Sex ed

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I am the master of the double entendre

This short, silly post should not be read by parents, grandparents, brothers, small children or other living things.

Dear Mike Rowe of Dirty Jobs,
Come on over to my house. I've got a dirty job you can tackle.

No, that's no good.

Hey Mike Rowe! Why don't you come here and clean my drain pipe?

Ew.

Mike, you can sort and ship my maggots any time.

That's terrible.

Mr Rowe, you can feel free to root around in my .....

Let's not even go there.

Oh, I've got it!

Mike Rowe, please come over to my house so that my husband can thank you for the weekend long marathon of Dirty Jobs that resulted in him being a happy, happy man.

Two years ago today I had an embryo transfer.
Four years ago today I was pregnant and craving odd things.

Sex toys spell disaster

Warning! This blog deals with my sex life and therefor should not be read by anyone. Ever. Seriously. You've been warned.

I need to stop going to sex toy parties. They're turning out to be bad for my health.

I went to my first "toy" party a just a short time ago. I ordered something for myself. (Don't worry, I'll spare you the details.) My stuff came in the mail and not three seconds later I was struck down by a gallbladder attack. Intense abdominal pain and vomiting does not exactly put you in the mood.

I recovered from my gallbladder surgery just in time for my second party. This time I ordered something special for Jesse and I to enjoy on Valentine's Day. (Again, I will spare you the details.) The stuff came in the mail but Jesse and I haven't even been able to enjoy it because we've both been struck with this chest cold/stomach flu from hell. We're so sick that we're barely able summon up the energy to turn and look at each other much less drag our sick clunky bodies close enough together to do the deed.

I've been invited to another party but I'm honestly a little scared to go. What if I attend and three days later my left leg falls off? Or what if my stuff comes in the mail and as I'm bringing it into the house I'm bit by a rabid dog? Do I dare tempt fate? What if this third party is the one that kills me? I don't want to my final words to be "I never even got a chance to use my new ........"

So what should I do? Go or skip it? And if you leave me a comment answering this question I'll know you're a dirty bird who read this post even though I told you not to.