So I'm at Cub Scouts earlier this week and I'm having a text message conversation about autoerotic asphyxiation and don't look at me like that because it's not like I want to choke one of the kids or anything, and if you have ever been to a Cub Scout meeting you would totally have that conversation because watching all those kids squirm all over the place like a bunch of eels makes you think of cancer on some subconscious level.
The point is, it was harmless. It was a victimless crime like eating endangered animals.
Only I can't remember it's called autoerotic asphyxiation at first so I'm just calling it "strangle sex", which sounds a lot more like what it is, because "autoerotic" makes you think of cars and maybe the asphyxiation is like from carbon dioxide or something, so it sounds like a car collector who forgot to run an exhaust fan, not being choked to death for the sake of a better orgasm. And while we're on the subject, just how much better can they really get in the first place? Orgasms are awesome, if I could have them all day I totally would and if you made me list the top 10 things that there were, it would be like Zombies, Ninjas, Pirates, Pandas, Orgasms, etc... and that's not like in any order, because orgasms are definitely better than pandas at least. So people into strangle sex are total stuck-ups because their orgasms aren't good enough for them, and if their orgasms asked them to the prom they'd scoff at them and then their friends would snigger every time I walked past the girls locker room, so you suck Jill K.*
So I'm talking about the pros and cons of strangle sex whilst the Cub Scouts run around at Mach 8 and punch everything and exhaust people who are paying way closer attention than I am, but you see... I stuck around for the meeting to feel superior about what a great parent I was for like being involved, and so what if I'm having a raunchy conversation on my cell phone? At least I stayed, dickweed.
Jesus, I'm not being paid to fucking babysit, so if some dumb kid sticks a used Q-tip**© in the light socket, it's not my problem and besides I secretly think that kid is "special" and I don't mean like he has superpowers unless having ADHD and convulsing every time he has to remain seated for 10 seconds counts as a superpower, which if it did, I would have been given a cape long ago instead of shock therapy because they thought they could zap out my emotional problems. Nice job Seventies Psychotherapy! If I could concentrate for two seconds I'd sue you into oblivion.
So we're talking strangle sex and I'm giggling at my phone, and my friend reminds me to not get aroused because standing in the middle of a pack of Cub Scouts giggling and with a boner is still considered creepy in some places (whatever). And then I say that strangle sex doesn't excite me and then it is suggested that maybe I'm doing it wrong and then I'm all "your Mom is doing it wrong!" but I shout this out and all the whole room of Moms turn to look at me, so I turn and look at the dad next to me and I'm all "What the fuck did you just say?" trying to throw them all off the scent, but it doesn't work because I'm standing next to a cardboard cutout of George Washington, and they all look really mad, so I grab some flash powder from my pocket and throw it on the floor and yell "Shazam" and disappear in a cloud of smoke, only I remember it isn't flash powder because I didn't have any of that, so I just grabbed some pepper, and it goes in my eyes a little and I start to cry***.
Moral: Even though it seems like a good combo, autoerotic asphyxiation and Cub Scouts DO NOT mix. Also, pepper in the eyes is stingy.
* Hi Jill! Now you're famous too. You win! (Jill is my friend from HS who says that I'm famous and wants my autograph now and when I give it to her she spits her gum into into it and wads it up and throws it in my face, but really we are great friends.)
**Q-Tips always inspire some dickhead to point out that the product is ACTUALLY a "cotton swab" and Q-Tip© is a name brand, and they feel all brilliant about spouting a fact that every person in the world knows unless the live in the Third world where they use deadly bugs to clean out their earwax because they can't afford even generic cotton swabs.
*** This is what some literary critics call "embellishing" but the story totally didn't need it, I just always want to disappear with flash powder but even in my dreams I can't pay attention long enough to pull off any type of caper. Stupid Broken Dreams.