Compared to John's exs, I'm a very vanilla type o' girl. I mean, he had the bi-sexual who teased John with the idea of threesomes. She travels the world, meets interesting people and experiences all kindsof crazythings. He also had the Buddhist girl who liked being tied up and caned. He even had a random encounter where he joined the mile high club with a good looking cougar when he was 24. I never really thought of myself of as vanilla until it was pointed out to me that I rarely, if ever talk dirty to him (granted John didn't call me vanilla...but that's to expected if he expects to continue having sex with me).

Now there are two reasons why I haven't used my dirty mouth (which I have in the past). One, I get a little embarassed how stupid it sounds, although most of the time (in sweeter terms) I'm thinking exactly what he wants me to say but I don't. And then two, my mind kind of blanks sometimes when we're in the middle of things. I go off to La La land and leave John to whatever it is he doing, occasionally reminding him that if he stops I'll kill him...it's just the kind of girl I am.

John came up with a way to get over the embarassment...because it is true, there's no reason to be embarassed. I mean my face is in the mattress, my ass is in the air and I've been known to scare small children with my yelling because we always leave the windows open...so why be embarassed? John's way of "schooling me in the art of talking like a dirty porn slut" was to tell me what he wanted to hear and have me repeat it. As we went about this mimicking routine/sex act/impregnation attempt #1, I got a little more into it...still...a little unsure of myself but ready to try and impress him with my dirty mouth next time. I mean I always impress him with my dirty mouth one way or another right?

Next lesson? Role Playing...

Now you may wonder how a woman like myself hasn't done this yet? I reply with this...it's a pretty random thing to ask of a one night stand---"Hi, I'm not completely sure of your first name but could you cane me?" "Oh? You're not into caning? Well perhaps you have a costume in your back pocket to role play with me?" "Oh, you don't..." Hmmm. Guess now you can see why has the "fortune/misfortune" to introduce me to all this stuff...because of my dirty, sordid past. Who knew that married life would turn me into a more adventurous girl?

PS. Making babies is fun, y'all! Ha ha...I just wanted to channel a little Brit Brit for a second there.

As promised there are updates to be had. And here they are.

The other night John and I were lying on the couch watching a movie (Star Wars...who would of thunk it?? ha ha...Star Wars is a pervasive part of our lives in a couple of different ways) and it was about time to go to bed. John got off the couch and valiantly leaned over and offered me his hand to help pull me up. With arm extended he smiled at me and said, "Ya ready, Porkin?" and then his face froze as he heard what his mouth had uttered. I busted into laughter. "Porkin? Are you seriously calling me Porkin?" laughing all the while, "I don't think you should call your wife Porkin, especially when she's not so happy with her weight right now!!" And his excuse? He states he was trying to call me either Pork Chop or Pumpkin (two favorite pet names that we have for each other) and he combined the two. Right...riiiighht. The funniest part? The nickname has stuck and now we're both known as Porkin.

The next item of business is the fact that John and I would like to see if it's possible to go about patenting a way in which to lay on the couch. Truth be told, we spend the majority of the time we spend together...on the couch. Everyone knows the time old form of lying on the couch called "Spooning" but we like to lay on opposite ends of the couch facing each other in "V" formation. My legs then rest on top of his legs and typically the dog lays in the little diamond between us poking us with her bony elbows (seriously, I have bruises on my legs from her damn bony elbows!). We have given this couch position the moniker--Forking...we either have too much time on our hands or (and this second option is the one I like to believe) we're just really witty and awesome. Please, test out Forking and let us know what you think.

And finally Wing Night. Ah, beloved wing night...the girls and I used to go and get absolutely bombed while our lips ne'er touched a buffalo sauced piece of chicken. Now that I'm married I've come to love Wing Night a little more than before because 1) I get to actually eat wings and 2) I don't have a massive hangover in the morning because we're don't drink and cry in our beer like the girls and I used to (Not that it wasn't fun mind you...but it was never fun on Thursday mornings!). This Wing Night was a little different because we were meeting John's friend at the bar. I was scared. I had seen this girl's profile on Myspace and she terrified me....she's like a tiny, tattooed bulldog who seriously has a hatred for skinheads and fascists (that's a good thing...it's just the fervent nature of the message on her page).

I had briefly met her once before, on Thanksgiving Eve (the same night I first met Johnny!) and she came up to my table, and growled, "Where's the can in this place?" I just pointed to it and told Tara, "She's not going to kill me now since I told her where the bathroom was...you, she still might kill." Last night was the first time that I was going to really meet her since then. And I had a few new things to go on. 1) John stated she was "a really nice girl" and 2) John had had sex with her in the past. Hmm, I wasn't sure how I felt about meeting the girl who had a bullring through her nose, the punk rock hair cut of short (nearly buzzed in the back) and longbangs looped behind her ears. Not because how she looked but really because she had sex with my husband!! I swear, it's hilarious how indignant and jealous I get about it (it was a while back). John just rolls his eyes at me and in his head I know he's thinking mean things about me and all the people that he could run into concerning me...but he doesn't say it--and that makes him a good boy...a really good boy.

And let me tell you...John wasn't lying, she was a really nice girl. And to be honest, I barely thought about that time that John put his penis in her. Sure it popped into my head once or twice, but for the most part it was a pleasant two hour hang out. When John and I got into his car he asked, "Well what'd ya think?" And I said, "Well, she's really nice...to the point that I barely thought about the fact that you two banged before." And his reply? "Well, if it makes you feel any better it was really, really awkward." And indeed, because I'm a grinch with the heart the size of a pea, I did feel better--even though there was no reason for me to feel badly, since she has a boyfriend and regaled me with tales of Johnny being drunk trying to eat congealed pork fat. It's a proven fact that when a girl tells stories of a man eating anything congealed, she's just not that into you...because you're gross (unless your my husband, then you're just a hungry drunk).