Case in point: our romantic dinner on the beach.
It started out OK, with a nice flaming path to our dining tent on the sand.

Here's GeekBoy, looking all dapper.

That's not where the romantic part starts to break down, though.
Wait for it.
And here, we have us. I have a white knuckle death-grip on my chair to keep from being blown into the tent down the beach from ours. But, isn't the table kind of cool-looking? With that light inside it?
I thought so. (And here is where it morphs from romant-ic to com-ic)
I really liked the table.
A LOT.
I couldn't help it. It was wearing this kind of, I don't know, full table condom stretchy skin -thing.
I was completely unable to keep my hands off of it. Pressing and poking and tugging at it like a 4 year old, throughout the entire meal. It was SO cool. And kind of SEX-ay, if you must know.



I was completely unable to keep my hands off of it. Pressing and poking and tugging at it like a 4 year old, throughout the entire meal. It was SO cool. And kind of SEX-ay, if you must know.
You're such a nut, Debbie. Cool table condom though.
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