No photos to accompany this little tale, but you’ll thank me for that shortly. So, as I’ve mentioned a time or 80, we are undertaking some fairly major renovations in our condo apartment – new bathroom, new flooring throughout, so absolutely everything is torn up right now and we have no access to proper plumbing. We do, however, live in a building with an indoor pool and attached change rooms, so we’re able to nip on down there when the nature need strikes. We’re really, really fortunate in that regard – bathroom renovations are such a bitch, man.
But it’s somewhat difficult to plan a biological function that generally does not wish to be planned, which means Mr. Finger Candy and I have been running down to the change rooms at all hours of the day, including last night at a quarter to midnight when I walked in on two of my neighbours having sex in the change room sauna. Had the two trashy perverts just stayed IN the sauna, I never would have seen them. There’s a tiny little window notched in the wooden sauna door, and by principle, I never, ever look through that window, because I know what I’m most likely going to see – one of my very elderly neighbours sprawled out on a towel, schvitzing in the altogether.
But these two panicked when they heard me coming through the outer doors and tried to bolt for the pool doors, unsuccessfully. That’s when I come around the corner and find the male half of the couple, equipment not remotely covered by his hands, frantically jigging across the change room while his lady screams, “THAT’S JUST MY HUSBAND!!!” at me. Just? Yes, sweetheart, I can now confirm that that is indeed “just” your husband and “just” his rapidly departing winky all up in my legitimate bathroom business at a quarter to freaking midnight on a weeknight (weeknight, weekend, it doesn’t really matter, but I guess whenever and wherever the urge strikes, huh?) Although as I queried a friend this morning, who decides that the very best time and place to get yer freak on is a ladies room sauna in a condominium run by a bunch of uppity 80-year-olds at a quarter to midnight on a Thursday night? Have some standards, people! And please to be removing your nut sack from atop that wooden bench, thanks. 😦
Reno life, friends – I don’t recommend it! Now I’m going to return to the mind-numbing task of just sitting here “supervising” the contractors, which is actually me joshing with the plumbers in between developing an intense, dirty old lady-ish crush on this 20-year-old British scuzzbag named Yungblud who looks like walking syphilis (this video for a song called 11 Minutes, featuring Halsey and Travis Barker, is INCREDIBLE; I miss the golden age of videos, and this one delivers.) He’s got that real ugly/handsome, Adam Driver-esque thing going on, and I’m obsessed with staring at his interestingly imperfect face. He’s also not a bad musician. Seriously, 22 years my junior or no, I just want to haul him down to the change room, toss his sketch ass in the shower for a good de-lousing and then bang in the sauna.
Sorry for the TMI (did you really need to know that I want to jump some jailbait who looks like a chihuahua with its face smashed in?) but I also may be round-the-clock high on off-gassing flooring materials. So you might be getting Extra Truthful Blogging Action Figure Sandra today. Hmm, best scamper on out of here before I start pontificating on politics or something else that will get me in trouble. Happy weekend, friends – may your change rooms be free of naked neighbours and your YouTube playlists filled with sketchy British musicians. 🙂