Hotels How I Love Thee...

by the Juice

As I prepare for my adventure to Disney World with the clan, I got to thinkin’ how great it is to stay at hotels. Man, I love hotels. It’s not so much the travelin’ part that I like. That’s the part that sucks, with a “S”, “U”, “C” “K” and “S”. But, after all the travelin’? Nothin’ better than stayin’ at a hotel. Dang, I loves it! Maybe it’s the part about not being at the ol’ trailer home that makes it so friggin’ great.

Lets get some clarification here. When I say hotel, I by no means mean motel, either. Ugghhh. I’d rather live as a foreign exchange student in Nicaragua, then stay at a skanky motel. There’s a big difference between that “h” and the “m”. Believe you me. Big difference.


And what’s better to do in a hotel than fuck! Dang! That’s the best! Especially, if it’s with anyone but your significant other. Don’t get me wrong here. I ain’t condonin’ cheatin’. I don’t wanna get called to the witness stand in any divorce proceedin’s because you got an idea, supposedly through me, about takin’ that hot little number that works with you (who’s always wearing mini skirts without stockins and you’re sure she ain’t wearin’ panties because why would she?), to a hotel. At this point, though, I would prefer to digress. However, if you have to get it on with your siginificant other (what the hell does that mean anyway? Who thought that shit up anyway? What’s so “significant” about someone you decided in a moment of heat to spend the rest of you life with? That was probably the most “significantly” stupid mistake of your life?), it’s 9 times out of ten better at a hotel. Maybe because it’s kinda like you’re in a different settin’. So, you’re, like, different people. So, it’s kinda like takin’ someone else to a hotel. Kinda, but without all the excitement of fuckin’ someone who’s not your significant other.

Keep in mind that sex in a hotel is in proportion to the hotel you stay. I hear what you’re askin’. “What do you mean Juice? Usually, when I take my wife to Mexico we stay at Casa De Palmetto Bug. Do you mean it would be better if we stayed at the Hilton?” First things, first. Palmetto bugs? For you folks livin’ in the south, especially Florida , it’s a fuckin’ cockroach. If it looks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it a fuckin’ cockroach. Got it? Good. Now, to your question at hand…

Basically, what I’m tryin’ to sell you here is that the nicer the hotel you take your significant other, the better the fuck. This ain’t no theory folks. This is scientifically proven. I think it was that super scientician in the wheelchair who proved it. He couldn’t come up with a unified string theory, but somehow figured that nailin’ a chick in a fancy hotel is better than in a scummy motel (I shiver at the mere thought of a motel). So, do yourself a favor. If you gotta take you significant other to hotel, take her to the fanciest one you can afford. You’ll thank me for it. It’ll almost be like fuckin’ that hot little mink in the cube next to you. But not really…

Now, watch me bring this full circle here folks. You might want to take your contacts out for this one. Here’s the thing with my trip to Disney World. Knowin’ now my love of hotels, where am I stayin’? In a cabin? WTF, right? IN A FUCKIN' CABIN!?!?!?!? My thoughts exactly. But, that’s what happens when you let the missus do the bookin’ of a vacation. Damn her! One of the best parts and I’m missin’ out on it. Figures! So much for the great hotel sex. It’s alright, though. It’s not like I’ll be nailin’ Jessica Simpson or anything. Shit. I’d even fuck her in a motel…

"Oh, Juice. I just looovvveee hotels. Take me now!"