Any Requests?

I'm noticing this pattern with my little blog. Apparently, I take requests. That's cool, too, because there are days when the CruiserBrain cannot think of anything to write about here and I understand the addiction that is reading blogs, so I'm pleased to take ideas from my precious readers from time to time.



Lindystars and (Not-So) Pregnant In Texas have all asked for more Boy-Toy J stories. I am nothing, if not accommodating, so here's what's happening:



Remember how I said I was trying terribly hard to overlook the things that have, in the past, caused me to turn-tail and head for the hills? To be honest, I'm doing my level best, but every now and then one of those stupid little things rears it's head and I have to stop myself from doing a U-turn.



But this one trait has me verging on the edge of crazy at times. He's hyper. I mean, H-Y-P-E-R. I haven't used that word to describe a human being since I was perhaps a pre-teen, and then it was usually in regards to my friend, E. Rather, "hyper" is usually used to describe a miniature poodle, tap dancers or fleas. Certainly, I have never used that word to describe a guy. Guys are usually described by me as "that lump on the sofa that eats every bite of food in my house" or "the one who farts."



Boy-Toy J is just plain hyper. Maybe it come from being in retail / sales. Maybe it comes from a high metabolism or too much caffeine. I suppose he could actually have undiagnosed hyperactivity disorder. Whatever the reason, there are times he absolutely must be reined-in and told to shut the F up already!



I've found just the best way to shut him up and chill-him-the-fuck-out. Sex.



No, really. There is scientific proof this works. I've learned to buck up and offer my services at any time. I'm helpful that way.



It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. That last sentence wasn't actually written to be funny. Let me explain.



I found myself slinking into my own home at 3:00 in the morning today. I say "slinking" because I had of course, left practically every light in my house on, including a very bright front porch light, that if anyone knows my routine, I usually turn off by 10 or 11, even if I'm not calling it a night. As I pulled the CruiserCar into the driveway, I felt as if there was a neon sign with a big red arrow pointed at me that said "A Slut Lives Here."



But back to the real sacrifice - I have to wake up for work by 6:30 or 7:00 to be on time. You do the math. Scratch that; I already did the math for you - that's like hardly any sleep at all! So, I've been draggin' ass all day at the office. I lingered over the composition of a simple 3 paragraph letter for at least 20 minutes, and even complained that my teachers in 8th grade probably should have never passed me along to 9th grade.



However, if it can help out my fellow human being, I am willing to face this challenge head on to provide this service to hyper Boy-Toy J. Don't say I'm selfish, because obviously I'm the most selfless person I know.