Furtive Tuna

Do you remember when you first discovered masturbation?

You were probably living with your parents at the time. And you became like a superspy, finding ways to conduct your covert operations. You may have used everyday objects to experiment. Shower massagers, aquariums, (in my case) electric razors.

Where is she going with this?

Do you remember how it felt, both exciting and dirty at the same time?

That's how I feel about blogging right now.

My father is only a few rooms away. But I can't help it. I'm addicted. It feels soooo good.

I haven't really blogged in days and days. I have a lot of shit stored up.

But much like a teenager sitting in the living room with her parents, this stuff is going to have to wait to come out. Satisfaction is still a few days away. Oh, the peace and satisfaction of solitude. Sweet, sweet privacy. Oh, how I miss you.

In the meantime, I've actually responded to some comments. Look back a few days if you're at all interested in what I have to say in reply to your wit.

And as for the 10,000th visitor...yeah...ummm. No one's come forward as my number 10,000. And I think that may be because *ahem* it was me. Yes, I was my own 10,000th visitor. How pathetic and embarrassing is that? I'd set my counter not to track my own hits, but then I couldn't keep track of my inquisitive life mate.

So, it seems that Pua came the closest. What do you want, Sister? And no, I can't buy you tickets to NYC. If the rest of you want to put in your two cents, go to The Abyss and be nice to Pua.