Awwww, yeah, baby. I've been inspired by my blogger friend Swistle to post this piece (of shit). It seems that many a mom is suffering through some sort of sexual, uh, inefficiency on the home front. Be it an over-driven husband, and under-horny one, or some sort of don't-you-dare-touch-me-with-your-fucking-eyes wife issue, we're all sort of there at some point or another. I'm not sure of one blanket solution for everyone, but I think I had an epiphany tonight about mine. Are you ready?
Back in my BC (before child) life, I was a corporate bitch-handler like most of you out there. A lot of my hours were spent handling business by phone. On dozens of occasions (literally), I had multiple clients of mine allude to the fact that I apparently have the perfect voice for phone sex. Do you see where I'm going with this? Funny thing is, I worked in the science industry with high-academic types or salesmen, yet they all had this same weird notion. So, I think I should start a 900 number. Extra cash, horny guys, PROBLEMS ALL SOLVED! Well, that would be assuming that I had the client list of the Hollywood Madam. I don't do the underlings.
Oh, and I'm not serious about that, but it is pretty entertaining.
On my own home front, the Chrysler strike deadline is Wednesday morning. So, for those of you who want to send a letter of support, please address it to your local Congressman/woman and tell them to fuck off if they voted for NAFTA, thank you very much. I'm not bitter or anything, nor am I all hot-under-the-blue-collar for the UAW. I just don't like this crap.
Well, that's all better. More bullshit later...