Hump Day Hangover 6

If you want to know what this is all about, go here.

Over the last few weeks, I have been asked about the Hump Day Hangover rules and what we count as sex and what we don’t count. We have been given a ton of suggestions that we have been taking into account, but to make it easier on ourselves, we have come up with 5 rules. They are pretty simple and easy to remember, which is good, because I am too busy having sex to take time to remember some silly rules.

In case you are wondering (and I know you are) here are our rules:

1. Any act with the word “sex” in it can be used as one of the 700 times.
2. Such act MUST end in an orgasm to be able to be counted. For instance, if I just tickle Leland’s cock with my mouth a little before we commence with the shagging, that is not sex, just foreplay.
3. Sex acts must be a team sport. Playing solo may be a good time, but does not earn a ticker on the scoreboard.
4. Unless is it oral, each act must be with either one penis and one vagina, OR (though we haven’t been there yet) one anus and one penis. Hand jobs and fingers do not count. Neither do vibrators.
5. We both need to make sure we are doing an equal amount of work. If Leland is on top one time, then I need to be on top the next. We break this rule fairly often because Leland is always the only one with energy for morning sex. He just climbs on while I lay there and do nothing.


Just for fun, here are some terms you may want to familiarize yourself with:

Trifecta: This happens when I give Leland a blowjob and then he returns the favor. Shagging occurs immediately after. Bam! Three more numbers on the scoreboard.

Bisexta: We do this when either I have a cold and can’t breathe through my nose to give head, or if I have my period and it would just be gross for Leland to give me head. Only one of us gets the pleasure of oral first and then shagging follows immediately after. Two times down.

Lazy sex: This is usually morning sex when I am being lazy and not doing ANYTHING.

Failing: Not having sex.

Succeeding: Having sex every single time Leland gets a random hard-on. Whenever Leland gets a boner he is all over me for sex. If I push him away or tell him no, he always asks, “Do you want to fail, or do you want to succeed?” It works nearly every time and we end up doing a hot dance.

I am pretty sure I have already turned Leland into some sort of sex addict and we are only 6 weeks in. We’ll have to see how this progresses. And if he is an addict, at least he knows he can get it from his wife.


Postscript:
Leland and I are leaving this afternoon to visit his brother in Shreveport, LA. I have never met his brother, sister-in-law or their two sons. I’m pumped and so excited to get the hell out of town for awhile. It’s a 14 hour drive, but it’ll be a quick trip because we have to be back at work on Monday. I probably won’t be reading blogs or leaving comments. Have a great rest of the week and a happy Easter!

Dusting Bones

While Leland was away in Puerto Rico a few weeks ago, I did a lot of house cleaning. For those of you who don’t know, I HATE cleaning and am allergic to the vacuum. But for some reason I was bitten by the spring cleaning bug. Every day after work I came home and cleaned.

We have a bowl in our kitchen that has every single chore written on a tiny piece of paper. All pieces of paper are folded up and placed in the bowl. Whenever we have to/want to do chores, we pull a piece of paper from the bowl and it tells us what to do. They are all small, easy projects like dust the piano or wash the bathroom mirror. Every day while Leland was gone, I pulled 7 chores out of the bowl. I ended up doing laundry, dusting the shelves in the office, cleaning the toilet…and I could go on and on.

Everything was going great until I pulled dust death shrine out of the bowl.

Leland and I live in an old house. The house has one narrow hallway on the main floor, and in that hallway is a little shelf that many people used to keep their telephones on. Since we don’t have a home phone, the shelf sat empty for many months. We just couldn’t decide what to put there.

Until Leland was unpacking some boxes and found a raccoon skull that he had been saving.

The raccoon skull was placed on the shelf, and soon it was accompanied by an otter skull and a bird skull. The death shrine was officially born. Now the death shrine holds those 3 skulls, along with two dragonflies and two cicadas. Whenever we have new people over to our house, Leland always makes sure to point out the death shrine.

Anycreepy, though I have walked past the death shrine a million times, I have never touched it. I am totally cool with the otter skull and raccoon skull, because they have both been bleached and clean. The bird skull, however, still has a feather attached to it. And though I am not afraid of bugs and have gotten over my fear of spiders, I still don’t want to touch the bugs.

No thank you.

But the chore jar gods wanted me to clean it, so I cleaned it. Touching the dead bugs and little tiny birdie skull definitely gave me a case of the hebee jebees. Because the bugs were so fragile, I had to pick them up by their heads and I was able to feel their eyeballs.

Several minutes of squirming and squealing later, the death shrine was back in order and I declared myself done with chores for the day.

When I sat on the couch with a glass of wine, I felt lucky that the squirrel head was still in the freezer.

Yes.

There is a squirrel head in my freezer.

I’ll tell you about that later.

Tonsil Talk

A little over a year ago I fell in my driveway and hit my head twice. Once on the bumper of the car and then once on the ground. One emergency room visit and CT scan later, the doctor came in the room to tell me he found something abnormal in the scan (insert “we just knew you needed to get your head checked!” jokes).

But other than a concussion, my head was fine. The abnormality that was found was on my thyroid. The CT scan showed two nodules that were going to need to be tested. Sweet.

So I took myself to an ear, nose and throat doctor who was recommended to me by my regular doctor. After a very short wait, I was led to an exam room. Since I waited less than 5 minutes, I was already impressed. When the doctor entered the room, he was friendly and courteous and even cracked some jokes. Wow, I thought to myself, this doctor is great.

That feeling lasted less than 20 seconds. While doing a quick exam, he looked in my throat and said “Wow, those are the largest tonsils I have ever seen.” When I asked what I should do about them, he replied, “just make sure they don’t get any bigger.”

Huh?

How the hell am I supposed to make sure they don’t get bigger?

Then he looked at my CT and ultrasound results and said, “The nodules are probably normal, so just make sure they aren’t growing.”

Again, HUH?

He told me to come back in three months for another thyroid ultrasound.

I left his office and immediately made an appointment with another ENT.

He did a fine needle aspirate on my thyroid nodules and everything came back normal. He said I didn’t need to worry about them unless they started causing me pain or discomfort. Great. No worries. Just what a like.

But then he told me my tonsils were the biggest he had ever seen and that they would need to come out.

That’s what I thought.

But he didn’t take them out because he isn’t a provider on my insurance.

So I still have the largest tonsils known to man.

This same doctor believes they are the cause of my sleep apnea. I guess that when I lay down, my tonsils move closer together and restrict my airway and that is why I wake up a hundred times a night gasping for air. He also said because I am not getting rest, my immune system is being compromised. Awesome. Maybe that is the reason I am feeling under the weather AGAIN.

So I have an appointment on April 7th to get the ball rolling on getting my grande-sized tonsils removed. Because a good night sleep is long overdue.

Hump Day Hangover 5: A Guest Blogger

When I started this little project, I never imagined I would have the response that you have all given me. Yes, I have lost some followers because of it, but I have gained far more than I have lost. We are only a month in and this has become a great journey. The greatest thing about this is that I have learned that there are a ton of people out there who want to talk about SEX. So let's do it. I have decided to open up Hump Day Hangover to ANYONE who wants to talk about sex. Just send me an email and I'll get you scheduled to guest post.

Today I am hosting my first guest blogger ever!
Many of you know T!nk from This is How it Feels. He is awesome, sexy, funny, real and he is my gay. I know I share him with others but that's cool. I have sisters. I learned to share when I was young.

Read what T!nk has to say about his sexcapades. And then go to his site and follow him. He is SO worth the extra blog in your reader!

Without further ado....


I consider myself a classy woman.

I cook, I clean, I never leave the house lookin' a hot mess, you would never find me on peopleofwalmart.com. (<-----I mention them enough they should be my sponsor). I always have my face on*, hair did, outfit lookin' fly, I mean, you never know when you could be signed to Wilhelmina.

I've got home trainin' so I know how to act in public. I am a gracious host/guest, unless you've pissed me off, but even that I will handle in a classy manner. I never attempt to procreate on the first date. If it went well, you will get a kiss and a hug at the end of the night, and if it went REALLY well I might use tongue. I never act like a ho in public.

But I am a sexual being.

I'm a freak in the sheets... or lack of bedding attire, or bedding apparatus thereof.

When I first started becoming sexually active (we can say that, I mean, we're all adults here, no? fine. I'll substitute) I realized that there was one place that was taboo for me to make whoopie.

I mean, I've "bumped uglies" in a church parking lot (where my dad was the preacher), basement, hallway, deep in the woods, back porch at 2am, on the couch, kitchen counter**, on an empty train, down by the river, in the backseat of any model of car you can think of, the shower, kitchen sink, the bed of all models of ford truck, behind a tent in Iraq, mall parking lot, and one time in the middle of the park at 3am. There was one place I had left to discover.

The bed.

I had never "done the do" in my own bed (I once knocked boots in my Dad's bed once as a big F U, but that's another story). When the time finally "came" for me to do the nasty in my own bed, it was like a foreign place to me. It was new, and exciting, and I was afraid I was going to need a special spill kit for my Egyptian Cotton Sheets.

But I didn't just let anyone in my bed. I mean, I'm a classy woman, that's like, personal. A bed is for sleeping and sleeping is intimate? Right? That would mean I had to, like, put myself out there on a more than purely physical level, right? Then I would have to have, like.... substance.

It was then that I realized that I was more than what I could offer in the boudoir. I was smart, funny, intelligent, loving, caring, a real catch. And I'm basically June fucking Cleaver in the kitchen.

If I was such a catch... then why was I giving my goodies away to any gentlemen caller that was above an 8... (on the hottie scale) who had a nice smile and a twinkle in his eye?

I realized then that I didn't feel like I was such a put together woman. And that all that put togetherness on the outside was a mask for the mess inside. The lonely, scared, angry, needy, emotionally dependent little gay boy. And the mattress mambo, for me, became a way of finding love and happiness because I didn't have it within myself.

It was then that I started the journey to love myself. While it's been an uphill battle, it's been one that I am winning. I feel like I love that lonely, scared little boy so much more today than I ever thought I could. And it's not easy. There are days where I am down. There are days when I am too hard on myself. But overall, it's been a good ride.

And when I started dating again, and opened myself up, put myself out there, I did so in my bed. No spill kit, no safety net. One man, on one man. Just as God intended ;-)


Love,




*face on: having 15.5 lbs of MAC makeup on, looking similar to Jan Crouch, she's classy.

**for health reasons, I wouldn't necessarily suggest this surface.

Death Metal Review

For the last couple of weekends, Leland has been playing a lot of shows with his death metal band, Throne of the Wretched. When he started this band, I told him that I would probably not be going to a lot of his shows. Not because I don’t want to be supportive, but because I do not like death metal music.

I went to his first show, well, because it was their first and a lot of our friends were going to be there…so I basically went to hang out with my friends, not to support my husband.

Last weekend Leland played two shows. Again, I wasn’t planning on going, but the singer quit so Leland had to step up and do the vocals. If you didn’t know this by now, Leland is a bit of an egomaniac, so I just HAD to go to the shows and see him as a front man. He did an awesome job, but my intentions aren’t to stroke his ego.

The death metal scene is unlike anything else I have ever seen. At both shows this past weekend, I was one of maybe three women at the venue. I am assuming the other women were also wives or girlfriends of members of the other bands that were playing. The members in all four bands pretty much looked the same. They were all wearing some sort of death metal t-shirt, several of them were promoting Satan with sayings such as Who needs a God when we have Satan? Leland was wearing a t-shirt from a band called Carcass, and other guys were wearing t-shirts from bands called Cannibal Corpse, Maggot Twat, and Tony Danza Tap Dance Extravaganza. Death metal is high class, isn't it?

All of the guys there must have been trying to look metal because they all seemed to wear the same scowl and looked as though they were just waiting for the chance to eat someone alive. If I had encountered any of these guys on a dark street, I would definitely be reaching for my mace and brass knuckles. But I wasn’t on a dark street, so what did I do?

I talked to the scary guys.

As it turns out, they weren’t scary people and didn’t want to eat my face off. Some were soft-spoken and shy, some were friendly and outgoing, some just wanted to talk music. None of them were scary and no one tried to get me involved in any weird Satan worshipping rituals. They were just interested in playing heavy music and supporting the death metal scene.

I found the whole night to be sort of funny. For some reason I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw Leland playing and singing…well, death metal singers don’t really sing, they growl. Leland’s fingers were moving faster than I had ever seen before, and though the music is as far from mainstream as music can possibly get, their musicianship was more technical than I have ever seen. No, I still don’t like the music, but watching the members of all four bands play really made me appreciate death metal.

But not enough to enjoy it when Leland BLASTS the music in the house and in the car.

Homecoming

Leland gets home at noon today and I am so excited. We haven't really been able to talk all week because he has been so busy, and I miss my best friend. And I miss having a man in the house.

I have never lived alone. I moved out of my parents house and into the house I share with Leland. I think because I have never lived alone I now get a little nervous being at home alone when he is out of town. I know, call me crazy (you wouldn't be the first), but when I am spending a significant amount of time at home alone I feel like there is a large neon sign in the front yard telling murderers and rapists that there is a woman alone in the house.

This is why I got a dog. Bacchus has been doing a great job protecting me this week, though it turns out I really didn't need protecting. Every night he would pace the hallway for a while before he went to his closet to sleep. He would stand at the hallway window and growl, what he was growling at I have no idea. But since he never does this when Leland is home, it was actually making me nervous. I thought there might actually be someone outside, drawn in by the large neon sign.

I spent my week working, cleaning and taking walks with the dog. I ate healthy and took care of myself and Leland will be coming home today to a (finally!) healthy wife.

Hump Day Hangover 4

Welcome to my fourth edition of Hump Day Hangover. If you are new to my blog and want to know what this is all about, go here.

By the time Leland gets home from Puerto Rico on Friday, we will be behind our goal by 28. Yep, we will have to continue having sex to stay on top of things, and then have make up sex 28 times. I’m not worried. Leland and I do not have any plans this weekend so I am SURE we will get a good amount of shagging in. Maybe I’ll just tie Leland to the bedposts and leave him there all weekend. Then he will be just waiting there for my pleasure.

Although I was sick last week and had my period, we still made sure to have some sex. My death metal seduction worked, though we had some trouble in the shower. For some reason, we just couldn’t figure out how to do it in the shower. I thought that I could just bend over and Leland could do me from behind, but I failed to realize that Leland is significantly taller than me, and in order for him to do that my ass would somehow have to be higher. I tried standing on my toes but I still wasn’t high enough. I tried putting one leg up, we tried having Leland outside of the shower, Leland tried getting lower. NOTHING WORKED.

What are we doing wrong?

Please help.

It's Up To Me

It’s Monday and I’m back at work. Though I am feeling better, I am still not feeling as awesome as I would like. Oh well, I’ll struggle through and make it through the day and go to bed early.

Leland left today for Puerto Rico. I will be on my own this week, and as much as I like having my alone time, I like it better when he is around. He is funny and makes me laugh all the time, he keeps the house clean, and he motivates…I mean, nags me, to take care of myself.

When he is here, we work out together, make healthy dinners together, go for late evening strolls, and of course, sexercise. When he was in Puerto Rico last month I did not take good care of myself. I didn’t work out AT ALL, I ate crappy food and drank a lot of wine. As much as I HATE admitting it, Leland keeps me healthy.

My goal for this week is to prove that I can take care of myself when no one else is watching. I want to get my body moving every day this week. Since I am still sick I don’t want to fool myself into thinking that I am going to get 5 days of vigorous exercise, but I am going to do some sort of physical activity every day this week. It could mean taking Bacchus for a walk, doing some yard work, playing Wii boxing, or even doing the Shred at the end of the week when I am (goddess help me) feeling better.

As for eating, I don’t have money to buy crappy food, so I will be eating the salmon and shrimp that I have in my freezer.

I don’t need Leland around to be good to myself.

Right?

Right.

The Anti-Post

I am still sick. I plan on watching stupid movies all day long. Leland says I need to drink an ass load of water. Yes, an ass load. That is what he said.

So I am going to lay on the couch, watch stupid movies, and drink an ass load of water.

What are your plans for the day?

Hump Day Hangover 3

As I am sure you can all see by the counter, Leland and I are WAY behind our goal. This week has been particularly difficult because I was sick all weekend long. We were off to a good start on Friday with morning sex and then it all went downhill from there. Our plan was to go to the climbing wall after work on Friday and then go home and have sex at least 2 more times. Yes, we were planning it. I know, not romantic or spontaneous, but we had to fit it in somewhere.

On our way home from the climbing gym that night I started to feel a little tickle in my throat. When we made it home 20 minutes later, my head was stuffed up and I was getting really fatigued. Instead of having sex, I ate dinner and went to sleep.

On Saturday morning I woke up sicker than the night before. My head was all fuzzy, I could barely breathe, and had the chills and body aches. It did not look like we were going to get any shagging in that day either.

Or so I thought.

Leland rolls over and tells me that he is going to warm me up and make me feel better. As much as I wanted to push him away, I knew we were already behind. I did what I had to do for the cause. I spread my legs.

So Leland climbs on top, and maybe 5 seconds after we actually start doing it he says:

Hold on a minute, I have to fart. It’s going to be AWESOME.

And then this follows:

Bbbbbrrrrrrrrrpppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppppp.

It literally lasted about 10 seconds. All while he was inside me waiting for it to end.

I couldn’t make this up if I tried.

Good thing I was stuffed up because I wasn’t able to smell anything.

Sadly, that was all the sex we had last weekend. And now I have my period and Leland usually stays away from me when I am bleeding. I am going to try to coax him into having sex with me by putting death metal music on in the background. That should get him turned on. Or I’ll have him take a shower with me. He can’t be grossed out if he can clean himself up right away.

We really need to have sex this week and weekend because Leland will be out of town all next week (in Puerto Rico again, lucky bastard) and I don’t want to get more behind than we already are. Hopefully the death metal seduction will work.

***The AWESOME picture at the top of the page and button on my sidebar was created for me by Elizabeth at Confessions From a Working Mom. She is a great friend and has an awesome blog. If you don’t know her yet, you should. She rocks my world. Thanks so much for your help Elizabeth!***

My One Woman Revolt

Hello, my name is Alyson and I am a political junkie.

Since I have been 18, I have voted in every single election. Local and national. I research candidates before going to vote to ensure the right person is getting my vote. I pay attention to what is going on in the political world on a near daily basis. Though I am SICK of listening to the health care debates and progress (or lack thereof), I still tune in for my updates. Not only do I want to know about how the economy is recovering, or how world relations are developing, or the directions our 2 wars are heading, I NEED to know. I just can't help it.

Unlike going to the voting box, right now I do not want to stand up and be counted.

The 2010 Census is taking place and I am privately protesting it. I understand that the government uses the census to decide where to allocate government funding, but I still do not want to be counted.

My reasons? The constitution says the government can count us every ten years. Fair enough. Except for the fact that they actually count us every single day of every single year. The check our credit reports, the keep track of what books we check out from the library, they know how much money we make.

I am not an expert, but it seems to me that the government is counting us every year when we file our taxes. For instance, they already know that I am married. They already know my address. They already know that there are only two adults living in my house. Why must they go door to door, asking these questions, along with other personal questions?

And where is all of this information going? Most likely into some government database that will probably be hacked or compromised at some point in time. And then what happens? All of my information is just leaked? That is so not okay with me. Unless I say it is okay, no one needs to know how many cars we have, or if Leland and I are planning on having babies in the next ten years. They don't need to know about any medical issues or the first date of my last period. It is no one's business what we spend our money on or how much we make in donations every year.

So unless the government threatens to put me in jail, I will not be participating in the census this year. I already filed my taxes, count me with that information.

I don't answer my door when strangers come knocking, I will not be answering my door for census workers either.

Copy Cat

In an effort to find ways to work out that are actually FUN, I have started rock climbing.

Actually, wall climbing. I used to do it sort of frequently years ago, but before two weeks ago I think it has been 4 years since the last time I had been climbing.

My sister Swizzlestickmama and I go to the local climbing wall and kick our own asses. We have decided to at least go every Wednesday because Wednesday is ladies night so we can climb for $5 and free rentals. Which is a steal. Swizzle started climbing long before I did and I KNOW I started climbing because I felt like I had to keep up with her. This has been a trend in my life.

As soon as Swizzle did it, I JUST HAD to do it myself.

I know people say that imitating someone is the sincerest form of flattery, but I am sure there were times that Swizzle wanted to tie me up to keep me from copying her yet again. Lucky for me she never did that. Instead, she would just laugh at how determined I was to follow in her footsteps. Or complain to my mother.

Here are just a few examples of things I have done because of my big sister:

1. Blogging. I had heard of people blogging and knew that she blogged, but for the longest time I just wasn’t interested. And then she gave me the URL to her blog and allowed me to read it. I think it was a week later that I called her and asked her to help me set up my own blog.

2. Reading. Yes, I loved to read all on my own, but I actually got a degree in English Literature because of Swizzle. Sort of. In high school she would read stuff by Allen Ginsberg and Williams Burroughs and I had no idea who they were. It killed me that she knew about them and I didn’t. So I started reading more. I started pulling books off of her bookshelf so I would know what she was talking about. At first I thought the books were stupid, but as I got older I started to like them a lot more, and then after going through 17 majors in college, I picked English. It was what I liked and is what I am good at. But if I wasn’t always trying to keep up with Swizzle I may have done something else.

3. Music. Though I do have my own taste in music, and I am sure there have been a few times I have taught her a thing or two about music, I have a collection of music that came straight from Swizzle. I would not listen to Kirsty MacColl, Kasey Chambers or Shannon Curfman if she didn’t listen to them first. I always love when I listen to these ladies with someone else in the car and they think I have the most awesome taste in music. Sometimes I will tell them I got it from my sister. Other times I take full credit for finding them myself.

4. Eating healthier. Swizzle is the queen of veggie burgers. At first I thought they were gross (this was well before I had ever actually tried one) but then I decided to give it a try. Now I prefer veggie burgers. Or turkey burgers. Swizzle was also my inspiration to try being a vegetarian. She is the queen at being an on-again, off-again vegetarian, and one of the times she was on-again, I did it along with her. Leland and I go through phases of what we want to eat and what we don’t want to eat, and we do that for different reasons. But the first time I gave it a try was all about my sister.

5. Rollerblading. Swizzle loves to rollerblade. Though I am sure it is tough to do now that she has two little monsters, when we were younger she was ALWAYS on her rollerblades. So what did I start doing? I started keeping them in my car so I could rollerblade whenever I wanted to. Sometimes we would rollerblade together, and sometimes I just call her to tell her I went rollerblading to rub it in.

I am sure this list isn’t even close to being complete, but making this list is starting to make me feel very unoriginal. Now that I am older, I definitely do things my own way and for my own reasons, but Swizzle influenced me a lot when we were kids. But I love climbing. It is an awesome cardio and muscle building workout. And I just feel very cool doing it…although the harness isn’t flattering at all. And often crawls up places it shouldn’t be.

Please check out Swizzle's link at the top of the page for her side of the story.

In other news, Mrsblogsalot has given me her own Must Read Award!



I was so excited to see that she thinks I am a must read. I knew I would lose some readers when I started posting about our 700 escapade, but I never thought that someone would think I was a must read because of it. THANK YOU SO MUCH Mrsblogsalot. You rock my world!

Hump Day Hangover

Per reader request, I will have Leland share his thoughts on our little project every once in a while. So without further adu, here is Leland for this week's episode of Hump Day Hangover.

As you are probably aware, Alyson and I have quite the endeavor planned for the next 12 months. I was told that there is some interest in hearing my perspective regarding this matter. I would be happy to share, because quite frankly, why wouldn’t I be?

First off, I will provide some background. My sexual drive has been increasing the past few years. The statement Alyson made in a past post regarding me having 10 erections a day is actually pretty accurate. On average, I would say I get 5 or more random hard-ons a day. I use the word “random” because this happens even when nothing remotely sexual is playing itself out in my mind. I’ll just be at work, drafting a protocol outlining the operational process for a pharmaceutical packaging machine, and BAM! There is my dick, trying to punch through my pants like a person trying to break the window of a burning vehicle with the doors wedged shut. Sometimes, it becomes so uncomfortable that I have to masturbate in order to continue working. Let me tell you, if you have never been paid to get your own rocks off at work, you’re missing out! It’s a win-win situation.

I’ve talked to some of my buddies about my priapismic tendencies. They are all in their twenties, and all of them have said that this sort of thing stopped for them years ago. So here I am, 29 years old, and my penis has the determination of a cock half its age. I theorize that all the weightlifting I’ve done these past few years has spiked my testosterone production, but in the end, I really don’t know what’s happening.

Nonetheless, I was pleasantly surprised when Alyson thought that having sex 700 times in one year was a sweet idea. It really will help us to get into shape, and maybe my random erections will decrease as a result. Most importantly, I think doing this will decrease our frequency of arguments and keep us in a good mood. I mean, how can someone be in a shitty mood if he or she is getting laid all the time? So, for all the ladies out there that talk about “not being in the mood," I just say fuck it...literally.

I Have Sex For Tips

I have spent this past weekend worrying about money. Though money is usually tighter than I would like it to be, this week is especially tight because we have a few extra things that we have to pay for. As hard as I try to budget for everything, something always comes up, there is a bill that gets lost in the shuffle, or my gas bill ends up being twice the amount that I expected it to be.

So now my budget is all screwed up, I am keeping my fingers crossed that we make it through the week without being overdrawn, and trying to figure out how to make it through the week without any food in the house.

Do you feel bad for me yet?

That’s good.

Because I need your help. I thought that if I gave you all a small sob-story that you might be more willing to help.

No, I don’t want you to buy me food. If we are starving, I know my mom and dad will feed us (that is okay, right mom?), and if we are overdrawn at the end of the week, we’ll survive. Leland’s paycheck will be deposited and the fees will be paid. It’s not ideal, but we’ll deal with it.

What we need is more important than food and money.

WE NEED CONDOMS.

And lube.

While I was fretting over my budget, Leland told me that we were running short on condoms. And then he pointed out that we were going to need A LOT to get us through the year. Our lube as been squeezed dry. Crunching numbers, I realized that our 700 times a year project will end up costing us about $450.

We decided we need sponsors.

OR A TIP JAR.

I know there are a ton of web savvy people out there. If you find a website that is giving away free condoms or coupons, let me know.

If you want to send us a box of Trojan Magnums, send me an email and I’ll give you my address.

I know a lot of my readers are past the condom buying stage, but think of buying condoms as a fun way to spend a Monday night. You can pretend you are in high school and sneaking around behind your parent’s backs. Or buy only condoms and lube and then try and make the checkout person as uncomfortable as possible. Talk with him/her about really inappropriate things just to watch them squirm.

This is the one thing I can’t go to my mom for. She wants grandbabies and would prefer we don’t use condoms anyway. I have sent both Trojan and MensHealth.com emails asking them for help as well.

Please take pity on me and my cause. And of course, if I get my book about this project published, I will be sure to add the names of everyone who helped in the acknowledgments.