coffeewhiskey

I was pushing for a pilots license, chasing ill hobbies. Ended up flying kites in the park, the things we do when we're children to imitate our dreams, land a spaceship in a sandbox, because the moon is one big sandbox. Be an astronaut, if nothing else then to keep the suit in your closet, have a girl come over, the astronaut suit in that long plastic bag hanging from the bathroom door, tell her you just got it back from the laundromat, that there's this place down on third that can get out any stain. Now you can let her wonder. So I started pushing for a pilots license, I figure crawl before you walk, kites to model planes, model planes to video simulators and such and such before I attain the all amazing suit. I wondered if you needed someone else to zip you up, if astronauts felt like girls when they did that over the shouldered motion followed by a umm, "could' ya". The girls always want to try it on, like when it's on gravity will disappear and then we can fuck on the ceiling,(what is with people and wanting to fuck on the ceiling) usually just end up jumping on the couch and knocking over my lamp. Astronauts go through amazing amounts of lamps. You really can't hurt yourself in those things but they only come in one size, as if we were dressed for the occasion of a meet and greet with a race of stay puff marsh mellow men on the moon. After she gets on the suit, I've zipped her up and she asks how long she can breath in it, she can't hear me so i write it down and press it against her windshield of a face. Slow motion, a lot of people think you imitate the lack of gravity or those epic hollywood movie shots when you move slowly in these suits, but it's really just the weight. Yes I tell her she's still pretty (in a forty pound heavier then she was, Michelin tire man sort of way) and when we're making love I don't tell her once that I'm going to take her to the moon. But maybe I should.