In Which I Make a Big Deal Out of Doors

This morning, I was walking into my office building.  There are 2 sets of doors to walk through before you hit the lobby.  You know.  Like… most… lobbies.  (Strong opener, Jess.)

I open the outer door fully.  100 goddamn percent.  It’s as open as (pop culture reference involving a vagina, probably).  

An older dude is walking toward me, through the inner doors, and holding a giant fuckin’ camera.

I do the normal human thing, and hold the outer door.  The one I’m not even done walking through, thus making the door-holding situation almost zero percent inconvenient for me.  It would have taken him 2 seconds to walk through, and I would have lost… mmmmaybe 1 second of my life.

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Sex Club Shenanigans: Pt. 2

So I went to a sex club.  And I cried a lot.

We left.  I cried some more.  We talked about it.  We tracked down some cheese curds, and because cheese is my life, my mood did a complete 180.  Then we decided to go back in a couple weeks.

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I Went to a Sex Club and Only Cried Once, Pt 1

Posting this publicly is making me shit 100% of the bricks in the entire world.

The title is not a lie, so if you don’t want to read about me going to a sex club, TURN BACK NOW.   That said, this is about as tame as it gets.  Like, if you’re picturing some 50 Shades shit, calm yo ass.  It’s mostly just me describing articles of clothing and referring to sex as “banging.”

Aight.  You’re still here?  And thus, presumably, not related to me?   Good.

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