I was trying to live vicariously through a friend the other day, and asked him if he'd gotten any action lately. (As I, obviously, have not. Hmmm. Maybe if the "pimping Sarah for work" thing is successful, I might expand the program: Get Sarah some action! Let's see, the bribe could be contingent on the satisfaction of the experience.... a nice friendly date gets you a selection of cookies, multiple orgasms gets you the entire cakes section of Baking With Julia.)

(Oh crap, my parents read this thing. Nothing to see here, mom and dad. Move along. To, say, the next entry, when I'll probably be talking about work or my cat instead of sex.)

Ahem. ANYway.

In answer to my fishing for vicarious life-like stuff, I got this reply:

Funny you should ask about taking hotties back to my apartment. Just last weekend random I had random hottie's tongue down my throat at a bar in my 'hood, and he wanted to come home....My innocence (what's left of it) was preserved by the fact that earlier that evening I had finally begun to reorganize my CDs so I couldn't bring him home because I had 800 discs strewn about my bed. And, frankly, they're just too important to dramatically sweep off of the bed onto the hardwood floor...

My friend and I have radically different ideas about proper housekeeping, and so at first I scoffed at him for passing up some action just because his home wasn't presentable.

Then I remembered hooking up with someone in Hong Kong and bringing him home, only to realize that I'd had trouble figuring out what to wear that night, and the entire contents of my closet were on my (very small, half-a-child's-bunkbed-setup-with-a-yoga-cushion-type-mattress) bed. There was much embarrassed pitching of things to the floor, and he called me a "right mucky pup" after that. I assume -- I hope -- it was just in reference to my housekeeping.

Whimper.