Star of P()rn

I swear I'm living a p()rnstar life with the kind of guys that keep coming through this house. Plumbers and repairmen and today, some "restoration" guy who is coming to "survey" my "damage" from the move. Seriously, it's a never ending stream of dudes making appointments to come to the house to do this and that. I think I could turn a pretty penny if I set up a hidden camera and answered the door in my sheer "nightie". Oh, hello, Mr. Restoration Man, I didn't know you would be arriving so soon, you'll pardon my nubile and willing body, won't you? Oh, you've dropped your hammer, shall I get that for you? Cheesy dialogue? Check. Unattractive male actors? Check. Hot sex machine me? Oh yeah. There is cash to be made, ladies, and I could tap into that market. Get it, "tap" that "market"? Good lord, stop me now.

The only problem, of course, is that whole actual having sex business (and it is a business!) I have no problem with having it (love it in fact, hello!) and encouraging others to do likewise. I just reserve the right to pick and choose and so far, um, as Win would say: I must pass. Now where's old Candance the Carpenter when you need her, I ask?

Why am I even having this conversation? Who am I and what am I doing here?

Aside: Do you like how I disguise that p-word up above to keep out freaky folks from finding this site and yet (and this is completely true) someone from Iran googled the phrase 'nippy fucky' recently and found my blog so what can you do? I'm not kidding either. Sorta makes me afraid of what I've written here. Of course, this post is not helping in any way/shape/form.

And with that, I bid you a nippy fucky good day!