au naturel

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So, a friend and I went out for a Girl’s Evening.

During this evening we managed to eat a great meal, drink a whole bottle of wine and talk for 6 straight hours.

Six.  Hours.

We talked about everything.

Including sex.

Okay, mostly sex.

We both have fairly great sex lives (or at least we did before children screwed it up), excelling in both quality and quantity departments.

In one area, however, she’s got Husband and I beat.

Location.  Location.  Location.

(Does that count as three areas?)

Now Husband and I aren’t shy violets that only have missionary sex after dark with our clothes still on.  We’ve christened every room in our house (and probably every room in yours), several camp grounds and more than a few rest stops.

I won’t even go into where our son was conceived.

We cannot hold the teeny tiniest candle, however, to my friend and her husband.

Two words:

Waterfall Sex.

Anyhow, so I was giving Husband the comparative scoop, (not complaining, mind, as our sex life is finally back on track after I recently reclaimed my body – and my boobs – as a sexual object rather than a milk machine), who was suitably impressed and more than a little jealous.

Enter Husband and his proposed New Year’s Resolution.

I, Canadianna’s Husband, vow to have sex in a place that is not our home at least once per month.

I, Canadianna, can only assume that I’ll be along for the ride.

Should make for interesting blogging, anyhow.

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About Angela

My name is Angela. I am a 28 year old psych and criminology graduate, but I'd rather not diagnose you. I am a cuddle-slut. I can recite the entire script of The Princess Bride, (including accents) and believe that the meaning of life is contained within. Polyanna, Snap.com commercials, and Oprah 'reunion shows' make me cry. I can whistle and hum at the same time, but I cannot touch my toes. I am an expert in both listening and talking. I look good in orange. I am a writer. I kick ass in Gin, Hearts, and Cribbage but I don't understand Canasta or Bridge. I can be heard singing Broadway numbers from my shower, and have dressed up as a viking princess, (complete with aluminum foil breast plate) The Phantom of the Opera, and a Ghostbuster for Hallowe'en. I have a bird named Bean. I have a brother named Adam. They are not related. I like vanilla body lotion, peanut butter, saunas, Jim Carrey, broccoli, pets, TheOnion.com, Muppets, Kevin Smith, Corelle dishes, dry erase white-boards, Barenaked Ladies, Philosophy, the letter J, Harry Potter, picture frames, swimming, quilting, Michael Moore, genealogy, Raggedy Anne, tacky 50's tchotchke, 'Idiot's Complete Guide To' books, tweezers, feather pillows, polar dips, aquariums, Martin Luther King Jr., and Dr. Pepper. I don't like meat, gossips, cooked carrots, American Idol, mosquitoes, sweating, politics, public washrooms, tardiness, tuition, hunting, pat answers, pick up lines, brown bananas, cliches, pine scented air freshener, Kevin Costner, bacon, candied apples, pro-wrestling, humidity, and hypocrisy. Books I've read recently The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, The Dark Tower, When Nietzsche Wept, What's So Amazing About Grace?, Catcher in the Rye, Not Wanted On the Voyage, The Red Tent, The Little Prince, The Way the Crow Flies, Slaughterhouse-Five, The Poisonwood Bible, The Fall, The Knot of Vipers, Calculating God, The Chrysalids, Sick Puppy, Nineteen Eighty-Four, Franny and Zooey, The Brothers Karamazov, and jPod. I am slightly neurotic. No I'm not. Yes I am.

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