monday mornings are like...

cold gravy.
or wilted flowers.
they're even a little bit like the slow ache of a pair of recovering blue balls.
monday mornings are like velvet--moth-eaten, stiff velvet.
monday mornings are like the first few days of getting used to wearing a thong.
and they're definitely similar to getting a flat tire on your way to the airport.
monday mornings are like a really bad kiss.

what?
i love mondays.
i'm just thinking of the rest of you, who hate them.

it was a wonderful weekend.
lots of fun, lots of food, and (purely for the sake of aliteration--i SWEAR) lots of fucking.
it's strange how much my life revolves around sex.
sometimes when i'm at the gym, or the store or something i look around at all the people...
and i wonder:
are they as consumed by thoughts of sex as i am?
probably not.
but then i wonder if they're having the kind of satisfying, crazy sex that i am...
and the answer to that one is another "probably not".
sad.
i'm really not what i would call a "nympho", i'm not--just for the record...
but i do enjoy sex--even bad sex, although it's been a realllly long time since i had any of that.
actually the last...uh...encounter before i met my husband would fit that category.
and that was my only one night stand, too.
AND it really pissed me off, because
nevermind.
anyway, the point is, george michael has it right:
sex is natural, sex is good--not everybody does it, but everybody should.
hahahahahahahaha.

i'm on crack.
go away.