help, I need cpr...

Praise Jesus. Andy's back from Florida, thus making this awesome weekend complete.

Saturday was fancy pants, dressed up, drinks and dinner with Dani, Zoe, and Tim. Needless to say, that was marvelous, and as both Dani and I got to wear our "fur", we found ourselves fabulous. And Sunday, my opposite sexuality life partner returned from hell, back to the land of tolerance, lattes, and literacy.
Andy was pretty easy to spot outside the baggage claim, standing in fabulous new ass-hugging pants, with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, waving frantically. Within minutes, we were back to normal, belting Elton John out the windows and gossiping about every detail from the past week. We went out to lunch and then shopped, and Andy delighted as we returned home. Why? Because his porn had arrived. Aptly titled, "CPR (Crazy Puerto Ricans)", Andy read me the description on the back of the box as I left messages for my grandmother, clergyperson, or similar.
Andy then regaled me with stories of his week in Jesusland, the greatest tale being the man who came over to hook up with Andy's host, Jason, and fervently assembled a sex sling whilst casually discussing the weather, the election, and the big sale at the Pigly Wigly. I don't know what's really appropriate to talk about when putting together a huge sex toy, but I think I'd prefer silence. Or perhaps soft music. Either way, if I have to watch someone assemble a sex sling while having uncomfortable conversations, I'd prefer it to be a CPR.