When The Husband (TH) and I decided to get married, I knew it would take place in the Catholic church. Even though he is a lapsed Catholic, he wanted to get married in a church (READ: he's a Mommas boy and she made him). I was afraid I'd have to become Catholic before they would let me through the doors. I dreaded the three months of schooling, prepping and forced attendance every Sunday at Mass. What if I had to go to confession? I'd need at least 2-3 hours per week just to confess everything I'd done the week before. Were these guys prepared for me? Thankfully, this all took place in the height of the Catholic church scandal and they were psyched for anyone who wanted to be married in the church. We just took a 2 day "Marriage Preparation Course" and it was all good. We didn't even have a Mass. Just a quickie service with a very gay priest from Poland. I wore the white dress, I walked down the aisle and there was nary a flame in sight. Not even a puff of smoke.
I feel the true criminal in religion is Eve. That bitch didn't listen. She ate the apple, tempted Adam and ruined everything. If a snake started talking to you, would you listen? Because of her, women feel pain in childbirth (I don't have any kids, but those of you who are mothers are having second thoughts about Eve, aren't ya?) and we have to bloat, bleed and be emotional unstable once a month for the rest of our lives until we hit menopause and it becomes hot flashes, insanity and all the rest. A friend once told me you shouldn't trust something that can bleed for 4 days and not die. Of course, this friend is a man and couldn't possibly understand the trauma of trying to squeeze into a pair of pants that fit like a glove 12 hours ago and now, they won't even button.
Because of Eve, I can't have sex for four days at month. 4 days!! I know there are those of you who have sex during this time and all I can say is Eww!!! Ickiness Personified! It's not the whole blood thing or the smell thing or the fact I have to say "Hang on a minute, honey, while I remove this tampon". It's that I feel my most disgusting during those 4 days. Add on the 3 days prior where my mood mirrors that of a charging cranky rhino and you've got one week of pure awfulness. I don't call it "Going Medusa" for nuthin'
Because of Eve, I have to keep my man happy for 4 days without the use of my amazing Wooha. This means loads of blowjobs. Something I love to do, but not without gettin' a little sumthin' sumthin' for myself. I know I can whip out my buzz toys. But when you're feeling like a ball of hair caught in a drain, do you really want to try for an orgasm? It's just too much effort. It's easier to just eat a cream cheese brownie. After the second night of the time I like to call "He Gets Everything and I Feel Like a Bloated Heifer", I need to call in reinforcements. Porn. Wonderful, beautiful, sweet helpful porn. Big K, if you're reading this, I have a confession to make: I pull out the porn to make it go faster. I know you think I do it for you - to make it hotter and more naughty. Ummmmm....that's sorta true. But, if I can cut the job time down 15 minutes or so because you're gotten so hot from watching Jenna do her thing you can't hold it any longer, that's good for me. They don't call it a "job" for nuthin'. 3 days = lockjaw, baby! I love ya, but a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do.
Eve, you whore, you're not my favorite person this week. Maybe if we'd gone the Darwinian route you would have been eaten by dinosaurs and I wouldn't be picking up a new Jenna movie on my way home tonight.
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