Fudge & Motel Sex

Just returned from the best vacation ever ... at least the best one I've been on in recent years. The destination wasn't especially exotic; just the island (Mackinac, not Barbados). But it was a helluva good time anyway.

We spent the whole week acting like proto-typical tourists ... lots of fudge, espresso, shopping, smoked fish and motel sex. The latter being especially great.

What is it about doing the horizontal mambo in a hotel? Same wife, same moves, different location. And that makes all the difference. I won't go into details, because my kids might read this. Suffice it to say we were almost certainly bothering the people trying to sleep in the next room.

One word on paying extra for the jacuzzi suite, though: Not worth the money. All those bubbles and hot water sound much sexier than they really are. Drop the extra cash on champagne and fudge instead. (Fudge, by the way, is a known female aphrodisiac! Really! I wish I could get the missus to live on the stuff!)

Anyway, starting Monday it's back to the "real" world. No more hotel staffer fawning over our every need. No more maid service. No more motel sex. And though we stocked up before leaving the Great White North, that fudge isn't going to last forever.