Risky Business

I had to rush home from work the other day, driven by the amorous feelings for her that fill in my head. The girl is driving me crazy and I cannot get the dirty thoughts about her out of my mind. Not that I want to dispel those thoughts, but thinking about her like that creates a certain situation (a "party in my pants" if you will) that can be ignored for only so long.

I sprinted into the house, sliding on the linoleum in the entry way and feeling very Tom Cruise as I did so. I stepped out of my shoes and pants, threw my tie and shirt on the floor, stripped off my boxers, flung myself onto the couch and proceeded to do something about it. Yadda, yadda, yadda, two minutes later I was totally exhausted. After I recovered from all the exertion I sat up from the couch feeling rather satisfied with myself. That is, until I realized that, like Tom Cruise, I too had been wearing my sunglasses the whole time. Hollywood heart throb dancing in whitey-tighties and sunglasses? That's hot. Blogger jerking off in his sunglasses? Not so hot.