(ie. things your married friends have to tell you because croftie's romances-on-tape don't really tell it like it is):
the husband had our fireplace going when i got home last night. i was not at all turned on, but instead inspired. people have sex by the fire! it is something you are supposed to do! scores of women are "lain down by the fire" daily! chef from south park sings songs about it to the children, even. i thought, this must be something spectacular and we must get on this train! ...so not worth it. it was like lovemaking in a little tiny hell. never do it by a fire. you will pass out from heat exhaustion if you are not careful. consider yourself forewarned, oline.
33 comments:
Um.....
I feel as if I have strayed onto the wrong blog.
the blog of my pervy twin.
sexolineNthecity.blogspot.com.
tee hee! you made the bombsy blush, i tell you!
i could get myself in trouble in so very many ways right now.
What's sad is if it is a Franklin person, I'm fairly sure I know who said that.
Funny side note of things not to do with your significant other: Do NOT let him benchpress you when he says he can do it. You will fall off the bed. It's next to impossible to benchpress a person. Especially one who is laughing.
the person who said this has been granted immunity in the oline in the city sexprotection program. the individual's identity will not be revealed.
LG, way to refrain.
meggie, you crazy kids.
as a random aside, i have just discovered that if you want to make perm smell, burn a bowl of oatmeal. tho heaven knows why anyone would want to make perm smell.
you can burn oatmeal? That's like the episode of the Simpsons where Homer tries to cook some food for himself in the kitchen and every appliance he touches explodes into flames including a bowl of cereal right after he adds some milk.
indeed, the oline can burn oatmeal. in the aftermath, the vieve has literally crawled under a blankie to escape the stench.
Have you burned butter yet? That was a new low for me.
i'm not sure about burnt oatmeal (i like to think of myself as skilled in the ways of oatmeal...cream of wheat, not so much), but when it comes the fireplace...well, let's leave it to a line from Indiana Jones, shall we?
"he chose...poorly."
the stupid electric stove would be to blame for the burnt oatmeal. over a gas flame, there's a glorious breakfast in under three minutes. on an electric stove, it takes an eternity and inevitably there's a stinkify boiling over.
on the sex by a fire front, i think the practicality probably comes down to the extremity of the climate. if one were in florida in november, probably a poor choice. in an igloo in alaska in january, probably also unwise due to the risk of meltage. but in a proper construction with the appropriately subfreezing temperature, perhaps it would be slightly more pleasant than a little tiny hell. still, i've been warned.
People in the throes of passion make surprisingly unwise decisions, I find, generally beginning with location and timing.
true that.
Word.
Word to ya Mama.
she'd got all the words she needs right now, but thank you, sentiment noted.
All of a sudden Oline in the City has become SexOline in the hood. Perhaps 'the' should be replaced with 'da' but i'm so far removed from the street that i can't even fathom writing a sentence like that, let alone saying it.
that's it. now somebody has to write a thug life satire entitled Sex N da Hood and featuring a lot of "passion scenes" on the asphalt of a car dealership. would make a great follow up to evil man smells baby and stabs snowman.
Girl, thug sex doesn't happen at a car dealerships! Rather behind liquor stores and at house parties. I had alot of ghetto friends in high school....
don't forget the landings on flights of stairs in apartment buildings...
Right-o Doug-o!
i was making a cheesy pun about hoods.
so laundramats, right?
I got your pun, caro. But the phrase "thug sex" is my new favorite funny thing today.
i'm pretty sure that's what whitney thought she needed when she hooked up w/ bobby b. eww...
I never thought that "thug sex" would be one of the more popular topics of discussion on Caro's blog. It boggles the mind.
Caro, going to NYC!
i like to keep my readers on their toesies. y'know- a speck of black nail polish on a number 9 inscisor here and some random fireside thug sex encounters there.
who has the song about whitney and bobby? clem? remember nothing about it beyond its unspeakable awesomeness.
yay for NY, meggie. when's your ball?
The ball is Saturday night. Yay! I'll send pics of the cute couple. I'll have to find one there. *LOL*
Hey, we got the wedding while we're in NYC (Not mine!!) so I'll send you a picture of this skirt I'm thinking of buying. It's J. Crew.
Oline in the Hizzah!
For shizzle. And I will say this unashamedly: I used to think the phrase "shizzle my nizzle" meant something dirty.
it doesn't?!
ahem:
"Fo' Shizzle my Nizzle"
translates roughly in to "Yes."
(Literally) "For sure, my Nig*a."
often used as an incredulous corrective repartee as in "Why certainly, how on earth could you think otherwise?"
Yep. I was completely school. And in other tidbits, apparently "junk in the trunk" does NOT mean that you pooped your pants!
i don't think anyone can top that. this blog entry is officially closed!
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