Thursday, January 10, 2008

Savage Love Makes Me Smile, Yet Again

And gives me hope for the new year too! Here's the latest pearl necklace of wisdom:

'Q. I realize Savage Love is a sex-advice column (as evidenced by much vulgar language), but I'm going to ask anyway: (1) What is your definition of love? (2) How do you know if you're in "love"? (3) How do you know if they're the "one"? —Anonymous

A. (1) Love is making out with someone after you've blown a load on his/her face.
(2) You know you're in love when you're eating breakfast in a restaurant together the morning after he/she blew a load on your face and you suddenly realize that you didn't wash your face when you got out of bed that morning and you don't care.
(3) You know he/she is the one when he/she realizes that you've just realized that you're eating breakfast in a restaurant the morning after he/she blew a load on your face and you didn't wash your face when you got out of bed that morning and he/she smiles, leans over the table, and gives you a kiss. '

Which leads me on to an impromptu vox pop to answer a question of definition that came up when discussing the spit or swallow conundrum (well, conundrum for some- always seemed pretty obvious to me) with the Swedish Sweetie last night. If, in relation to the blowing of bioboy bits, you should claim 'I don't swallow' so you mean:
a) I will always politely spit out any boy-juice into my handkerchief before I have the chance to ingest it or
b) NO WAY is that icky jizz even coming close to my tongue or tastebuds in the first place?

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