Free fucks galore

Because I’d much rather sit here, chainsmoking and eating honey-wheat pretzels dipped in raspberry-wasabi mustard instead of housecleaning, I figured I’d blog till my brains fall out. Which should occur in approximately five minutes. The brains falling out, that is, not the housecleaning. 🙂

One of my purchases this weekend included scandalous underthings that are safely tucked away in an “in case of emergency, break glass” kind of hideaway. Presently, I am debating about taking out a personal ad: “Have new sleazy underwear. Want to break them in. Free fucks galore if you promise to leave before daybreak.”

Speaking of free fucks galore, my dreams have been inherently (and almost disturbingly) sexual. Could it be that I am a newly crowned vibrator peddler? Anyone from male colleagues to the hot server/dancer at Coyote Ugly have popped up in various degrees of undress in my dreams. In last night’s dream, I was in the parking lot at work in the aforementioned scandalous knickers with someone I should not be thinking about in that kind of way. The dreams always involve me getting close to someone but then pulling myself away and running for daylight — much like most of my relationships. If it doesn’t feel 100 percent right, then I can’t do it. There are people I fuck and people I love, and it’s always mutually exclusive like that. Will it always be that way? I may never find out.

On iTunes: Dave Matthews Band, “The Space Between”

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