Change the image on the television to some hardcore porn and you have the viewing pleasures of the collection of middle aged men staying in the building next to us.
No, I wasn't intentionally looking in their windows or anything like that. Here's the story:
Last night, Sarah and I took the pooch out for a walk after watching a movie. It was fairly late, so we went to our usual place over behind the new building next to ours. As we're walking, I look up towards all the lights that are on in one of the condos and see some serious sexy time taking place on the television.
I laugh, tell Sarah and proceed to lament the sad state of affairs that is this particular collection of gentlemen. While I certainly don't know them from Adam, there is something about stealing away for a golf weekend with your fellow fortysomethings and watching all kinds of porn that is well, sad.
Sure, I watched porn with the boys a time or two in my life, but it was when I was between the ages of 16 and 25, max. A snowball stands a better chance in hell than the likelihood of me spending a weekend away with the lads in my mid-40s watching a bunch of porn.
Anyway, what makes it worse is that when I took the little mongrel out for the same stroll this evening, guess what was on the television?
You guessed it... porn!
Two questions jump to mind:
"What's on tonight, Jim?"
"Not much, Tony. Whattaya say we throw on some porn?"
"Sounds great! I'll tell the others. Somebody make some popcorn."
Now this has become a sociological experiment, as you can be damn sure that once the sun goes down tomorrow night, me and Luke will be out in the darkness behind that building, watching to see if it's a porn-with-the-boys weekend.