River Rats

*this part of the blog not intended for children*

Last month, I went to the river with some friends and neighbors (and a bunch of people I didn't know.) [I started to write this shortly after our return, but never posted it, so forgive me for the old news.] Even though I was still recovering from my horrible tummy affliction and therefore was not imbibing as much as, well, pretty much every body else, I had a fabulous time. There were a whole lot of wasted people on this adventure. I think I had 4 beers the whole weekend. Most of the rest of the crew had 4 an hour.

We stayed in these bad-ass cabins right on Canyon Lake - each cabin had room for 12 people to eat, sleep, bathe, and party. And party we did. There were flashlight strobes to highlight the dancing on the porch, and I think at least 9 people crammed into the hot tub at one point. There was even a Ron Burgundy wannabe contest. Well, not really, but this guy definitely won.


So on Saturday night, after a long day of floating and drinking and getting sunburned, a group of us, mostly girls, were all hanging around inside, enjoying the AC for a bit. Although the party is still in full tilt, the Hostess (who later that night broke her nose when someone tried to pick her up and she fell flat on her face - that was fun, and a whole nother story...) starts cleaning up a little. Somehow the conversation goes toward the inherent connection between cleaning and sex. (?) Apparently the Hostess is quite energized by sexual encounters with her husband, and likes to clean post-orgasm.

Jay, a small, yet very entertaining guy, was walking through the cabin to grab more beer and heard part of the conversation, so he decided to throw in his two cents. "Man that's awesome. I need a wife like that. Every time I wanted my place clean, I can just grab her and say, 'let's do some fucking so we can get this place straightened up!'" He then made a lovely little hip thrusting gesture and walked back out on the the porch, as we sat giggling at his wierdness.

Then the blond chick sitting next to me, who hasn't said much in a while, comes back with the most fabulous retort. "Poor Jay," she says. "No wonder he isn't married. He still thinks that orgasms come from fucking."

I laughed so hard that I snorted.

I can't wait until next year.