This hasn't been a problem for me as I have been turning down offers of sex for four years now. (In order to clarify that statement, I mean sex, not fooling around, there has been enough of that on a regular basis to satisfy me.) Now, however, as the desire for actual sex rears it's ugly head, I find myself worried about being adequately prepared. I have only one, maybe two, CD's of sex music and very little on my computer that would satisfy that situation. I have The Richest Man in Babylon by DC's own Thievery Corporation and a CD of Late Night Tales as selected by The Flaming Lips. The first album needs no introduction and if you haven't heard the thieves then you have been living in a box, or at least not watching Garden State. The second album is a compilation of music for late night as chosen by the Lips. It has a cool cover of The White Stripes' Seven Nation Army by the Lips, too. Kinda neat. As cool as this is, it only amounts to about two hours of sex music. I think the standard sits around four hours, as some variation and accommodation of taste must be made. I am woefully unprepared.
My younger brother has untold hours of sex music. I could just take his collection and duplicate it, but that would be like duplicating another man's porn collection. Not kosher. Sex music and, by extension, porn say a lot about a person. I am not my brother, thus I must not duplicate his music. Since, he is in Slovakia at the moment, I can't even listen and get some ideas of what I like or what, the currently hypothetical, she might like.
I need to prepare a budget and just start logging some hours at the stores listening. Melody Music in Dupont seems like the place.
I haven't had sex in so long that everything is sex music to me now. It's pathetic.
Me-yow! Even Green Day's newest album of pop music for our parents?
I have already broken my rule and read the prologue of Knife of Dreams. I am now anticipating that nothing will happen until the last three chapters.
Maybe I will be proven wrong by this book.
Dude, Mazzy Star for mellow, cuddly nookie.
Mr. Airplane Man for sweaty shenanigans.
Your douchebag arrogance works better than Jedmunds, and I like Jedmund's a lot. You could have potential. Potential to have me comment again. White background bloggers have always been at war with dark-background posters.
It's only arrogance if it's undeserved. I call it class and confidence.
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