The Crotcheties
Saturday, May 31, 2008
It’s Saturday morning and we’re sitting in bed waking up with a cup of coffee, drapes open looking into the expanse of field.
He: No, I’m not shoveling the mulch this morning, there are other things I want to do, this is your project. I think that what we really need to do is put a web camera right there on the window jam, record our bed conversation and make some money on the Internet.
She: I have an idea. We could move it down a little and instead of us being the talking heads, we could be the talking crotches.
He: Oh, that’s good, talking crotches. (Roaring laugh)
She: Yeah, we could call ourselves The Crotcheties. (Laughter)
He: That’s good, the crotchety Crotcheties. Yeah, the old fogies still do it, point the camera to our crotches, spread our legs. Plenty of people would pay for that.
She: Are you kidding?
He: No. We could open a PayPal account and sell it pay per view.
She: Okay, but it has to be anonymous. I know, we open our laptops, lean back against the headboard, knees up so when we open the screen, the only thing people can see is the back of the screen …
He: and our genitals.
She: yikes, I’m not sure about this. More coffee, dear?
He: What do we call this?
She: Sex and the 60’s.
He: You need to spell it out.
She: Oh, I know. Elderhostel sex.
He: Is that when you get beat up with a wet noodle? That’s pretty hostile.
She: Get back to your Google.
He: Have you ever Googled sex? seen how many entries it pulls up.
She: That’s it, more coffee. (Thinking, if we can’t web cam it, we can blog it)
