Some people can sleep with the TV on. Some people can have sex with the TV on. Unfortunately, I can’t do either. Brilliant multi-taskers, there are those who can share a chuckle with David Letterman whilst performing fellatio from a trapeze. Me, I am haunted by “now for just $19.95 you get THESE KITCHEN KNIVES plus FOUR POTATO PEELERS and this COLLAPSEABLE TUPPERWARE!” And I think, wait, collapseable? I wanna see! Then I’m distracted and my mate is mad because he was just about to come before squashed plastic became more interesting. Or I’m forever going to associate doing a 69 with the time that the Fonz won the dance marathon. So yes, turn it off, turn it off!

But then I think,
Oh Jesus, it’s so quiet! Can everyone hear us? Are we making too much noise? Is that the bed post hitting the wall to the neighbor’s bedroom? Are his roommates gonna give me sly looks and put on “The Jungle Book” when I run out to pee? I think there’s a little kid who lives downstairs, his bedroom is right underneath, am I completely ruining his childhood, will he have to go for years of therapy because I insisted my mate yells out drill sergeant-type commands when I’m on top? I can hear…a FAUCET dripping. For the love of God, am I having sex at a Shaolin Temple?!?

Next time I sleep over, I’m bringing a white noise machine. Or my very own Mariachi band.

1 Comment

  1. ken

    April 4, 2012 at 10:46 am

    Thanks for ruining the fine art of 69ing for me by bringing up The Fonz.

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