All right, People! some attention my way if you please & a little sex too.

edited to add: this first half is in reference to the previous post!

It’s a dice game. You know, like shootin’ craps. You throw the dice and watch ‘em roll. Well, in this case it’s an electronic handheld version. This particular version resides on the back of the beautiful throne of this queendom. It stays there. This throne is it’s home. This electronic handheld game is a necessary part of the natural process of crap-o-lution. Don’t you get it? Sheesh. Like in football when they score - Touchdown! or in soccer - Goooooooooaaaaaaal! or baseball - Homerun! Or back to the dice, People, when shootin’ dice and it’s not so nice it’s - Craps! But me, I was just trying to be nice, that’s all.

Yahtzee! Ah.

A little congratulations please. A pat on the back maybe. I’m beggin’ here. See, I’m down on my knees.

Ok. enough of that. I can’t do that anymore. Hows ’bout we talk sex! Yeah boy! How about that? Today I received an e-mail from a dear friend. One that surprised me a little when I saw what was there. Stumped me? NO. Embarrassed me? No. Caught me off gaurd? No. Although I did spit my regular drink of choice (Route 44 size, add the cherry) all over the computer screen. I really didn’t know she had it in her. You know, said friend did tell me back ’round Christmas time that witholdin’ a little hey rompin’, sweet lovin’, splendor in the grassin’ or whatever you wish to call it, might get me what I want. Maybe I’ll be a little more myself in the presence of these wonderful people. Maybe, maybe she’s just now willing to share a few thoughts with me seeing as we’ve only known each other for not quite a year now and really only recently have we spent a great deal of time together. Maybe I’ll let my sarcasm out to play a little more. Maybe. Maybe.

But I digress, hows about we gets back to our discussion about sex. See, SmockDaddy has a speaking engagement tomorrow with some other homeschooling families. He’s got to give a little lecture to a tough crowd. He’s had to study and research and make sure all his i’s are dotted and his t’s are crossed. He’s got this heavy load of crap to deliver. Oh, phooey, he’s teaching the high-schoolers in the History Co-op we just joined and he’d never deliver a load of anything but good hard facts to these wonderfully intelligent children. So what’s my point. The e-mail was a link. A simple little link. It went something like this:

To: the SmockLady
Subject: Do your part

tell SmockDaddy “you’re welcome” from me.

I mean really! If only he were nervous about speaking in public. He’s a preacher, People! A Preacher! He talks to lots of people all the time! And it’s not because he likes the little outfits. He doesn’t get nervous! I wish he did - then I’d be a reeeaaal good distraction. I can bring home some bacon. Fry it up in the pan. And nevah, nevah, nevah, nevah let him forget he’s a man. ‘Cause I’m a Woman.

Tagged as: sex, SmockDaddy, TMI