SEX IN WATER....not as good as it sounds.

I was talking to a good friend of mine, and we were recalling some of our great misadventures together. They are many, and very colorful experiences.
One night, we were out having a couple drinks with my boyfriend at the time, (this was many years ago) and his friend. We live near Lake Erie, and the lake is a pretty popular parking spot for late night after hours skinny dipping. It's a great way to work off the alcohol. We parked at this campground, and decided to sneak onto the beach. (Park is closed after 10 pm.) We jumped a stone wall, scaled a chain link fence, and finally got to the beach. After all that, I look to my right, and we could've just walked around. (My boyfriend, the village idiot--no kidding, that was his nickname--was leading the way.) We swam, had sex on the beach, and woke up everyone in the nearby condominium. After we managed to make a spectacle, we decided to get the hell out of there.

By the way, sex in water is way over rated. It acutally sucks. They glorify it with gratuitious sex scenes in water that you see in movies. Unless you have a jar of vaseline, I don't recommend it. Any water soluable lubricant, (natural or other) won't work because everything gets washed away. Plus, if the water is cold, well....you know what happens to men's crown jewels in cold water. If you would conceive a child in Lake Erie, chances are that there would be some crazy mutation. (i.e. night vision, webbed feet. you get the idea.) They've been dumping shit in it for years. Zebra mussels have cleaned it up pretty much, but the pet alligators mixed with toxic waste are a real bitch. MAKE SURE YOUR DOG IS ON A LEASH AT PRESQUE ISLE.

We were getting ready to leave, and were sitting in the car, making out, when somebody jumped on the windshield. They smashed the hood, the windshield, and the roof of the car, (while we were in it!!!) I remember being pretty drunk, and I turned to my friend, and said, "Hey. I hate to sound like an asshole, but they didn't get my purse, did they?" She laughed her ass off, because at this time, my boyfriend is practically in tears freaking out about his dad's car. Him and his friend went off to chase the people that did this, and we waited. At one point, I felt sick, and there was nowhere to barf in the car, so I threw up in his brother's work hat. We wound up leaving the hat by the pop machine where we were parked. I hope somebody didn't find it and test it for DNA. I could be cloned and not even know it.

My boyfriend drove to the state police barracks and reported the damage while I waited in my drunken stooper in the car. I vomited in the parking lot, and thinking that I was locked IN the car, barfed in my own hair too. Pretty clever huh?

Well, I JOINED THE GYM

I did it, I joined the health club. In a million years, I never thought I would do it. My husband talked me into it and I love it.

In a decent amount of time, I will post before and after photos, but only after my after photo is presentable.

I never realized how comfortable women are when they're naked around each other. I have made some locker room observations. Here they are:
1. Nobody's boobs stay above their elbows after 38
2. Most women have thinning bushes
3. Even though you try hard to maintain eye contact, you wind up glancing, and notice other people glancing at you too.
4. If you want to hear women's real secrets, be a fly on the wall in the sauna.
5. Old people are the least shy of anybody.

I will update the list as I see necessary.

The thinning BUSH thing though--shit they never tell you THAT in gym class. I've even noticed that mine has gone from 70's afro, to receding hairline bed head. What the heck is going on. And--you always see gray hair on heads, you never really realize that your pubes will be gray too. So, do you start dying it?
It doesn't matter anyway I guess, you can't notice it in the dark. I just keep taking my husbands beard trimmer to it, hoping I'll get some of the natural curl back. (If he knew, he'd probably kill me.) It's like trying to trim steel wool. I wonder if it's because I'm Italian.

Hello Everyone

Well, it's been a while since I posted. Time to lighten up. I've got writer's block and a one track mind sometimes. I tell myself, it's just the syndrome.

Hmmm...

One time I went to a football game with my aunt and uncle. It was such a big deal because my cousin was playing for Slippery Rock at the time. I remember eating chili dogs in the sun all afternoon. I don't know what the hell kind of meat it was, but boy. Something bad happened. I could feel the gurgle.

A smell eminating from my orphus was uncontrollably letting itself out. No matter how hard I squeezed the cheeks, it escaped. (I call that the silent but violent fart. You can then blame it on anyone because there is no sound to implicate you.) I knew at this time that a visit to the bathroom was eminent. I tried not to run, but eventually sprinted, probably faster than Carl Lewis on drugs.

I couldn't get to the bathroom fast enough, and when I finally sat down, it's like somebody pulled the cord on an emergency parachute. (I also call that potty spraypainting.)

The smell, sent off for chemical analysis, and still not yet known to this planet was awful. You know it's pretty bad when you can't stand the smell of your own shit.
(I wonder if there's a name for that phenomenon? I mean, not gagging at the smell of your own body smells. Here's a word for that--SELF IMMUNITY)

Thank god I was the only one in there. After I relieved myself, I went to grab the toilet paper. None. I crab walked with my pants around my thighs to every stall, hoping to find a remnant of something. Not even a freaking paper towel. I sat down and looked at my underwear. Well, there weren't any shit stains in them, I didn't want to waste them. Then, I looked at my socks. Dammit. They were new. That crisp clean brand new sock. I took my shoe off, and proceeded to wipe my ass with my new sock. Sitting there trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do, wearing just one sock, I took the other one off and put it in my pocket. Maybe I would need it for later.

Now I find myself buying tube socks. They're longer. Don't try this with peds. You're bound to get shit on your hands.

AND NEVER NEVER NEVER TRY THIS WITH PANTYHOSE. It would have a straining effect, again, your hands smelling like shit.

let's play SHIT PURSE

Ok. Here is one of my favorite all times gags.
WARNING: THE FOLLOWING STUNT WAS PERFORMED UNDER CONTROLLED CONDITIONS, AND BY NO MEANS SHOULD IT BE ATTEMPTED BY AN AMATEUR.

My neighbor was telling us of tales long gone by from her childhood. She told us about how she would take her mother's old purses and fill it with dung. (Any kind) and leave it in the middle of the road or sidewalk for a passerby to pick up. Any normal person seeing a bulging purse anywhere is bound to pick it up. It's like gluing a quarter to something in a public place. Each is priceless for entertainment value, but it seems that the purse filled with shit makes me laugh so hard, I cry.

We scoured my mother's closet for old purses. Leather, canvas, anything. We had horses and sheep and chickens, and dogs, the list goes on. Oh yeah, the worst besides chicken, CAT. Ugh. We filled the bag until it was bulging. Set it in the road. And waited. Time ticked by, and since we are such a bunch of hilbillies with nothing else to do on any weekend afternoon, we watched. Not only were we watching, we were taping. Finally, an innocent passerby (another hilbilly) took the bait.
Reel 'em in slow Charlie.
You see them pull over, look to see if anyone saw them, and they open the bag, "HOLY SHIT!!!!!!" And they throw the bag down. We laughed so hard that my cheeks hurt. Since the driver didn't take the purse, we didn't even have to reset the trap. At one point in time, two drivers in opposing directions both pull over to the right to get it. HAHHAHAH. Then, some hucklebuck in his shiny red camaro pulls up. He picked it up and drove away with it. About a quarter mile down the road, you see him chuck it out the window. This provides hours of cheap fun. Believe it or not, even this got boring. So I came up with an idea to put a twist on "Shit Purse".

SHIT PRESENT. I filled a 6" X 6" box up with shit and put in a chicken fetus for good measure. Then carefully cut the seams while simutaneously wrapping it in festive birthday wrap, complete with curling ribbon and a bow. It was so heavy. We set the trap, and in no time we had our first victim. Two girls in a four door crapper. They drive away with the present and my brother runs off to his car with my sister-in-law. (Not the satan-in-law that you've read about in my other stories.) They are taping the whole thing. When you watch the tape, you can tell that the girls are at first sitting close to each other, and then they must open it, and of course it falls apart like it is designed to do. Then they are sitting as far apart from the middle as humanly possible without opening the doors. My brother speeds up to get the expression on their faces and while taping, realizes that it's our neighbor and her friend on their way to work. Whoops.
If you are doing this and taping close to the road, make sure that you are not wearing an easily spotted color. If they do spot you run like hell, because whoever it is is pretty pissed off because not only do they have shit on their hands, but now they know who did it.
I would reccomend doing it on a sidewalk, you are not as easily spotted, and it is much less dangerous for other drivers.
Ah, Country living.