Sexy Sex Sex. And Moving.

I moved house this weekend, which was an exhausting thing. Moving ranks up there with losing a loved one and getting married as one of the most stressful life events*. It also doesn't help when a pipe bursts in the apartment above and floods your boxes with suspiciously yellow water. Nor when the landlord keeps you waiting three-quarters of an hour outside the now- empty apartment for your deposit. Next time I move, I'm hoping to be able to afford some burly movers, or in the very least henchmen, to carry all my stuff for me. As it was I had to rely on my Hottie.

There's something sexy about a man carrying heavy things that you can't though, isn't there? as feminist as I am, and as much as it pains me to say so; the mere fact of a man's genetic tendency towards denser muscle mass makes me go all gooey. Also, when they bend over, in nice jeans. Mrowr. Ahem.

Which brings me to the sexy sex. Sex. Apparently you're all obsessed by it. The whole planet is. We're either doing it, watching it, talking about it, condemning it, chasing it, planning it. Some people believe if you enjoy it too much you're destined to an eternity of suffering. That seems a bit harsh, considering it's a bit of rubbing and some endorphins. Probably, they are worried about the nakedity. Personally I don't think god would have made it so nice and so much fun if it was such a terrible sin. That would be incredibly petty and warped of him**. Her. It. I digress.

There's this theory that if you can think of a fetish, no matter how bizarre, then it is being indulged by at least one person in the world. So, people who get off on having goats watch them pee on strawberry icecream? We're on to you. And now I know there must be people who like to wank to old episodes of Knight Rider-- but only the KITT scenes. You never can tell about people, can you? Sometimes the quiet ones are the ones with a Shetland and a rubber chicken suit in the back room. And the ones who posture and pose and talk about their prowess are... well... mediocre. I'm told.

Sex though, eh? Silly, when you think about it, but a fun way to spend an afternoon. Here's wishing you all good, healthy, refreshing, fun, funny, tiring sexual relations. The type that makes a stressful life event all better.

* I did occasionally pay attention in university.
**yeah, that's right, religious sex-haters. You just called God warped and petty. I don't think he'll like that much.