Multiples.

Okay, first? My birthday weekend.

It rocked.

We went to the Goo Goo Dolls/Counting Crows concert. It was awesome. I think I screamed the entire time. My husband had a hard-on through the concert from my boobies bouncing up and down for the length of the performance. Then, we went straight to the beach. However, there was no horizontal mambo, because I drank so many vodka's and cranberries at the concert that I was in major barf mode. My husband, the smarter of the two, stuck to Red Bulls and Vodka. That makes you drunk, but energetic. He could projectile vomit while running the Boston Marathon. I could only dry heave in slow motion.

The next morning, we had breakfast at Waffle House, the staple breakfast of the hungover and the house of worship for all necks that are red. True. I think if you walked into a Waffle House any given morning, there will only be 10 teeth in total...and not all in the same mouth either.

Hottie had chocolate chip pancakes, double order. Apparently, I hadn't satisfied the mans sweet tooth the night before. Oh well. I had a bacon, egg and cheese wrap, otherwise known as "heartattack in a tube". I like them, because I go down on them. It's fun. I love watching all the old men staring at me while I perform fellatio on my bacon egg and cheese wrap.

Sometimes, I squeeze it hard, so the cheese spurts out. You know, the money shot.

We spent the rest of the day on the beach soaking up the sun. It was an amazingly beautiful day. We saw a dead fish floating by. It made us want seafood.

We went to the Lobster Pot and had filet mignon and South African Lobster Tails. Supposedly, they are the best in the world. Sweet and decadent. I don't care either way. I just love sucking tail out of the shell. The filet was yummo. For desert, my husband had what I call "God Gizm". He prefers to call it Creme Brulee. I think it disturbs his manhood when I call it by my moniker. I had the New York Cheesecake. It can also be called "orgasm on a plate with whipped cream". Tasty.

We went back to the room and had much sex. Much. More than any one person should ever have in their lifetime. So much, it was greedy. We felt we should give some away to the poor and the underprivileged. We went out and got gas station/convenience store food at 3am. Then, we had more sex. We were a virtual sex soup kitchen. DNA flew everywhere. I think the carpet may be pregnant.

The next day, we finally got our lazy asses out of bed around 2pm. We went to the beach. It was pouring. We didn't care. We went into the ocean. I mean, if you are already wet from the rain, why not be in the ocean, right? So, we did. We frolicked about in the rain. I didn't put on my bathing suit, so I pulled off my shirt and swam in my bra. I was afraid someone would try to harpoon me, mistaking me for a humpback whale...but no one did. Well, my husband did, but that was kinda different. He is now a sperm whale by definition.

If you ever want to know why the ocean is so salty...blame us.

I really don't remember much else. Back to the room. Showers. More sex. Television. More sex. Food. More sex. And then, sleep.

Monday morning, we left at 11am. We stopped at Waffle House again, because we are edgy like that.

The weekend was positively exceptional.

Coming back to reality was so...not. Hotband had to leave first thing Tuesday morning (see post below) and it really made me sad. Then, I realized how annoying he could be and I got over it. Now, I'm fine.

Today, the hotband called me at work. Text messaged actually. It said:

"You and Me.
Sunday Night at 7:30
Rent"

I'm thinking...the Rent? I already paid it. What the hell is he talking about?

This blonde moment brought to you by a lack of sleep. What a tardmuffin.

The fucker bought us tickets to go see the show "RENT" at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center! He may be annoying, but he is annoying with very good taste! How exciting! Another weekend outing! Woo hoo. The rockstar is back out before the paparazzi. *waves/waves/waves*

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Are you watching the show "Weeds" on Showtime? If you aren't, you should be. You will be privvy to moments like this one:

Two men discussing how horny they are. Very, very stoned men commiserating with one anothers lack of sexual activity as of late.

Andy (the mooching brother in law): "Things with the wife slowing down, eh Doug?"
Doug (the forever stoned accountant): "Used to be wild, I mean, intense. But, how do you ask the woman who makes your children their lunches to lick your balls and spread her ass like a geometry compass? How, Andy? How?"

Can you truly afford to miss must see TV like this? I think not.