Dear Christy,

Is it OK to have sex in your backyard in the summer?

--Heating up

Ass in the grass:

If you want to pound your piece in the yard, maybe you should slip 'n' slide when it's not 95 degrees.

However, if you like to kill two ostriches with one stone: While you're getting slimy in the sod, you can purge last night's whiskey through your sweaty skin holes. (Mmm. Detox-i-licious.)

Public nudity and indecent exposure laws are a bit hazy (remember that broad in Boulder who got busted for topless gardening?).

christy fantz
Christy Fantz

It would appear that the authorities' main concern would be the presence of children in the vicinity. If you have a chain-link fence, live across the street from an elementary school and proceed to smack uglies during recess, then we can all assume you'd probably get in trouble.

Now if you have a fully enclosed fenced-in yard that masks your hairy ass from the likes of Jehovah's Witnesses, then have your man pop that cherry like a PBR.

(But, when the neighborhood perv hears you squealing like a chinchilla, he'll find a knot in the fence. After rubbing one out to your block-party porn, he'll get arrested. So thanks for that, we guess.)

Once upon a liver ago, I lived in the lofts above the Whiskey Bar in Denver. Aside from the demise of my pickled organ that was once named "liver," I have an outdoor sex story.

Not me. Relax.

The small of it: Two pals of mine pounded on the rooftop, cops came, dude pal went to jail -- not for the hanging wang, but a missed court date (pesky warrants) -- and girl buddy went back to bed.

So try it. If your neighbors complain, say it's your squeaking pet narwhal, whose horn is stuck in your compost bin.

(Just the) tip: Have your man brand his bitch by plopping your naked ass on the hot grill. A sweet tale for the grandkids.

(Note: I am not an authority on this matter. I am only an authority on causing distress amongst conservatives with written word.)

Good talk.

Dear Christy,

What's the weirdest fetish you've come across?

--Just curious

Curiosity kills the creature:

Hey, I'm supposed to be in your pants.

Beat it. Kick rocks. SCRAM.

I don't really research fetishes for the fuzz of it -- only when you crazy bastards write me poems about foreign fixations that make Fantz's virgin eyes blush. (I'm probably just stoned.)*

In other's pants, there are some fetishes that don't quite strike my fancy. People are stinkin' weird, man. Some get all boned up over weird shit like rubbing their genitals in urine, cutting holes in teddy bears, human feces, adult babies, woolies, furries, etc.

The list goes on.

I'm not going to.

What happened to the good old-fashioned stick it in the hole?

As for Fantz's pants? Wouldn't you like to know.

Now I'm gonna go bang my husband in the neighbor's Beemer, so, until next week.

*Kidding, boss.