So there you are in bed with your inamorata cuddling in the spooning position after some vigorous lovemaking when suddenly you hear this noise.
Who farted?
Not me.
Yes you did!
Did not!
I heard it!
It wasn't me!
Eventually, this breaks into a full blown argument involving who is not putting down the toilet seat, the way one squeezes toothpaste out of the tube, who did the dishes, who did not do the dishes, etc, etc.. and before you know it, someone dumps someone.
Fear not oh fornicators for this new book answers one of life's most nagging questions....
It's just the wind beneath her wings...
Of course, I would like to add that this answer is based on the assumption that you poked the right hole.
How could I possibly have poked the wrong hole! you exert emphatically. Well, the fact that only 45% of women actually get an orgasm during penetrative sex could mean that quite a few are churning dark chocolate instead of strawberry cream.
My advice, and you should always take advise from a chaste and celibate devout catholic like me, is that if you find that corn kernels (or whatever she had for dinner the other day) are being lodged on your frenulum (pag supot), or sulcus (pag tuli), on the outward stroke, then chances are you are putting Pedro into the chocolate factory. Therefore, the answer to the above question doesn't apply.
(PS: "Right" hole refers to conventional sex taught in Sunday school. If you are so inclined, I have nothing against the 'wrong' hole. It could also be 'right' as taught in the Convents.)
Aaaaaanyways, in other news - Spring is finally upon us.....it's cold outside but at least it's pastel pretty.
Me and the dawgs got a new toy. A firewire external hard disk drive designed in His Royal Orangeness' colour by Neil Poulton. How time flies! My first computer had only 100 or so megabytes of storage. Now with mp3 files, movies, porn, and jpeg photos even 60GB isn't enough.
HRO Karl Willem approves of the orange outline of our new rugged hdd as PA/PR Gromit strikes a pensive pose wondering how long before we need to get a new one. We now have 450GB of storage. And yet, that still classifies me as normal. The real geeks I know have terabytes.
Because all of my godchildren think of me as the skint godfather who can't afford to give them PS3 or Nintendos for Christmas, I have decided not to exceed their expectations and will be giving them these......
...the book I mean, but maybe I could get them an actual vicious mongrel....
Finally, you know it's a Monday when you screw up even a very simple dinner. I made ginisang tuna in sunflower oil (with garlic, onions, chili) and topped it off with a raw egg. This was supposed to be served in 2 minutes so that the egg yoke would just be malasado (runny). Instead, I forgot all about it because a trailer for Juliet Binoche's new movie was showing on telly and the egg was well done. Well, ok, gawking at Juliet Binoche is a good excuse..
The disaster TV dinner. The curse of the bachelor strikes again. Well, not that having a girlfriend will solve anything.