The fine art of spanking...

Hypothetically speaking (of course), would you rather be spanked or do the spanking? I figure that - either way - it's going to hurt. And I don't know about you but the palm of my hand carries a lot less padding than what the French call mon derriere (to be precise, the French spell it with a descending accent from left to right on the second "e" but blogspot won't let me do accents).

What's brought this on I hear you ask? It's a bit of a lurid topic for a Tuesday late afternoon... Well let me ask you this: is there an appropriate time for this kind of conversation? Dinner with the in-laws on a Saturday night perhaps? Over lunch with the stranger next to you on a packed long haul flight? Or maybe over organic white tea with Lady Gaga on a break from her tour? (The last one probably but that's unlikely to happen, no matter how many FB contests I enter on her fan page. Mama Monster, if you're reading this I just want you to know that I think you're the best, even better than Madonna in her heyday, and that you're making me feel like I'm 15 again but in a good way.)