day two

It really is all about one day at a time for this sort of thing. I do not want to completely stop smoking marijuana. Frankly, my life is not exciting enough to take away the drugs just yet. It's week 5 since I began to diet, and I've noticed that I only shit every couple of days. It's also week 2 since I've begun working out on my bowflex, and I am well on my way to becoming hot. Birdman is about 3 feet away from me, wearing my red and pink striped baking apron singing Sublime's "Wrong Way" very badly, and just about as loud as humanely possible. At least he's doing the dishes. Apparently, he updated his blog today, I don't know what he's said, but it better be about how much he wants to lay it into me. Something tells me it's not about that. We haven't done that in a couple of weeks, and before that we hadn't done it in months. But don't let Birdman know I told you that. He's got a little problem getting the noodle up. If he were a clown, I could use a balloon joke analogy, but then again, if he were a clown, we wouldn't really have much of a relationship. In fact, we wouldn't have one. I'm just kidding, he's got a nice, big, thick, hard dick that works perfectly fine. It's really all my fault. Our sexual problems are all my fault. See, I get tired at night, and cranky. And I always know when he wants to do it. After he brushes his teeth, he drops his man panties, and then does this crazy thing where he'll flick his boxers up with his foot, and his limp dick does this nasty little jump, and it seriously freaks me out. Then he'll get into bed, and we'll nibble and bark at each other (this is the absolute truth, we're the couple that "dog talks"), and then I'll do my 'hot five year old' voice, and say "Oh daddy i'm tired!" and I think it freaks him out as much as the boxer thing does to me, and I'll just continue using the 'hot five year old' voice until both of us are too tired to hit it. I would blame the marijuana, but the first three months of our relationship, we did nothing but smoke blunts and fuck all over the house. I think it's the futon. Our sexual problems are all the futon's fault. Who wants to do it on a futon, you know? It's really sad. We have a perfectly good bed, but it's king size and it doesn't fit in our tiny little bedroom. Literally, if we put the bed in our room, there would be absolutely no more space left. Our bed would be the room. Like...a bedroom. Hmm.