A little while ago, Mr. Rilch appeared in the office doorway to say, “You me sex now.” That’s a phrase I often hear, along with “You! Become naked!” The man is a master of foreplay ;). Anyway, I shut the computer off and went into the bedroom. I was wearing a peasant blouse with drawstrings that, since I put it through the wash with them tied, are impossible to untie. Foolishly, I didn’t take my glasses off before pulling it up over my head. Or trying to, at any rate. My glasses got tangled intricately in the drawstrings. This was a cause for much anxiety, because my frames are weak, and too much pressure might have caused the wings to come unhinged and a lens to fall out. So there I am, butt naked except for this blouse on my head, necessarily bent over, turning my glasses this way and that. It is a credit to Mr. Rilch’s gentlemanliness that he did not take advantage of that. Then, halfway through, the phone rang. Mr. Rilch reached down to plug the bedroom extension back in and handed the phone to me. I carried on a short conversation while he continued to fulfill his needs.
I feel like I was just in a Farrely brothers film.
Who was on the other end of the phone call? And are you just really good at controlling yourself during sex or did you tell the other person that you just finished a marathon and thats why you were breathing hard?
A friend of mine was painting a wall for a set in a theatre. I was doing whatever - probably avoiding work - when he got down from the ladder.
Step, step, step, splunk
He put his foot in the paint tin. And could not extricate it again without making a mess.
Of course, this is the guy who cut some cardboard with a scalpel, not realising his arm was underneath it. And the guy who was on a ladder at the very top where they say not to stand, when the catch broke and he went slamming to the floor. He’s also the guy who turned the lighting board up while one of his crew members was installing a bulb, and electrocuted him. (he lived, it was luckily a small shock)
It was a close female friend who called. I said, “Make it quick; Mr. Rilch and I are in flagrante!”
I’m female; I don’t have to concentrate during. 
Don’t have to concentrate, HA! 
How important did you think the phone call was gonna be that you had Mr. Rilch go on and plug the phone in. This also begs the question, if the phone was unplugged as not to be desturbed, why plug it back in right in the middle of the best part? 
Sorry if I seem overly interested in your bedroom behavior, but you really got me thinkin’ with your OP, and isn’t that the point anyway?
It was Mr. Rilch’s idea to plug it in, as he thought the call might be work-related. We keep it unplugged most of the time, so it doesn’t disturb our often odd sleeping habits.
I meant the phone. It was his idea to plug in the phone. :o
This happened years ago, but I think the pain has subsided enough to talk about it. I had broken my foot when I got out of my car and fell off my shoe (which in itself was probably a little slapstick) I tried a few times to operate the crutches they gave me and finally just resorted to hopping around on the good foot. I hopped upstairs one night to do laundry, and as I got to the laundry room the good foot came down on an upside down lego, causing enough pain to force me onto the broken foot, which then landed me on my butt in a laundry basket full of clothes.
Try having kids in the house.
It’s a never-ending slapstick marathon. Especially when they (might) have ADD and can’t concentrate on anything, including where their feet are going.
-Elthia
ok, I’m that way too, but that just adds to the comedy. Where’d I put my glasses? Where are my shoes? Damnit, I can’t go out without my shirt! Where’s my wallet, oh, and my keys too… groan