P1: Morning mental boners

For the first hour that I am awake I am at the mercy of myself, hoping I can coax my mood away from the dark side. My brain is especially nubile during this time, and I choose to believe that this is part of the reason I can be such a wretch early in the morning. When my thought process is interrupted, I simply don't have the coping skills to recover and as a result am furious that I have been pulled out of my mind and into the world before I am damn well ready. So, in the ideal situation everyone around me acts as though I am not there until I approach them, so as to be sure that I am officially capable of communicating with them without fear of decapitation.
Despite the potential dangers of the early morning, often times I find myself enjoying a set of thoughts and sensations that never happen once I am more fully awake. Perhaps because I am less aware of reality, still lulling about in my subconscious, and we all know that is where the fun stuff lies. Anyway, all of this leads me to my point: there is very little in this world more gratifying than hearing the conversation in a piece of music. Not lyrically, but in the way a piece is played. If conditions are in my favor, I can actually hear the the taunting of a lover, the tension following which is relieved by a series of tickles and some heated sex, powered by frustration and a genuine lust.
When I hear the sex in a series of guitar licks, I get a charge through my chest and a little heat in my middle, the thrill of a voyeur learning something deliciously intimate about a favorite subject of my desire. So, please: if you are ever near me in the morning, please don't startle me out of my filthy subconscious. It's warm in there and the cold shock of the real world is nothing I am prepared to deal with until I have mentally boinked my subject of lust at least once.

B3: Glad I don't work for American Airlines

I went to the gym last night for the first time in about two weeks. Following a brutal workout my brother sent me, by the time I got to the last move which involved me balancing on the half-ball thing while doing a military press, I was literally trembling from my neck to my feet. Sucked.
Well, there is nothing like a good workout to get the blood flowing, especially to one's swimsuit parts. I decided to take advantage of my new resident boyfriend and use his wiener for some late night relief. On a twin-size bed shoved against the wall. Bad idea. We were like two fat kids chasing the ice cream truck; we weren't going to give up not matter how many times we had to stop to catch our breath and wipe the sweat out of our eyes. It wasn't pretty and today my legs feel like rubber.
In related news: I forgot to put on deodorant this morning. My friend had some Speed Stick in her desk, the old skool green kind, so I smell like boys' gym class 1987. Pretty.