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Chaps: because if they had an ass, they'd just be called pants.

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Sex in a Car

Step #1: Open the car door
Step #2: Get in the car
Step#3: Start having sex

For you JTC aficionados out there, I would like to consider this post a sequel of sorts to Co-Co's classic "Condom Conundrum" post.

As many (both) of you know, each August, the area of Toronto in which I live hosts a quiet little festival called "Taste of the Danforth". Here's a picture of a few of the festival goers to give you an idea of what's going on:

Alright - so in reality, it's fucking teeming with peeps. Overflowing. And when you get that many people in a small area, there's bound to be some weird shit going down. Like last year, when someone stole a car, realized you couldn't drive through a million people, so turned onto my street, and hit my neighbour's house.

This year, me and the CHP decided that we were going to leave town for the weekend, to escape the madness, but because we're whores for Greek food, return on Sunday evening to catch the end of the event. When we returned to Toronto, we naturally couldn't find a parking spot in front of our house, so parked a couple of blocks away. As I was walking around the side of our house, unloading the car, my CHP suddenly started urgently calling my name. When I asked her what was up, she responded:

"There's someone having sex in their car directly in front of our house!"

This is not a sentence I hear every day. So I walked out to the porch, and sure enough - there were two peeps going at it in their Civic approximately 2 feet from the edge of my front lawn. I honestly didn't know how to react. Should I be outraged? Angry? In reality, I was fairly amused, and quite entertained. Similar emotions seemed to be felt by my 80 year old Greek lady neighbour, who was out on her porch enjoying the hot action.


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