Cammin’

Not long ago, a certain friend was over to have some dinner and watch Glee with us and another lovely guest. At the time, she was on the job market and had too much time on her hands which – let’s just face it because we’re all perverts – meant that she took up the familiar and beloved international hobby of Internet pornography. One thing led to another and all of a sudden the three of us are creeping all up on my laptop and some website where anybody can hook up a webcam and put on a live show.

Now let’s be clear – 80% of the live feeds are unwatchable. Unwatchable for reasons including but not limited to unattractiveness, weird junk, unattractive sexual partners, oldies, fatties, sex toy use that made us uncomfortable, bad lighting, and terrible soundtracks. But that last 20%? Okay fine, they’re still not even close to okay but they’re either hot enough, good for a laugh, or the people sending them public chat messages with requests are so strange that you can’t look away. So we watched, we drank wine, we laughed, we got weirded out when the newf wandered into the room, and we never spoke of it again. No harm done.

Flash forward a few weeks to me on a break in between old job and new job. Clearly, and none of you should be overly surprised here, I’m in the throes of a full-fledged addiction NOT TO INTERNET PORN (this time) but to reading the dramatic unfoldings of internet porn chat messages. It was so bad that I had stopped watching what was actually happening all together just to watch the old school chat feed. It was like I had time-traveled back before Facebook, Twitter, MSN, even ICQ, and I liked it. It had the same novelty as what I believe sexting via fax would.

So I was stuck in this amateur porn cycle when I landed on these two British guys who were just sitting there drinking Pepsi out of the bottle (not sexy-like either if that’s something that you’re into) while people hurl jaw-droppingly filthy suggestions at them via chat. After half an hour or so of that (sadly I’m serious), they finally start doing stuff when what happens? ONE OF THEIR MOMS BURSTS IN THE ROOM! Oh yes – friends. Shit got juicier than a season finale on Passions.

The mom freaked out over having just walked in on her kid, the guys freaked out because they’re acting like Romans back when the Olympics were totally gaytown, a dog ran into the room and jumped up on the bed to play with the empty bottle of Pepsi, and IT WAS ALL BEING BROADCAST TO THE WORLD. And that’s about when I left all my dignity behind by deciding that I’m okay with being the kind of person who texts friends about porn and created a sexy-texty list. And to be honest? I still feel good about that.