The best sex, never happens...

It seems like the best sex in the world, is not sex you have already had... it's the sex you COULD have had but for whatever reason, didn't. Your parents walk in, your house starts on fire, your wife chokes on a skittle... pick a whacky event, and it's likely to have stopped the greatest sexual event dead in it's tracks.

This past holiday weekend, we spent Saturday night in Wisconsin Dells. For those not familiar with the town, it's basically the biggest tourist trap Wisconsin has to offer. Waterparks a plenty, amusement parks, touristy downtown area... you know the type. Our family owns a vacation home in a resort called Christmas Mountain there, and we spent Saturday there and stayed over night.

Hell week had ended. What is hell week? The one week during the month in which a man gets nothing from his woman. Well, I shouldn't say "nothing", that's not fair, but not much... not as much as usual. So, as can be imagined, after this week, the sexual energy in a nympho man (pardon the oxymoron, but I'm trying to paint a picture here) is causing temporary insanity.

Saturday night we spent the night in a tent in the backyard of our little trailer/vacation spot. Sleeping on an air mattress. It makes for a nice, quick sexual experience to relieve the tension, but it's not going to exactly out-do the fireworks coming from the rest of the resort...

Fast foward to Sunday night though. No friends, no family, our own house... a half bottle of Amaretto, a wealth of Jaeger Bombs, and a 12 pack of Leine's Amber Light, etc. THIS is what firework shows are made of, if you catch my drift...

So, we're sitting around, watching Days of our Lives, drinking heavily and getting very, very drunk. And the deal is, I have to watch this crappy, weird, obnoxious soap... and during the commercials, well, I don't have to watch this crappy, weird, obnoxious soap... Still with me?

So by this point the Amaretto is gone, 3 or 4 Jaeger Bombs are gone, half the Amber Light is gone... and we have to shut all the windows to keep the neighbor kids from congregating outside...

I'm of course the happiest man alive by now, I'm thinking this is going to be the greatest night of my life, so I do what any man does, and I go to the kitchen for another beer... let the dogs outside... stumble around the kitchen in a blurry haze...

Enter Amy. Choking. On a skittle(s). Scary moment... buzz gone... sexual energy, mostly gone...

Dear Skittles (Mars, Inc.),

I HATE YOU! YOU RUINED MY FRICKEN LIFE!

Fricken idiots...

peace,
nick