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I just got off the phone. That was a well-timed phone call. "Hello baby!"

In a moment, I'll be leaving my house to go have sex. My pre-sex ritual includes (in no particular order): throwing myself down on my bed and flopping around; gnashing my teeth; cooking two eggs and eating them; punching my fist against a door frame on the way by; running up and down the stairs; gulping down half-a-litre of milk; doing fifty pushups; growling like a lion; putting loud music on the stereo; not cutting my fingernails; checking out some pictures of Amelia Earhart; baring my teeth in the mirror; brushing my teeth; staring out the window and stretching; rooting through the condom drawer (where did all the empty boxes come from?); putting fresh batteries in the camera; having a love affair with the couch; getting undressed; no no no save it; getting dressed. (This routine may vary according to the season.)

...Putting on my shoes. Go!