I Am Pretty Much Always Sorry About Everything

The tunnel was closed today, meaning I prematurely turned off Marginal to get to I-5, which was a stupid idea but also one that everyone in the city had, apparently, because I crawled along at between 10 and 18mph the entire way home. A commute that normally takes 30 minutes took over an hour, and here is where I’m about to apologize.

I’m sorry, family. I’m sorry, previous employers who are now allowed to know me on the Internet. I’m sorry, anyone who had a preposterously high opinion of me at one point and I’m sorry, everyone who doesn’t think a lady should talk this way.

But Seattle traffic is a lot like getting fucked in the ass.

It’s been awhile since I did anal. Oh, don’t get so worked up. I’ve been reading Savage Love since I was 14, and like anyone who grew up knowing that you probably weren’t going to hell for fucking in the first place, if you ever expected to have any fun at all, you might as well try whatever you wanted before you started talking shit about it. Well, there are exceptions. I’ll talk shit about actual shit, as well as pee and barf. Because gross.

Anyway, it’s been over 10 years at least, halfway because I didn’t think it was terrifically fun and the other half because if a dude is anything over average, it hurts a lot. Enough to make it pretty much un-worth doing more, and again, I’m sorry to anyone who is upset by this news, either the part where I said “I did anal” or the part where I said I’m not a current practitioner.

The point was that although it’s been a long time, I remember enough of the sensation to know that sitting in Seattle traffic for over an hour is a lot like getting fucked in the ass. At least, it is for someone who’s not into being fucked in the ass. I’m sure there are people who love getting fucked in the ass but still hate sitting in Seattle traffic, and I guess this blog isn’t really for them.

For me, they’re extremely similar because at the end of both, I’m exhausted. I’m sweaty. I hurt (although not that locally, it’s still a very tense experience overall). I’ve been clenching my butthole for way longer than makes me comfortable. I want to take a nap. I want to have a drink. More than anything, I feel like a gigantic idiot for being conned into participating in the whole mess at all.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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