Or: Why there is no measurable difference between me in a good mood vs. me in a shitty mood.
Or: Things you really, really shouldn't say / do in bed.
To protect the guilty, I am not putting names up for any of this. Was reminded this weekend of my lack of a 'filter' to keep me from saying horrible shit that I personally find amusing, regardless of circumstance, in this case; mid/post coital.
"Are you ticklish?"
'yes?'
"Neat! So's your sister!"
"Be colder. Move less."
"Happy birthday, Grandma!"
"Chad, you're awesome!"
"That'll teach you to say you have standards in public."
"Ha Ha!", followed by giggling, clapping and pointing at my nether regions.
"Sorry about the herpes."
"Well, that was degrading for everyone involved. 10 minutes?"
"You know [name redacted] is going to commit suicide over this right? Because I'm not sure I can avoid telling them. And touching myself while doing so."
"My new nickname for you is 'Scott's sock drawer'"
