~erotica~
I really needed to pee. Like really. Like dancing outside the bathroom door, holding my crotch, needed to pee. And for some fucking reason, he was taking a shower at 1am. 1am! Who the fuck showers at 1am?
He didn't hear me knock over the running water, so I had a decision to make. I weighed disturbing him and having an awkward situation over pissing my boxers outside the bathroom. I figured he'd understand if only for not forfeiting our security deposit.
"I'm sorry Columbus, but I have to pee." The room was filled with steam, a normal occurrence for the both of us. Hot showers, living in the apartment together, and his sister were probably the only things we had in common.
I raced to the toilet and gratefully relieved myself. I could barely make out his figure in the shower as I finished. It wasn't until I stood that the steam parted, he turned around, saw me, and opened the shower door.
Even through the haze, I saw how delicious his physique was. Columbus was a firefighter, and only spent half his time in our apartment. He trained every day he was here, running on the treadmill for hours at a time. The weights in the living room were his too. I knew he was fit, but holy shit... Milk chocolate skin, dark brown eyes, an eight pack, strong arms, stronger legs. Who was this man living in my home? How had I not seen this Adonis under my roof?
Oh yeah, he was my best friend's brother. I just never thought to, well, look. We were roommates out of convenience, orchestrated by his sister to both our and her benefit, and the arrangement went well. We barely saw each other, and when we did it was cordial but noncommittal.
However, standing in the bathroom, his naked body before me, wet and glistening, the last thing on my mind were polite gestures.
As I took in the wonderment of his body, I then realized he was sizing me up too. I had needed to go so badly, it didn't occur to me that Columbus had never seen me in such a state of undress. I wore the aforementioned boxers, which were short and hugged my ass just right. I also wore a tank top, gray, body hugging, no bra. I then realized my nipples were hard and most likely visibly erect to him.
Something else was also becoming erect.
We stood there looking at each other for about thirty seconds before I turned to walk out. I wanted to fuck him. I really wanted to fuck him. Fuck, I wanted to fuck my best friend's brother.
Holy shit, I needed to leave. As I turned away, I felt his hand grip onto my wrist. I stopped in my tracks. Turning back, I saw the look on his face, the wanting in his eyes. I saw him lick his lips, those full lips which I now imagined on mine.
"Shit." My hands found his face as I rushed into his arms for a kiss. My sleep clothes moistened with the water against his body. His hands found the small of my back and my ass.
He pulled me into the shower. The warm water only intensified the heat between us. He pulled off my now incredibly wet clothes. He pushed me against the wall. He bit my neck. He pulled my hair. He slid his hand in between my legs. He lightly bit one nipple; he sucked the other. I started moaning.
"Shit." I lifted a leg and wrapped it around his hip. He lifted my body against the shower wall. He pounded his hand into me, harder, deeper.
"Shit." I got closer, closer to it, that intense moment when endorphins raced through my body, ripped my abdomen in half, and I would scream not only obscenities, but his name. As I got closer, my breathing increased, but so did his. Normally I'd have my eyes closed, but his stare was fixed on me and I didn't want to let it go.
"May I..." He inserted another finger. I gasped.
"May you what?"
"May I cum for you?" A wide smile spread across his face. Did he know about orgasm control? Did he know what I did with the people I brought home and quickly ushered into my room? Did he know about me?
"Hmm..." Oh no, even if he didn't know, he was tormenting me. He may or may not be in the scene, but he already had a feel for topping.
"Please, please let me cum for you. Please Columbus." His thumb sped up its motion on my clit.
"Cum my little slut." I finally closed my eyes, gripped my legs tight around his hips, and rode his hand hard. I screamed loudly, "Thank you, Columbus. Oh, fuck, thank you. Shit. Oh God. Oh God. Columbus." Since we were in the shower, I don't know if he noticed me squirt.
After my orgasm, he slowly lowered me down. He stood six foot even; I looked up into his eyes from six inches down.
"My room or yours?" His question was simple, yet full of subtext. I lightly caressed his quite erect cock.
"Mine." Yes, he would soon learn all the fun things I liked to do, and loved to have done to me. Yes, he would fuck me, but did he know he would also beat me, tie me up, slap and punch me? Did he know what he was getting into?
Oh well, his dick was hard, I was horny, and it was only 1am.
It wasn't that we didn't love the scene that was going to happen, but in the moment, it was that we both needed it.
Both Murphy and I were exhausted. We'd barely gotten any sleep between the Bomb-iversary and leaving for FetFest. While Dov had passed out in my back seat during the ride, Murphy and I had chatted for all the hours down to camp. He had wanted to make sure I stayed awake. I had appreciated the company. We had talked about this and that, but we'd also decided we would have a scene that evening.
Neither of us got a nap before night fell. There were sprinted hugs to give, gifts to handout, takedown practice to administer, people to meet, an opening ceremony, a Waffle House run, and random rope-y fun-ness to be had.
So, when I came up to the Rope Village, because again I was dumb and didn't get myself in a cabin by with my friends, Murphy and I both needed a jolt. For him, it was something to kick start his event, to help him find a passionate spark to the weekend.
For me, it was a grounding, a coming back. I had already pushed through fatigue, an emotional struggle through my walk at the Labyrinth, and Green Eyes whispering horrible notions in my ear. I needed comfort, centering, the love I share with my family of friends.
So Murphy and I were about to go to the dungeon to make ourselves right when fate tempted us. We peaked our heads into Cabin One and found EmberOfSerenity, Gray, And Janice all naked on a bed and inviting us in. The struggle, the shear will to pull ourselves away from them was excruciating. But we did, myself securing a rain check for cuddles later in the event.
During our walk to the play space, Murphy spoke on how the feel of Fet differed from Rope Camp. He could already sense it would be closer to fireworks (fits, starts, pops, flashes of play and fun), as opposed to Rope Camp (a long, smouldering extensive burn). I thought this could be good for him, a challenge to adapt to his feeling yet still make this event his own.
Taking our place under a wench, Murphy had me remove a little bit of clothing, but basically kept my school girl outfit in tact. I'd worn it because I knew he loved this particular look.
He tied a chest harness on me, our connection immediate and strong. He attached me, for the first time, to the hard point on my side. He lifted my left leg and worked on securing it to his ring. But I faltered. I didn't keep my balance. He caught me, brought me back up, and righted my stance.
I giggled even as I almost went topsy turvy towards the floor. Murphy got me standing and encouraged me to be strong in my right leg, to find my center. I held the position until he lifted my right leg and had me floating sideways.
My giggling and smiling continued. He brushed his hand on my cheek, then punched my chest. I floated counterclockwise. After a full rotation, he again punched me, this time in the other direction. I drifted; I relaxed; I flew. My smile would not go away.
Slowly he lowered the wench until I softly landed on the blue mat. He untied me; we hugged; I felt like me again.
Once again my friend Graydancer wrote something that got me thinking; I know, shocking. Read his entry, then read my thoughts which came to mind when I pondered "What recharges me?".
- When I'm driving, alone, often on my way to see friends, but occasionally on my way to work, I'll just sing. I'll sing loudly and proudly, and probably badly, but I let go. For the good songs, I start car dancing, rocking my shoulders and hips back & forth. Usually I'll end up speeding, dashing through traffic with cat-like skill and precision (yes, I know, not the best adult behavior). Always, always, I smile throughout.
- When there is no one in the house, and I feel relaxed and at ease, I wash my toys, put on my masturbation playlist (what, doesn't everyone have one?), and I don't just masturbate, I fuck myself. Best of all, I let myself scream.
When I'm coming, I love to scream, usually the name of the person helping to facilitate my fun. When I'm alone, though, I call out Daddy along with a multiple curse words or deities. Sometimes I entertain the idea of audio recording myself during my fun, but I never have. That time is mine and no one else's (well, one other person, but I haven't met him yet).
- My sleeping buddy is soft, squishy, and oh so hug-able. At night, when I'm naked and under my covers, I press him against my chest, run my face on his fur, and drift off to sleep, Cabin Shell watching over me.
- This blog is a testament to my love of writing. However, there are words that I put on paper that you will never see. I carry a small brown journal where I jot down thoughts, ideas, worrying questions, wondrous dreams, and any other fucking thing I please.
One night recently I finished my blog early and still found myself writing before bed, this time in my journal. Beyond processing, it is my special pages, my mind on paper, expelling all the swirly words that need to not be in my head anymore.
- After I finish my run or my yoga DVD, I always feel better than when I started. My exercise is not a New Year's resolution, but more a means to an end. If I work out, my rigging improves. If I work out, I like the way my body looks more. If I work out, the endorphins get me high. If I work out, I like me more.
Once, I processed some emotions while on the treadmill, broke down crying while I jogged, and quieted myself before either of the roommates saw. I pushed through not only the pain in my legs and chest, but also the pain in my heart. Feeling it thump in my torso, breathing heavy, exhaustion at my heels, I am over run by the accomplishment of getting my ass off the couch, out of bed, or just up and doing something.
- Happy Hour, lunch at the mall, or just chilling in their homes, being with my friends is sometimes just the salve I need to heal my loneliness, boredom, despair or doldrums. It's not the alcohol, or the cute baby (though my niece is super awesome), but the time I get to spend with my chosen family.
The long meandering conversations, the catching up, the highs, the lows, the new, the old. It's telling my kinky stories or hearing about their annoyances at work. It's about introducing new names into their lexicon when it comes to those I care about or about learning what new passion invigorates them. It's about meeting new people and cherishing all those who are already there. Above all others, being with my friends, whether for four days or four hours, renews and recharges me.
So, what recharges you?
I spent most of today in a hospital. I came to the need of a friend, sat by their side through the slowest waiting room ever, many doctors, many nurses, more waiting, and lots of questions. In the end, my friend was discharged with no new answers but much less pain.
It is a cliche to say that people have negative feelings around hospitals. But, for me, the first half of my life was spent in hospitals. My mother is a medical secretary. I've heard stories of me falling asleep under her desk, waiting for her to get off work. From sixth to eighth grade, I walked from my school to the hospital and waited in the lobby for her til 5:30pm. I did my homework, listened to my Walkman, purchased snacks in the cafe, candy from the gift shop, sometimes wrote, and often napped. I had a couch that almost everyday was my couch. That hospital was warm and inviting to me, a comfort.
That feeling began to change my freshman year of high school. Uncles died in a hospital. I visited him only once. By then he had shrunk, withered to almost nothing, just skin and bones. He died at about age 90. Our visit with him, my only visit with him in the hospital, was his last before his passing.
Granddaddy was next. We called 9-1-1 after he had an apparent stroke in our home. It took two or three men to get him down the stairs and out the front door. We waited in the emergency room for half the night until he was admitted and my mother took us home. He survived that ordeal but his life was forever altered.
He was no longer the big, strong, imposing man who had picked me up from elementary school, carried me in his arms down the hill for my birthday party, and occasionally squeezed my knee. His first night back at home both my mother and I had to clean him up after he soiled himself. He died my senior year of high school, while I was on spring break in Puerto Rico. His funeral was the day I came back. I am still so very thankful my mother saved me from that experience.
Aunties passed my junior year in college. She too wasted away until no one could deny she needed to go to the hospital. And, once again, my visit with her was one of her last.
And then there was Ella.
I don't fear hospitals. It's just I haven't been there for happy moments since my childhood. I didn't attend my niece's birth. And, save new life, are there any other happy reasons to go to the hospital?
When someone is sick, when you are tasked to care for them, everything in your life is brought into perspective. So many things seem insignificant, little, petty. Every move, every thought, is full of awkward anxiety. Remembering everything I wanted to do today, and figuring out when I could do it later on in the week. Wondering how long the ordeal would last. How bad it would get. Hoping it would get no worse.
When I drop into the mindset of caregiver, I often drown out most of my thoughts or any inclinations for myself. I skipped breakfast and didn't eat lunch today til 2pm because I worried about leaving my friend's side. I snuck in a work email while they slept only because I was a day late in responding. All I wanted to do was sleep, but I kept myself awake just in case. I didn't dare pull out my book until they informed us of the impending discharge.
And, just now, I got a phone call. In my mind, all I could think was, "Please may it not be from X. Please may they still be okay."
I worry. SkinnyBitch tells me I worry too much and should stop. If I knew how, I would.
For now, distraction. Yoga, shower, playing with the dog, and Happy Hour. However I'll have my cell phone always by my side, hoping it doesn't ring, but still there just in case.
This was not what I planned, not at all. My living room was in disarray. I'm sure my neighbors thought World War Three was happening over here. I'm quite shocked the cops weren't called. Lying in my bed, resting in his arms, the fresh scrapes on his knuckles starting to scab over, admiring the content look his face. No, this was not what I planned.
The fighting didn't take long to start, to my great astonishment.
David finally let go of my hand when we approached my front door, seeing as I needed it to get my keys out of my pocket. He remained between myself and Charlie as we entered. As I flung off my shoes and put my jacket aside. As I hung up their coats. As we actually raided my fridge; left over Chinese was our meal for the evening.
We all sat at my breakfast bar, not speaking. As I finished my few bites of combination fried rice, Charlie broke the silence, commenting on my modest abode.
"Nice place."
"You haven't seen most of it." David had seemed tense since I made the suggestion of the impromptu meal. His unease was now obvious, singing behind each of his words.
Charlie slid his hands over David's shoulders and began massaging. David quickly flung his friend's gesture away.
"I guess that means I should give you two a tour." I put on a big smile, hopped off my chair, and opened my arms wide like a ring master.
"This is my study, with my desk and a nice window that looks out on the back alley.
"This is my living room with my Ikea couch, four year old television, and old lamps I found at Goodwill.
"This is my bathroom. Please ignore the filth; the maid is on vacation.
"And this is my bedroom. I have a queen sized bed, seeing as I like to stretch out." I stood on the bed and began jumping. "And I have plenty of room to flop." I let myself fall on the mattress giggling loudly as I bounced. Charlie laughed loudly. David smiled.
Charlie moved as if to get up on the bed; David grabbed him by the arm. Charlie flung David's gesture off this time.
"So this is my humble home." Neither man looked at me.
"Are you two okay?"
"We're just fine," said Charlie.
"Actually," began David, "Will you excuse us? We need to talk privately." I could see Charlie's teeth clinch. David gestured towards my bedroom door. Charlie turned, quickly relaxing his face, flashing me his signature smile again.
"We'll just be a moment," he said before walking out the door first. David followed, and lightly closed the door behind himself.
I don't know why they bothered leaving my room, though I'm grateful my bedroom furniture was left out of the melee. My walls might as well have been made out of paper. I heard every word, and every blow.
"What the fuck was that?" seared Charlie.
"No, not this time. Not with her."
"What the fuck do you mean 'not with her'? She's just another piece of ass from Happy Hour."
"She giggled."
"She's a girl. You know, the kind that tends to love sucking your cock."
"I thought that was just you." Charlie didn't connect with his swing. I heard choking sounds, presumably from David holding him by his neck. "I am so tired of being your bitch. I am so fucking tired of your game. No amount of blow jobs is worth having to be around you anymore."
The shoe print on my wall where Charlie pushed off was perfect; no smudge at all. The impression left by David's shoulder blades was not. I lost a lamp with that exchange.
"You wannabe James Dean motherfucker." This time Charlie connected. The blood from David's nose created an interesting constellation on my carpet. "If not for me, you'd still be alone in the corner of the bar waiting and hoping for someone to come talk to you. I picked you. I fucked you. I made you the hottest piece of ass there is after me."
David rushed Charlie, slamming him into the wall by my bedroom. A few picture frames dropped to the floor. I think it was Charlie's elbow that made the small hole.
"You selfish asshole. I loved you. And what did I get for it? Watching you fuck someone every week and calling it poly. You never loved me; you don't know how love. You barely know how to fuck."
When Charlie tripped David, his head thankfully missed my coffee table, instead bouncing off a sofa cushion and landing on my carpeted floor. As they rolled on the carpet, they bumped into the stool holding my bonsai tree. The little thing tumbled to the floor, but I have faith it will recover from the trauma.
"You whiny little faggot," screamed Charlie.
"Oh, that's rich coming from you," sneered David.
"We're done."
"Yah think?" I believe I heard Charlie spit on David before he left. Charlie slammed the door on his way out, shaking the walls.
After a moment, I heard a light knocking on my bedroom door.
"Um, come in."
David's clothes were rumpled, and his nose was dark red with dried blood.
"So, was this what you had planned?"
I sat in shock for a moment, unable to find words. David started to laugh.
"I remember seeing you your first night at Happy Hour. It was the last night I'd gone before work pulled me away. Since Charlie was gone, I had quietly eased in. No one took notice as I sat in my corner and just watched." As he spoke, I saw why Charlie had compared David to James Dean. He had the perfect brooding look about him.
"When you walked in, there was just something about you. It wasn't your clothes or your demeanor, but that knowing look you had. That's what made me remember you.
"I watched as everyone gave you their Charlie and David stories. I saw the devilish grin that crept across your face. So when you played coy that day a month ago, I knew you were up to something, though I don't suppose the past few minutes was what you had in mind."
"Hmm, no. Though something similar, maybe." My devilish grin reappeared for him. He laughed again.
"May I lie down for a moment?"
"Of course."
David tentatively got into my bed and set his head on my pillow. He looked at me, studying my face.
"Thank you."
"Um, your welcome, I think." He closed his eyes.
"I was ready to go. I just needed a little push." I don't know why, but I lightly rested my head on his chest. He wrapped his arm around me.
"I guess this means no more Charlie & David; no more storms."
"Oh, there will be a Charlie and somebody soon enough. I, however, am going to enjoy my retirement."
"Retirement? You're not playing anymore?"
"No, I'm not Charlie's wing man. Speaking of play, what are your limits and what are you doing in ten minutes?"
"That's cute Rocky, but how about we wait til you're not bleeding on my sheets."
I woke up to the smoke alarm around noon as SkinnyBitch and DeepEnd prepared food for the kids. I couldn't go back to sleep.
I hung out with the roommates and the little ones before they had to depart. One child, as I stood in the kitchen drinking fruit juice, wrote me a note: "I Love you crustin". I helped the tiny humans pack up their things, hugged them all goodbye, and teared up a little as the car drove away. The house was quiet and empty without them, but only for a few hours.
SkinnyBitch started cooking for our dinner that night. I ran to the grocery store to pick up the supplies she still needed. When I came back, Alice laid on one of the sofas. I ordered her to not get up. I grabbed a blanket, covered her, closed the curtains, and turned off the lights. She said she didn't think she could close her eyes. She slept until our friends started arriving.
As SkinnyBitch cooked, I cleaned and helped setup tables and chairs. When we were to a point that I could steal away, I went upstairs to take a shower. While getting ready, I had my first transportation text of the evening. I shuttled three people from public transportation hubs back to the house. I also fit in a quick run to pick up mixers for our bar.
When I did begin to settle into the party, I found myself at the bar pouring people drinks. This was when we realized we needed ice. I made one last run to the grocery store and parked in such a way that I would not be blocked in; I didn't want to risk having to go out again.
When I returned, 16lbs of chill in tow, all of our guests had arrived and most everyone was eating. DeepEnd, thankfully, had whipped up a batch of his Long Island Ice Teas and set it aside for me on the bar. I poured a glass and tried to calm myself back down.
People chatted; I poured more drinks. Eventually I got food, but ended up eating it in fits and starts. DeepEnd & SkinnyBitch, in their dual Dexter shirts, carved the two chickens SkinnyBitch had roasted while I took pictures and feasted on the skin. People mixed and mingled. For some unknown reason, it took me a long time to get into the flow of things.
Eventually, around 9:30pm, folks said they were ready for cigars. I brought down my kit, graciously suggested those who did not want to be caught in the haze should depart, and finally started to feel at ease. Stripping down, I found myself in the middle of everyone, my bootblacking kit set up and my humidor ready to serve.
Four men, including DeepEnd, ManKraken!, and ThreeWay elected to enjoy tobacco that evening. I let each choose his taste. I then unwrapped, wet, cut, and lit all four cigars.
Once everyone was puffing away, I turned to DeepEnd's boots. I gave them a thorough cleaning before getting on my knees and loving on his leather. As I kissed and caressed, he reached down, massaged my head, and scratched my back. As a friend watched on, she asked why he was using his hand as an ashtray. "Just give her a few minutes. Then you'll see why the little bit of pain is worth it."
Once I completed my worship, DeepEnd presented my treat. I ate the ash from his hand. Occasionally he blew smoke into my curls. (I had, in fact, washed my hair to remove the straight locks just in case cigar service was on the menu for the evening.) As has become our way, we ended our moment with a small kiss.
I completed his blacking with a thorough treatment of the leather with shoe grease. As I worked, DeepEnd mentioned he read yesterday's blog, and said the party sounded fun. Once again, I forgot people, including individuals I know, read what I happen to share with the world in this forum.
When I finished with DeepEnd's boots, he informed me ManKraken! was waiting for me. I turned around and saw ManKraken! had a hand full of ash. I ate the morsels from his palm. To his right, ThreeWay was also ready. I licked up the flecks from his hand as he quietly moaned.
ThreeWay commented on how much he enjoyed my work to his fellow cigar smokers. DeepEnd also complimented my skills. ManKraken! said my eating of ash felt like getting a blow job on his hand. "Yeah, it's like getting a handy, literally."
With the cigar service mostly ended, I gave quick bootblacking service to two other individuals whose leathers needed work. I remained on the floor, naked, taking in the party, finally relaxed.
The 1st is RockStarIsis's birthday. A round of birthday spankings broke forth. As she was bent over a chair, taking her licks, I whispered to DeepEnd "hockey stick." He asked SkinnyBitch to retrieve the implement. DeepEnd traded all 27 of his licks for one swing of his hockey stick. RockStarIsis took her blow, cursing for some seconds afterwards. I softly rubbed her ass to soothe her.
I don't know who opened the first bottle of champagne, but I will gladly take credit for how most of us drank it. I asked to partake of my share of champagne in the hip hop video fashion. I tilted back my head and waited for the liquid to be poured into my mouth. It dripped down my face and onto my chest, but also into my eyes. I shut my lids and calmly asked for a napkin to save my eye sight for the evening. Many people after me enjoyed the beverage in this way. I loved inspiring fun for others.
I stayed naked until it was time to give the last rides home. For the majority of the rest of the evening, most of us congregated in the living room and talked, or surrounded all the food on the dining room table and ate. The festivities ended around 2:30am.
Now that was a fantastic way to start a new year.
My New Year's Eve, in moments.
- I sat on the floor of my room, naked, talking to SkinnyBitch as I straightened my hair for the Dark Odyssey New Year's Eve party. SkinnyBitch laid on my bed, unable to sleep; it was her intention to take a nap, but it just was not happening.
After watching me struggle with my inferior flat iron, she finally asked, well pleaded, to let her finish the work. I sat, cross legged, grateful for the aid and the time I got to spend with her as she hovered above me helping me get ready.
- "Are there any cop cars around?"
"No, I don't see any." I flung a banana peel out my window onto a median full of grass.
"Why exactly were you concerned about the cops being around? What would they have charged you with?"
"Um, littering?"
"Littering. Yes, littering while in the operation of a vehicle."
- It is a blessedly wonderful moment when suddenly you are the soft squishy center of a sandwich. No matter how brief, the encounter is always delightful, especially with good friends as the bread.
- After she'd tied me up, beat me, fucked and fisted me. After I came a few times, and we giggled while we cleaned up. After our night had truly begun, Slut and I stopped for a moment, hugged each other, and said how happy we were to see the other again.
- Standing by the kitchen island in just a tie, my necklace, and my school girl shoes, I asked, "Should I put my clothes back on?"
"I think you look wonderful in what you're wearing now."
- [Text messages]
"Happy New Year!" - me
"HAPPY NEW YEARS MY SWEETHEART. JUST GETTING OUT OF CHURCH. BE BLESSED." - Mom
"Happy New Year!" - me
"Happy ya know, thing" - DeepEnd
- As I prepped my bootblacking kit to work on N3rddom's boots, the handle for my saddle soap broke off. I was so baffled, I didn't quite understand what had happened. Not a moment later, MrBlackBeard stepped over, took the saddle soap from my hands, and, with his muscular arms, pried the can open. "Gotta use these arms for something."
- "I have never had my boots blacked before. There was no one else I wanted to do it other than poeticdesires."
- As I laid on the floor, loving on N3rddom's boots, I felt a caress down my back. His hands ended on my ass, punctuating their arrival with a loud smack. He warmed each cheek multiple times. Then he began punching my back.
Just as I was about finished loving on his leather, with the new coil of rope he had just purchased from Twisted Monk, he hit all over my back, multiple tendrils of stingy pain shooting across my skin.
- He handed me the half finished cigar. "I want you to save this as a promise for us to finish it later."
- "Are you sure I'm suppose to be turning left? This seems like we're going back the way we came."
"It's the internet. The internet is not wrong."
"And that's the house. Yup, we have gone in a circle."
- "Why are there so many people in this IHOP?"
"It's New Year's."
"They all look like they just came from church."
"They probably did. It's called a watch service. Just in case of the rapture."
"Yup, and none of us look like we're saved."
- Around 4am I happened to check my Twitter feed, beyond just posting the hilarious tidbits of our IHOP conversation. It seems me mentioning one little dream involving cigars and a beautiful woman sparked an entire conversation I completely missed, to my great disappointment.
And yes, we shopped at BJ's. I agree, because it is me, this was quite funny.
- "Did you see her, the girl in the pink dress? It was not a dress. I swear it was a shirt and she just kept pulling it down."
- "I finished the book."
"Really? How did you like it?"
"It was okay. The secondary characters weren't developed well and the ending was abrupt, but I liked the main characters. The thing that bugged me though was the sex. You read a thousand pages, a thousand pages to finally, finally get to the sex, and you basically get a brush off. I wanted more sex, dammit."
"Yeah, that book is basically just an excuse for rape."
"Oh my god, yes. Ten pages, rape. Ten pages, rape. And the one time when she was like, 'It's not spine-y?'"
- "How's it going lately in the house?"
"It's been good."
"Good. Yeah, you are now in the community."
"I was in the community before."
"No, you were in the sex and fun and play time and now I'm going to my home alone and getting some sleep space. Now you're in it, you're all up in the community."
"Yeah. Well, even with the aggravation, the trade off is worth it."
Bedtime: 7am
