Dogs and sex. No, not at the same time.

I think it's very nearly criminal that so many places don't allow pets, especially apartments for single people. If you're going to live by yourself, you almost have to have a pet, in my opinion. Right now, I would give my soul for a dog. (After all, it's not like I'm using it. My soul, that is.)

I got interrogated by state troopers the other day about an accusation of sexual harassment. It was a little unnerving. I forgot to call the guy "sir." Darn it.

Today I found a used condom in a bed. It was really really gross. First time I've ever actually seen one, to be honest. Well, first time I've recognized one, anyway. Now I think about it, I want to say I've seen one before, but I might just be thinking of balloons.

Also, it's officially summer. Doing in-house today, and this guy came to the door in his underpants. Real nice guy, cute smile, very friendly... and very much in his undies. His rather tight undies. I'm fairly certain I didn't start to blush until after he closed the door, but after that, I think even my arms turned red, I blushed so bad.

Lots of, uh... interesting stuff going on lately, I guess. While we're on this topic, I may as well go ahead and rant a bit. I was reading a book called Fortune's Fool. It's by Mercedes Lackey. Very good book. So I'm reading it and going "Wow, I really like this book. This is a good one. I should recommend it to my friends. Oh... hello, unnecessary sex scene." Just out of the blue. Hello. I didn't really need to know all that. In the last year or so, I've gotten to the point where I can sort of handle sex scenes... to a point. But I really don't want to know all the details about what goes where and who bites what when. I really don't want to know that. So I'm skimming over it, trying to find where the scene ends and to my delight, it was exactly one page long, front and back. So I ripped out the page (it was my book) and the scene very nearly seamlessly went from page a to page c. Cool. Book's better now. It implies what they did, but at least doesn't go into detail. And it's a good book. So I'm reading further, going "Yay, good book!" when suddenly "Hello another unnecessary sex scene." This one was longer and I had to rip out a page and take a pen to a third of the next one. Like I said, I'm not as entirely squeamish as I used to be, but I really don't want to know what's in which position or just how fast they're going at it. I really really don't want to know. Really.

Why do so many people insist on randomly throwing in scenes like that into perfectly good books? The book would have been perfectly fine if the characters weren't screwing each other silly every few pages (especially since they're unmarried). There really isn't a point to it. And even if they are, do we have to know every detail about it? As my dad says, "I don't care what you do behind the bedroom door so long as I don't have to hear about it." It almost seems like people throw love interest into stories just for the sake of having it there. A lot of the time, they don't even really love each other, there's just this attitude of "You're a girl, I'm a guy, let's have sex."

Katy, my old English-major roommate, says sex in a story is symbolic of need. Screw that (no pun intended). I think people are just more likely to read a story that makes them feel slightly horny because a lot of people are naturally obsessed with sex. That and authors get giggles from writing crap like that. It bothers me, yes it does. I'm sure sex is nice and all in its place, but why does it have to be paraded all over creation like it is? Why can't we parade things like brushing our teeth instead? Cutting our fingernails, maybe. I can see it now... some hot, steamy, tooth-brushing scene, caressing the toothbrush, loving the toothbrush, feeling its bristles gently rubbing your gums, tasting the sharp sweetness of the toothpaste... okay, you guys, stop thinking dirty thoughts. I don't know what you're thinking, but stop. Honestly, what's wrong with you?