Smells Like Old People

So last week some time my pal Tits wrote a blog about "weird sex". It was hilarious because obviously it is subjective.

Well, what she decided was weird to her crossed over into a place in me that I had not considered when pondering what I considered "weird". And then there it was. It hit her and then her hit hit me and before I could stop my eyes from reading, it was there...

Burning...My eyeballs...Make it stop!

"My folks having sex. That is weird to me, and disgusting but why?" she wrote.

I tried to blink.

I covered my mouth.

Not at the thought of her parents having sex or at the thought of my parents having sex. I was raised by my grandparents and it wasn't even the thought of them having sex.

Suddenly, I was reminded of a conversation my grandmother had with me that damn near melted my eardrums at the time and made me want to shower with a Brillo pad.

I can say "at the time" all day long and know that I am still not old enough to hear what she told me.

It was after my grandpa died and she had a boyfriend whom we all despised. It is safe to say that we most accurately despised his existence in hers and our lives, as he had been my grandpa's best friend...and she had had an affair with him for 20 years before my grandpa died.

Grandma was a slut.

That being said, she never spoke about sex and would have liked us all to believe that the stork delivered babies.

She used goofy names for body parts and whispered all "unmentionable" topics.

Breasts, vaginae, and buttocks were all called "whatsis"...

Sometimes she would venture out and call the ass, a "toukis". That's when she was pissed.

But in Gran's world, I had to guess which body part she was addressing...which slowed the conversation down a hair.

When it came to talk about sex, I was given a pamphlet about menstruation by the nuns and a book on sexual health with mediocre pictures that was written in the 50's.

So you can imagine my shock (read: "choke, gag, shoots-shortbread-cookie-through-nose" type delight) while sitting one day at the table when my son was about two, she started babbling about her boyfriend, Carl.

It had gotten to the point that any time his name was mentioned, anyone she was speaking to would suddenly: get busy, have to pee, fart, fall on the floor in a fit, or simply hang up on her.

I was right there.

There was no escape.

Drinking a cup of tea and nibbling on a Stella D'oro Breakfast Treat.

I had let my mind wander and had no idea what she was saying until I hear, "You know, Carl can't get it up anymore but he is VERY good with his hands."

I screamed.

Loud.

High pitched.

More of a shriek.

Horror movie quality.

People have heard this.

Then I started coughing uncontrollably as cookie and tea watered my eyes and shot out of my nose.

This broke her into hysterics. Hysterical laughter from a woman who had no sense of humor to speak of.

My son stopped playing at our feet and looked up at us. His eyes grew large and his lip puffed out.

Grandma had made Mommy scream and now was laughing at her.

He got up, kicked her in the leg and buried his head in my lap.

This made her react much like I had and she cracked up harder.

However, she never discussed sex with me again.

And that is why I have two children, loathe erectile dysfunction and upon meeting someone named Carl, my skin turns green.

The End.