My Ass.

Yeah, that sure as shit isn’t my ass.

“It’s ass week at Ken & Ariel!” Ken bellowed. Wha? Wait, what day is it…month is it? Do I have to pay rent? Did I pay my bar tab? Oh shit…

“I got stuff lined up all week but I need you to do a post about your ass. You did a decent one on your tits a little while ago. So now it’s time to give that derriere the star treatment.”

So here I sit, writing to y’all about my butt. Ken has very nicely bestowed the “nice bum, where ya from” greeting on occasion, as well as bribe me shamelessly to sit on his face (not happening. Yet.) Truth be told, I don’t really give it much thought. After all, I’m right here, and it’s somewhere… behind. I’ve occasionally tucked my skirt, several sheets of toilet paper and maybe a dollar bill or two (when I was bereft of pockets) back there. The damn thing’s also been known to eat my thongs, particularly those of the dental-floss variety.

Occasionally, it gets slapped. Not a big fan of that – just as I wasn’t a big fan of corporal punishment when I was 5-7 years old. If it’s the height of passion or an enthusiastic performance of doggie style, g’ahead – just be sure I’m getting you back when you get in the shower. I am in agreement with Kristen Bell in that I would prefer it to be a bit bigger, in a bubblicious sort of way. If nothing else, it makes the $150 I plonk down for designer jeans seem somewhat worth the investment.

My girlfriends with bodacious bootys have complained that the extra attention they receive isn’t worth the ensuing harassment they get from rogue penises attempting to cross the great divide. I guess I can relate on some sort of statistical level with regards to how many requests I field for titty fucks. But again, I don’t give it much thought because no, no, and that’s it, I’m calling your mother.

OK, I realize I sound like a particularly constipated version of Andy Rooney (may he rest in peace) on this topic. I do love my butt and I’m grateful for the attention lavished upon it during sexytimes. Hell, I’m just grateful for sexytimes and for all my body parts to get some sort of shout-out. Except my toes. Please, for the love of God, don’t suck on my toes. Wait, I guess that’s another post…


  1. Ken

    September 4, 2012 at 6:28 pm

    BTW, that sit on my face bribe comes straight from the heart. Just so you know.

    • Ariel

      September 4, 2012 at 9:02 pm

      Oh, I know. I know. 😉

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