MIMISMARTYPANTS

READ HER BLOG. I think she is utterly hilarious, and if I had a lot of time on my hands I just might consider spending it reading all the blog entries she's ever posted since 1999.

Recently there was some sex on the futon during Nora's nap. Although I have a mortgage and a job and a kid, and have purged my house of all milk-crate furniture and cinderblock-and-board bookcases, I still do not feel grown-up enough for a real couch. Hence the living-room futon, in all its faker couch glory, ready to be unfolded at a moment's staggering notice for any of my too-drunk-to-drive-or-ride-in-a-cab friends. Here is the thing about couch (or futon) sex---it makes you feel kind of theatrical and porn-star-ish, because you are forced to get very creative with positioning owing to the lack of space. Which is not a bad thing. LT and I have this routine where we like to pretend that our futon is a sheltered Mormon futon, because some rather kinky stuff has taken place on top of it, particularly in 2002, and we make the futon exclaim about the horror and sin and shockingness of what just happened in its high-pitched Futon Voice. I should mention that we only make the futon talk after the kinkiness is all finished, because I don't want you to think that making furniture talk in puppet voices is part of sex for us or anything.