In other Malcolm news, I just found this site. Stevie isn't doing well at all.

So last night Sara said the threatening words that I knew would come eventually. "This is not going in your diary." Lucky for you she wasn't talking about the sex.

And yes, the sex was, again, incredible. The casualty count wasn't as high as it normally is. One condom, two towels and the bed pad. I think I squeezed all the juice out of her last time.

We did a Julain/Eleanor scene that became something of a battle of wills. They were clashing so fiercely that at some point each of us was thinking, "How are we going to get to the sex from here?"

It's hard to explain all the nuances of the scene without going way into depth on the characters, and since we do want to write a novel based on the story we've created around these scenes, I'm reluctant to give away all of our cool ideas.

Let's just say that we finally stopped when I was panting and Sara was a puddle. I felt like I'd just played a really fun, challenging mind game that involved running windsprints. And my team won.

When we talked after the scene, I asked Sara if she'd been surprised that I slapped her. She said she was surprised that I pulled it after what she'd said to Julian. It was a mild stage slap, barely making contact, but Sara snapped her head to one side with impressive drama.

She definitely gets an Academy nomination for last night. Cold. Indifferent. Taunting. Brrrrr. I would've been completely freaked out if some emergency had forced us to stop at that part of the scene before we got to the extraordinarily hot, passionate part and the sort of cool down/reconnect period that we always have afterward.

We talk and hold each other to come back down to earth a bit and ease out of headspace before we part ways. Last night we went from intense scene to silly and giggly. Awwwww.

I keep thinking it would be interesting to do my diary entry immediately after a date, but for now, immediately after a date equals about 15 minutes before Deb gets home from work. Or, if it's a morning visit, I have to be getting ready to go to work myself.

All these time restrictions suck. When I got home from work last night, Sara was pretty much ready to start the fun. I asked for 30 minutes of wind-down from my day time and used it to feed the dog, wash dishes, and smoke two cigarettes. I skipped dinner.

I've often said I'd rather have sex than eat, and I mean it. I didn't want some stupid meal cutting into my date time. I wasn't hungry at bedtime, but I ate four Oreos and drank a glass of milk.

Deb keeps bringing all these luscious dessert things into the house to use in the ice cream recipes, but she only uses about a third of the package. And then they're just sitting there. Calling my name. This morning I put the Oreos and Heath bars into the freezer so that wouldn't be out on the counter whispering, "Hey, Badsnake. Creamy, chocolatey mouthfeel here. Want some? Come on ... take one."

I haven't mentioned mealtimes lately. I've been lax. Saturday night Deb brought home a couple sirloins. Ungh. I've been craving red meat lately. Sunday night she cooked broiled scallops. Huge. Yummy. The soup kick is over, apparently.

The solicitation for subjects for a 360 degree VR image is still open. Come on. Speak up.

And the sex question still stands. Would you rather have sex with me or Sara? Or are we too scary to even think about it?Say something, you bunch of ass pansies!

One more thing. In my quest to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that I will truly be a prematurely senile old bat, I'm going to start posting some of the strange things that come out of my mouth instead of real words. This instance is from Sunday dinner.

Armtits.

Word I meant to say: armpits.

Moving on - 12:11 p.m. , 2007-08-14

Where the hell have I been? - 12:10 p.m. , 2007-02-19

Holy shit! - 2:24 p.m. , 2006-01-11

Stuffing recipe - 6:17 p.m. , 2005-12-13

Good Life Update - 10:22 a.m. , 2005-11-11