Disclaimer: This is about sex. Sort of. Hide your kids, hide your wife, hide yourself if you are one of my co-workers or underage relatives.
So, a few weeks ago Jeff and I were snuggling under the covers, as we are wont to do, when one of us readjusted the sheets and I got a face full of what I have dubbed "sex wind."
Stop reading now if you are the type to wear full pajamas and snug cotton underwear to bed. Drink some warm milk and forget you ever found this blog. Those of you who sleep in the nude, or retire wearing skivvies that look like they belong in the Tenement Museum will know what I'm talking about.
Basically, the sex wind is the air that's been trapped beneath the sheets--co-mingling with your genitalia--until you shift position and release it like a tiny gas bomb into your, or your partner's, face. Its potency depends on a few factors:
I'm already humiliated enough, so I won't go on. Suffice to say that if you could bottle it, you would probably have no friends.
P.S. Look what I made Jeff for Christmas:
It's pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.