Tell Us Your Tales of Sex, Interrupted

I’m not talking like, “I was tired, so we just stopped and fell asleep” comfortable sex stuff that happens about 18 months in. I’m talking “the building was on fire,” or “I started going into labor” or “he took out his phone and started checking Facebook” (timely peg: according to a survey discussed in Time this week, 5% of people say they’ve used Facebook during sex, which is as good a reason as any to stop). Her girlfriend walked in. The elevator got unstuck. You called him the wrong name. You got arrested. Details!

To get you started, here’s the winner of the first pissing contest where we asked you to share sloppy St. Patrick’s Day stories, courtesy of the lovely horsenpony:

Chicago: 2007: living with my roommate

Her shady ex some how managed to put together a “drunk trolley” thing. 4 hours. 25 people on the trolley. First stop? Binny’s liquor store. Loaded up on beers and we’re off. About 30 mins in, first major stop, Wrigleyville bars. Shots, Shots Shots. People start trying to get on the trolley. A fight breaks out and the driver pulls away. Hour in, first person wants to go home. Trolley drops him off in front of his apartment, all the females on the trolley ask to use his bathroom. At least 5 of us were crammed in this tiny bathroom. I opted to pee in the bath tub and then “run the water” thinking I was cleaning it up. Hour 2: Drunk guy on trolley lifts up the window and proceeds to try to pee out of it whilst riding down LSD. Then hour 3 and 4 are hazy. I wake up in my bed with a Dunkin Donuts Egg and Cheese bagel stuck to my pants. I proceed to eat it. My roommate vomited in a flower pot.

You know what to do.

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