It's the end of my sexless weekend thanks to a treacherous uterus and I eagerly look towards the latter part of the week when I will be free of my womanly shackles.

I do not purport to know why, but my left knee feels like someone injected water into the cartilage and just left it there. It's painful and I can't for the life of me figure out what I did to cause it. It's seriously limiting my agility, which is bad.

My birthday is dumb

I mean that in the literal sense. On a dumb scale of 1-10, Groundhog Day hovers around 23.

I'm not expecting anyone to do anything for it except possibly my daughter (if she isn't too busy straightening her hair) and my office mates. My son will almost certainly design the most adorable card ever designed by a child once someone tells him his mother is old(er). If it didn't fall on a Wednesday, he'd bring me toaster pastries and cereal in bed.

I'd like a King Cake this year.

My Desi boy really wants to take me out for my birthday. I mentioned that I've never had Indian food and he said he'll take me even though he doesn't really like it all that much. He probably has a similar relationship with his native cuisine as I do with Tex Mex.

He wants to meet for lunch one day at Spiral Diner (vegan, yet amazingly very good). As it turns out, he's a huge fan of the place and it's close to both of our offices.

I showed his picture to our 65-year-old staff assistant today.

"Oh geez, E! He's REALLY good looking. WOW! Why don't you email me that picture and I'll print it on photo paper for your desk? That is one good looking guy! Is he younger than you?"

For the record, he is. I'm 1.5 years his senior. I don't think that quite qualifies me as a cradle robber.

Neither of us know where this is going. He's a foreign guest worker; one of the rare legitimate ones actually imported to do a job few are trained to do. He's been in this country 6 years (5 in Boston) and his boss is wanting to ship him to India in a few months to train people. In order for him to stay here, he'd be out a shitload of money. He's not trying to snag an American wife for a visa.

"If I ever marry, it will be for marriage, not a visa."

So there you have it. Since I'm 110% certain neither of us is going to be willing to walk that plank in a few months,  it definitely leaves things up in the air. We've decided to continue things as they are and see where that leads. I refuse to stress over it.

I'm not sure how to describe the relationship. I don't know if I should call him my boyfriend. He's far more than a fuck buddy. Right now, I'm just unsure what that makes him.

Astrology is stupid but I still sorta follow it

The Desi is a Libra and I'm Aquarius.

 So we're each other's best match (along
 with Gemini for me), zodiacally speaking.

I'm reasonably certain I just made that word up.

Slumdoggin'

I could barely function at work Monday because I spent 4.5 hours having my brains fucked out by M. Night Shyamalamadingdong's doppleganger Sunday night. My first excursion with him, in my van two nights prior, was but a mere warm up.

Yes, I did just say 4.5 hours. That's a long time to do the things we were doing. I shouldn't be able to walk yet but thanks to the amazing cushioning powers of foreskin, I'm able to stand fully upright.

Perhaps it isn't just English men but foreign men in general that do it for me. I've always thought a lot of Indian men were extremely good looking. Turns out they have a lot of stamina to boot. I always heard they have tiny dicks. That's just some crazy nonsense right there. It wasn't tiny. Not at all. Not even a bit.

Best lulz so far this week: talking on the phone with my BFF Monday when she was having lunch with her standard issue American boyfriend.

"C and I are at the Indian place on (insert name of overdeveloped street in Fort Worth here)".
"You're having what kind of food?"
"Indian. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"
"Really? I went on a 4.5 hour Indian binge last night. I love Indian!"

Then there was lots of cackling laughter.

I'm unsure where things are going with my Desi boy. He thinks I'm the hottest thing on two legs and we did know each other a couple of months before we go to the point of 4.5 hours of almost continuous penetrative sex.

Yes, I did just say that.

There's far more there than physical elements though those are freaking awesome in their own right.

I also feel like I should write a song or a poem about foreskin because I just love it that much. I'm not that motivated right now so I'm just going to post a stupid graphic.