Now that this whole ordeal is over with, what the hell do I blog about?
5 Minutes Of Random Thoughts:
Start. Having sex in your parents' house is only kinky the first time you do it. There's something sensual about not being able to make any noise. You become totally aware of your partner's body... The way he breathes through his nose in bursts. The smell of his skin as you bury your face into his neck. The soft- "Oh my God we're having sex on my little brother's bed!" The realization that you're "doing it" where a 14 year old usually sleeps. If there's a Hell I'm sure there's a special place in it for awful big sisters. Do you think it would be obvious if Hoop and I buy him new sheets when we move out? Is this really any worse than my Mom donating the bed my littlest brother was conceived on to me and then telling me about it later? I would have been perfectly fine with her not telling me about it EVER. My roommates always said it was the most comfy bed they'd ever felt. I should have wondered more how they knew that. Ew. There's a reason why the saying doesn't go, "If (these walls) this bed could talk..." Same with toilets, underwear and tissues. I live with four men now. I hear enough about shit, balls, and boogers thankyouverymuch. But shoes? Shoes could be nice. End.
Golden Sporks: I've decided to have a blogger appreciation day of sorts. You all have been so supportive and understanding over the last few