I know I write a lot of stuff about stuff I don’t understand because OMG there’s sooooo much of that and so little of the stuff that I do understand, and now I’ve got another one for you: food and sex.
Does not compute.
Here’s an image for you so you can see where I’m going with this: Mario Batali in a teddy.
SEE? That’s what food + sex is for me.
They DO NOT go together. There’s your proof right there! And before some smartypants gets all up in ma grill and comes over here to tell me that Giada De Laurentiis in a teddy is proof that food and sex in fact do go together, I say “shuttie. uppie.” and present to you this sort of yucky picture of her rolling around in spaghetti sauce:
I rest my case. I didn’t even have to bust out Julia Child, God rest her sweet soul.
And don’t get me wrong Toy with Mes! I love food. I think about food as often as most men think about sex. In fact, while I’m eating, I’m already thinking about what I’m going to have next time I eat. Based on my extensive observations, it’s the same way with men and sex. In fact, someone should do a study to find out if women think about food as much as men think about sex. I think it’d be worth doing, right, because most women I know would rather eat than fuck.
It is like that with your friends too, or am I just hangin’ with a bunch of Hungry Harriets?
I went to that brown bag party I was telling you about the other day. It was fun and we didn’t have to do any humiliating games. Whew. As it turned out, The Rabbi got drunk on cosmos and ordered herself a a little something that her sober self might be a little scared of, and I won a set of bondage cuffs. I always seem to leave these parties with a prize. (The cuffs haven’t been put into rotation yet. I’ll let you know.)
At some point during the party, we were asked to lick our arms which had been covered in a veritable fruit stand of differently flavored massage oils, like peach, strawberry, cherry, mint. They all tasted pretty good and stuff, I guess, but I got to wondering why they’re necessary. Judging by my husband’s appetite, I think I probably taste pretty good all by myself.
I mean, how do I even know what flavor to get? What goes good with ME? I have no idea! It seems to me the idea is to create a PARTY in someone’s mouth, not a BRAWL. Who wants to choose the wrong flavor and produce some sort of culinary abortion like chocolate pudding on pizza, or taco ice cream? Those are some great tastes that do not go great together! But somehow, having one before the other is perfectly fine. Just like food and sex!
I guess I kinda understand how people get all jazzed about a little whipped cream or whatever in the boudoir because sex is delicious, whipped cream is delicious, put them together and you have a super-delicious doublefecta! You also have a sticky mess, but I guess the sex was going to make a sticky mess anyway so who cares? Throw in a little of that sticky flavored massage oil and it’d prolly just be easier to push the bed out the window and start over. You might as well add a four-finger scoop of Crisco while you’re at it. My problem is that I’m lazy. Once my bell’s rung, I want to bask in the afterglow and drift off to la-la-land. Swapping out the rubber sheets and mopping the floor is NOT on the list.
My husband tells me this is why we need to do wall-to-wall tile in our scary red carpeted porn basement. He wants to put a drain in the center of the floor, of course, for easy hose-down. He can keep on dreaming about that one.
Some people really like to overdo it and they just take it way, way, too far and get into the really pervy shit like ass smoothies and fat lady food orgy porn. Can you imagine making your lovah a nice morning smoothie in your butt? I guess you wouldn’t have a pain in the ass blender to wash out afterward? That could be good. Or you could pull out a chicken leg from between the rolls of your belly, rub it on the barbecue sauce on your thigh, and feed it to your husband. Convenience!
Some OTHER people (and you’re gonna shit when I tell you that my daughter’s play kitchen vegetables just made me think about this) like to put actual FOOD and whatnot up inside their nether-belows. I bet the local farmer’s market is a veritable orgasmifest for those people–a wonderland of toys! Imagine the poor farmer sitting there with her lovingly grown produce, just beaming with pride as a horny young couple fondle and fuss over the thickness and length of her vegetables? They’d buy some carrots and small cucumbers to warm up with and move onto maybe a banana, then a squash, and end with a zucchini. The best part is that the toys become dinner and in these difficult economic times, it’s best to re-use whatever you can. Just, rinse, chop, cook, and serve it up for a post-coital snack. Butt zucchini for all!
Anyway, those are my fascinating thoughts on food and sex. What do you guys think? Did anyone find the Giada marinara picture sexy?