Saturday, May 22, 2010

Is That Yer Clutch Or Are You Happy To See Me?

Sometimes, when I have a hyper, silly moment... things get ranted about and rambled upon... that are just strange. Tonight, Viror and I discussed vehicle sex. And I don't mean like, Transformers porn. I mean like, fucking in a car.

Countless rockers have written songs about carfucking. Nickleback did it. Meatloaf went on about it for about 8 and a half minutes about the subject. Motley Crue, Loggins & Messina (and then Poison revisited it), I could go on... and that's just rock music. Sheez.

But WHY? I never found car sex to be all that awesome. I mean, there's a seat belt buckle digging into My back, the window against My feet is FRIGGIN COLD, My head keeps hitting the door. Fun times! Wait.. what? Or there's the chiropractors wet dream of Me doin it in the front seat, Gods forbid! My spine is packing it's bags just by Me blogging this now. Sweet crispy christ!

People make jokes about it. Songs are sung about it. It's portrayed in movies and videos. But am I the only one who thinks that car sex sucks? Give Me a nice, comfy, huge ol' bed. Thank you very much!

Ok, I can understand the Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures things. Frustrated teens having to take their sweaty couplings to the car because the folks are home but... damn. Thank you, adulthood. You have given Me responsibility, maturity, the ability to buy My own booze, the right to vote, no curfew, and NO CAR SEX.

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