Mr. Jarbaby? What about me? My god, I need some rest people…and what about the laundry? And the dishes? And the bills and the dog needs walking? And what about my book, I have to work on my book! And make a new mix tape, and get back to the pool. I have to change the address on my Movieline subscription and make macaroni salad. I have to repot the ferns (if you know what I mean) and clean out the comic book box.
Sheesh! I don’t have time to be on my back all day.
This bed is on fire
With passionate love
The neighbours complain about the noises above
But she only comes when she’s on top
My therapist said not to see you no more
She said you’re like a disease without any cure
She said I’m so obsessed that I’m becoming a bore, oh no
Ah, you think you’re so pretty
Caught your hand inside the till
Slammed your fingers in the door
Fought with kitchen knives and skewers
Dressed me up in womens clothes
Messed around with gender roles
Dye my eyes and call me pretty
Munch, you dick, that was too damn funny! Jarbaby, they’ve been there how long and are how old? Don’t you remember the first few months of a relationship, or in a new place, where you’ve got to have sex in every room, against every wall and counter, just to check the structure? Coming home for a nooner then later, while trying to make dinner, throwing aside the table-top and going at it until prime-time and ordering pizza? Waking up in the middle of the night, not to get water or go pee, but because you had to have them? Having sex on the balcony because it was there?
I remember those days from my youth (24-25). Fondly. I hope for a glipse of that again. You should consider yourself lucky that you can be reminded of the raw passion, the need, young lovers have. (Not that either of y’all are either old or lacking passion, but you know what I mean.)
thinksnow, do I remember that? I’m livin it! I’m 28!
Let’s make it clear…I dig fucking the most, cats!
I’ve already said that I’m jealous.
I just don’t know where these people are finding the time. Don’t they have jobs and pets and responsibility and the like?
I mean, last night for instance, I had to: shave my legs, watch Kerry Wood pitch, do six loads of laundry, clean up the kitchen, set up the new printer AND keep up with the Penguins game.
I was referring to a particular time in my life (when I was engaged and we were basically living together.) I was not saying that it is not still the case on occassion. As it happens, I move so often that I’ve not really been able to have the sort of relationship I had lo’ those years ago, but when I do, Katie bar the door, I…well, you can read what happens in my earlier post. Christ, I was a Marine, a rugby player and a long-distance runner, I know I can manage a few hours a few times a day. The question is, can you? <insert raised eyebrow smilie>
<sheesh>
As for you, jarbaby, and your “WHEN WAS I SUPPOSED TO HAVE SEX?”
Try this: [ul][li]have hubby shave your legs[]Watch Kerry Wood pitch on your stomach, hubby behind you.[]Have hubby carry you around, then lean against the machine while you* do six loads of laundry*.[]Get naked, suds up the floor and counters and clean up the kitchen so to speak.[]Take a break to set up the new printer,[]then turn the tv toward the stairs so you can ride hubby andkeep up with the Penguins game. *[/ul][/li]
Problem solved. You’re welcome.
