As you probably already know, I am all about the love. I'm just bursting forth with love, and a love to share that love with all whom I love.Yesterday, my Papi and I had the blessed chance to enjoy a few rare moments of some sacred alone time in our boudoir. Just the two of us, without any long legged toddlers in our bed kicking us, or fighting us for our pillows. Never one to let a golden opportunity pass by, I provocatively posed for Papi by laying across the bed, a come hither expression upon my face. I strategically placed my hands on my hips, and had my fishy kissy lips all puckered up, and ready for action. Of course, the seductiveness of my glamorous "Geek Squad" T-shirt coupled with the infamous monkey socks of yore, undoubtedly added to the passionate ambiance I was trying to create.
Papi moved closer to me, our fully clothed bodies NOT sweatily writhing around, nor was my voluptuous bosom heaving while he anxiously ripped open my bodice with frenzied fingers. Wait. Okay, I've only read one Harlequin Romance novel in my entire life, but it left a lasting impression on me. Papi did indeed move closer to me though, and then the primal growl started up within me. Yes, I needed to fart. Always one to fully embrace my natural side, but also ever so thoughtful and considerate, I gently leaned over and placed my hands over Papi's ears while I let the monstrous gas rip loudly, echoing throughout our bedroom chamber. I bravely shielded him from the deafening noise, but my generosity didn't stop there, oh no. Once, the awkward moment had passed, I then sweetly pinched my fingers around Papi's nostrils so that he wouldn't have to deal with the flatulence aftermath. Hear No Evil, Smell No Evil, is what I always say.
Obviously, filled with uncontrollable desire for me, Papi weakly said, "Girlie, you sure do know how to set the mood." And the skeptics claim that romance is dead. Pshaw!
14 comments:
poor, poor papi.
Elastic, I thought that boudoir etiquette demands that in the event of a partner letting rip in the marital (or other) bed the said patner is duty bound to pull the covers tightly over the head of the other partner thus ensuring they can savour fully the heady aroma.
Read your marriage licence it is clearly set out in the Dutch Oven protocol!
A harlequin romance doesn't seem very Infidel-like anyway. That was very much more you.
Keep the spirit alive, I say.
YOU ARE A GODDESS! I know that's not news to you, but I just had to say it.
May the farts be with you.
I fart therefore I am.
That's a nice tagline for ya.
That was very sweet of you to cover his ears and nose, I'm going to have to remeber to do that the next time I fart during foreplay.
Yes mullet, but then to know me is to love me. The fart thing is just an added bonus!
carrot jello- I came with a warning sticker stating that the contents inside were highly volatile, and explosive. So, you don't need to feel sorry for him, he knew everything about me before marriage.
jams-Oh, they may call it The Dutch Oven over in the U.K., but I call it a "Dutch Treat."
mullet- Only root beer.
syar- I'm a romantic at heart, and in fart.
melody!!!!- As a nurse, you probably don't giggle over bodily functions anymore......but you should.
christo- Duly noted. :)
carronin- Just showing off my softer, less hardcore side.
LOL Duthc Treat.. I will tell that to the not wife as she is about to stick a carving knife into me!
I had not deard the expression until I watched a John Waters film called Pecker
It appear to me that I don’t check this blog in an hourly basis I miss some crucial piece of information. Information that could in the future serve as something important, information that I can use in my daily life, information that somehow I’m destined to receive.
And so, I open up my arms and received this bounty of information.
Some may say it’s too much.
I say it’s just the right amount.
No wonder Papi loves you, you're quite good to him ;)
jams- Gives a whole new meaning to asking your date if she/he would like to go "Dutch Treat" with you for the evening, huh?
NCS- I'm acronym impaired, and I don't understand the meaning of T.M.I.
mimo- I'm only nice in the month before Christmas in hopes of a great present. After Christmas, I revert right back to my usual crabby self.
That was awesome... there have been times I have had to clench with all my might - my sweetheart would not have handled it as well as yours.
My three year old is sitting on my lap asking, "Is dat funny, Mom? Is dat funny?" Yup. I'm laughing out loud. You old fart, you.
on the run- *sigh* You had me with the words, "clench with all my might!" So poetic.
Julie- I aim to please. I fart to please also.
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