Last night I had a lovely time talking with my biatches (and boys you are my biatches too) on Plurk and finally fell into bed around midnight.
All was quiet in the house, some Star Trek thing was on the TV. Star Trek gets MPS all happy in his pants and Jean Luc has a seriously horny voice.
So we got our freak on. As consenting adults tend to do.
MPS was bone crushingly tired after 2 days in the city fixing something to do with computers or whatevz, that shit puts me to sleep, and I am still stuffed up with the flu, so no Karma Sutra action. Just plain ol’ vanilla.
Cause vanilla is good shit. Don’t always need the sprinkles and sparkles and
chains and duct tape other stuff.
Things are going along um, well? awesomely?… we are approaching the final scene. The orchestra is reaching a crescendo. Angels are freaking singing.
And then the smiter smites me. One last epic smiting.
Moo walks in the room.
In the fucking morning.
Those new to my madness will need to understand the gravity of this situation. Moo is not a toddler. Moo is SIXTEEN YEARS OLD and like all other teens, totally grossed out by the thought of anyone over 30 doing the nasty.
Let me draw you a diagram…
This is my bedroom. You can imagine the angle of our bodies which my poor daughters eyes would have rested.
Yeah. I don’t care if it is Brad doing Angelina. It ain’t a pretty angle.
She is all ‘Oh, um, OK’ and backs out of the room shutting the door.
I am all quiet, feeling my soul shrivel up and die a little.
MPS is quietly pissing himself laughing.
So I punch him. Like a LOT. And curse him for kicking off the blankets and exposing our bare bits to our babies eyes.
Moo is still at the door. ‘Um, Dad? Can you come here for a second?’
Turns out one of the smoke alarms batteries have run out and it is making a beeping sound. Even though it was changed a few months ago.
You bet your walked-in-on-while-humping arse it is.Magnetoboldtoo is sponsored by: