This week's cover of "Ici Montreal" asks the rhetorical question: "Les Monstres ont-ils peur du Sexe?"
Heh. Apparently not. Happy Day after VD, les amis. The monstre's two-month hiatus is officially over, and all my muscles are pleasantly sore.
I...can't...think... And I slept poorly because my freshly cleaned sheets smelled of him... Word to the wise, boys, "escape" is not a happy scent to leave on someone's pillow.
I'm a little confused, actually. I don't *like* this guy, any more than a respectful appreciation of his strength and physical power. He's nice and sweet and volunteers with a whole slew of charities, and the fact that he drives a pick-up truck (yeesh) is forgiveable cuz he uses it to transport his kayak. But... When he wanted to make me a pipe-cleaner flower (turns out he stopped at a pharmacy on the way home for pipe-cleaners, not condoms), or when he asked me if I'd ever been in love, or told me just as he was flipping me over that I have a beautiful face...
Something smelled wrong. I'm not going soft, am I? I don't think so. Maybe I'm growing cold.
But hey. I'm back in da game. I'm also thinking of developping a young boy fetish like a certain lady friend of mine. Holy shit... They just keep going and going... No more 30 year old men for me, no sir.
I'm going to be a spinster that orders pizza just for the pizza boys, aren't I?
That's okay. I like pizza.
As for you two beloved whiners, Lady and CakeBoy, s'been a busy day, okay? Guess who forgot the root password to her own OpenBsd machine and has spent all morning trying to hack into my very own box?
Oh no, sir, not I, I would never do anything that clumsy.
Well, maybe...
Either way, I still love allayous. :)