Sex and the office

When you use the search function in this blog and you type in the word sex, you only get one blog post. So in the space of four years on this thing- I have mentioned sex once, so clearly it was heaps important.

I figure if I type sex more often- I should get more google hits. Ha. No longer is this blog going to be PG rated.

Because I was with in a relationship for so long and it was just there- I didn't pay that much attention to it. And now for fucks sake [please pardon the pun] people can't stop talking about it and I can't stop thinking about it.

Campbell: Why don't you have sex with person A#, person B# and or person C#?

Mush: You're going to have to stop talking about it. This dry spell is making me loopy. And also all of those people are people that you want to do!

Campbell: But I'm in a committed relationship so I have to live vicariously through you!

Mush: Come again now? You picked me to vicariously live through? A street lamp in Newtown at 3am is getting more action than I am.

Campbell: Do Smiley guy.

Mush: I hate Smiley guy and he probably has a small weiner.

Today it just got so much worse. I had this ridiculous snapshot effect going through my head the whole day. So I'd be typing about steam cleaners or hard drives and then all of a sudden I'd be flooded with images. [Don't ask me to explain what was in them, this blog is not R18+ yet] I'd had to stop what I was doing and just sit there and blush.

My face was on fire.

It got to the point where people started asking me about the rosiness of my cheeks. Am I running a fever? Is it hot in here? Um. A little.

The most hilarious part was I could not engage in any real conversation.

My lovely chatty workmate turned around and started talking to me about mooncake [Jeez, I hope it was about mooncake] and all I could say was 'uh-huh. yup mooncake. yes.' She looked at me concernedly 'If you're feeling a bit unwell- you should take off your hoodie. It's not that hot in here though. Want a pear?"

Another image flash. Oh God. The knees just did a small buckle. "What? pear? me?"

".. you really should go out and get some air."

And on it went. Til I got on the phone and yelled at Campbell for putting ideas in my head.

They say that statistically [I'm not going to google it] a guy at his peak thinks about sex for about sixteen seconds of every minute. If that's what entails being a guy- I don't want to be a guy... seriously how does anything ever get done?? If I were a guy I'd never get anything done! I'd just stand around with my hands in my pockets all day blushing. Do they just work around the feeling? or is the feeling just so normalised that it doesn't affect what they do.

I don't know.

I hope that I'm errr.. all better by next Tuesday and can fully conduct a normal conversation by then. And now I'm off to take a cold shower.

[I realise I've just written two posts in a row about not concentrating at work. I'm a hard worker. Really.]