Prior to meeting my wife, there had been many women I had wanted to have sex with. Many.
Clearly, as the adult writer of a blog, I wasn't all that successful, but it was never for a lack of trying. Being that I didn't drink/smoke/sniff glue or whatever, I always had to play the long game, as chance encounters were few and far between. For my wife, I pulled out all the stops: poetry, thoughtful gifts (maybe a mix tape or seven), ten-hour AIM chats across five time-zones, you name it. Hell, I once filled my entire apartment with red and pink balloons (like knee deep) so we could spend Valentine's Day getting high off of the smell of latex together. Aw, sooo romantic (/corny).
What a waste of f--king time. Literally.
Turns out all I needed to do to hump her for hours was kidnap her and throw her off a goddamned boat.
Oh Getter, look what you made me do. See, one of my blogging heroes casually mentions one day that she just watched a terrible movie filled with female nudity, and for the desperate proprietor of Two Dollar Cinema that's essentially like cranking up the f--king Bat Signal. Except instead of a handsome millionaire descending into his cave of weaponry and technology, it was an old fat guy shuffling off to his basement with a journal and a box of tissues.
Just kidding. I didn't bring my journal.
Oh, dear reader, that was (mostly) a joke, which is fitting, because this f--king movie is utterly (and unintentionally) hilarious. Like an hour and fifty-five minute commercial for cologne for your boner, 365 Days is quite possibly the most inexplicable phenomenon I've ever laid my pathetic eyes on. Imagine 50 Shades of Grey [review] minus all the subtlety and nuance. Or if a European sex robot managed to write a screenplay. However this was created, after watching it, you end up f--ked. Hard.
Clearly, as the adult writer of a blog, I wasn't all that successful, but it was never for a lack of trying. Being that I didn't drink/smoke/sniff glue or whatever, I always had to play the long game, as chance encounters were few and far between. For my wife, I pulled out all the stops: poetry, thoughtful gifts (maybe a mix tape or seven), ten-hour AIM chats across five time-zones, you name it. Hell, I once filled my entire apartment with red and pink balloons (like knee deep) so we could spend Valentine's Day getting high off of the smell of latex together. Aw, sooo romantic (/corny).
What a waste of f--king time. Literally.
Turns out all I needed to do to hump her for hours was kidnap her and throw her off a goddamned boat.
 |
| *shakes head* Yeah, I don't think so. |
Just kidding. I didn't bring my journal.
Oh, dear reader, that was (mostly) a joke, which is fitting, because this f--king movie is utterly (and unintentionally) hilarious. Like an hour and fifty-five minute commercial for cologne for your boner, 365 Days is quite possibly the most inexplicable phenomenon I've ever laid my pathetic eyes on. Imagine 50 Shades of Grey [review] minus all the subtlety and nuance. Or if a European sex robot managed to write a screenplay. However this was created, after watching it, you end up f--ked. Hard.
