24 Going on 50 & Sex Because It`s Always About Sex

Jun 6, 2010

So I’m sitting here contemplating the fact that I’m slowly getting old and feeble because of the damn back brace that I had to put on because my back decided to say, “Fuck you, Angel. Die you bitch, die.” It’s really rather depressing and as a result I feel like I’m 24 going on 50, if not older because I’m really not sure what the standard is for people’s backs going on. Oh God, maybe it’s 25 and I’m screwed and the youth that I thought I still had left is really just an illusion.

Christ do you hear that? Neither do I because my ears are going out as well. Though this isn’t really as a result of old age, rather a result of Jenn who decided to blast music loud as fuck when I’m wearing earbuds. Way to go bitch, not only is my back going out, but now thanks to you whoremonger, I’ve lost my hearing too.

Maybe this explains why I’m so fucking tired all the time and would much rather sleep than have sex. Yeah, I said it, sleep has just outnumbered sex on the things I need to live. Oh crap, something is wrong, quick someone help, hell has officially frozen over.

Okay, maybe I’m lying a little when I say I’d rather sleep then have sex, okay maybe I’m lying a lot because honestly when it boils down to it, I’ll push through excruciating pain for the satisfaction of sex– ask my husband who seems to have this obnoxious habit of hitting my cervix without even trying. You’ve seen images of men bawled up crying on the floor after being kicked in the balls, it kind of feels like that, well at least I imagine it does– you know after the sex part, cause the sex is great, it’s just the aftermath that hurts.

Now that I’ve effectively managed to turn myself own with lovely images of my husband and sex, I think I’m going to go do that… the sex part, not the crying on the floor part, cause that’s just not fun.

It would figure I manage to bring sex into an entry about how I’m getting old.