7 Reasons to have sex right now

Several days ago while surfing the net I came across an article called "7 best times and reasons to have sex".  Just from the title I immediately knew it was written by a woman.  How did I know that?  Seven?  Really?  That many?   If it were written by a guy it would have been titled something like "Why we should have sex right now!"  and there would be only two reasons:

1.  I am awake (and there is ample research suggesting this isn't necessarily important for a guy)
2.  I am breathing

But as was the case with most articles about guys...it was written by a woman and here are some examples of the best times / places to have sex:

1.  Early Morning (just after waking up)
Yea, we all know about the male 'morning chubby'....so this would work for guys.  But my experience (and trust me when I say it is VERY limited) is that no woman wants to wake up and have sex.  Nope....gotta go pee, brush our teeth, wash our face, etc. etc.  By the time all that is done, well....it's noon.

2.  The middle of day
I can only say this would work if one or both partners was unemployed.  Although, I'm sure somewhere in the corporate world at noon you will hear a guy tell his boss, "I'm going to lunch and should be back in about an hour.  Unless she wants to cuddle or something."

3.  Have sex in another room
The suggestion was the living room, shower, or maybe the extra bedroom.  While those are pretty good suggestions, a guy would add a few.
The Kitchen Table - especially interesting during breakfast.  This wouldn't work of course because while the man would do what you see on TV, that is just throw everything on the floor and lift his wife up on the table, it would not work that way with a woman.  Nope, she'd carefully put up the cat shaped salt/pepper shakers, the limited edition Hello Kitty candlesticks, the pumpkin faced place mats, and the large stack of crayon drawings (created by your 4 year old) of people who look like they were involved in tragic farming accidents.  By the time that's all over....the guy will think he's supposed to clean the kitchen rather than have sex in it.
The Guest Room -BUT in your neighbors house.
How cool would that be?  "Say neighbor, can we hang out here for about an hour?  No, no....you guys can go out, we'll lock up."
The Back Seat of the Car - always a classic, always reliable, and especially exciting if you're in the drive through at McDonald's.  "Welcome to McDonald's would you like fries....OH  MY GOD!"

4.  Middle of the night sex
The idea here was if you wake up in the middle of the night....why not?  I agree.  Can you picture this scene:
It's 3:15am.....
"hey baby, you awake?" 
"yes...I am"
(smiling and moving closer) "well, I'm good if you're good"
"touch me again and I'll smother you with your own pillow.  I NEED SLEEP!"
I don't have to tell you which one of those was the guy........

It turns out the best time to have sex really is when each of you is awake and reasonably coherent....although again, not that critical from a guy perspective.  The best place would be anywhere the mechanics would work.  I mean, I'm not an engineer, but there are certain physical limitations and specifications that must be met.  Given those, there are certain places you should NEVER attempt sex.  Places like:

A Yugo (even the 4 door version)
The floor of your child's bedroom.  Mostly because while it might be fun, if your child is a girl one of you might be removing Barbie accessories from places no Barbie accessory should ever be found.
ANY room in your parents home
Your yard.  Especially if you have large dogs.

Now, I appreciate the author's attempt at trying to help.  But truly most guys don't really need help trying to find different times and places to have sex.  No, what we need is help finding a place to get a really good cheeseburger and a cold beer for under $6.00.  Find that, and you'll be a guy hero.

The Dance Competition

Several months ago, no I don't remember how long ago and I'm too lazy to go back and look, I wrote about the dreaded Dance Recital.  This is where your daughter dresses like a street walker and struts out on stage to the blaring sounds of some rap song entitled "I'm Big fo Money".  Anyway, there is another aspect to your daughter taking dance, that is the Dance Competition.  It goes like this:

You sign up your daughter for the dance team.  This means she will have to 'try out'.  The try out involves having her do a 15 second routine without falling down.  That being completed, you wait 4 days for a letter to come in the mail that looks like this:

________________________________________________________________________

Anger Management Studios

Where Dancing Keeps us Calm

Dear    PARENT/ OR SOMEONE RESEMBLING ONE  ;

Congratulations!
INSERT CHILD'S NAME   has been named to our Dance Competition Team!

Please return this acceptance form along with your check within 72 hours.

Regards,

AMS

*I INSERT ADULT SOUNDING NAME, the legal parent or someone who is at least over 21 and claims responsibility for INSERT CHILD'S NAME (preferably the same name as above), hereby agrees to the following:

1. A payment of $500 is due RIGHT NOW to cover expected expenses of the Dance Team.

2. These expenses will be explained later, and I am not allowed to question them.

3. Dance Team practices are at 5:00am every Saturday.  If my child misses a practice I agree to be stripped naked and covered in ants.

4. Dance competitions will be held every three months in exotic places like Uganda.  I am expected to attend these competitions at my expense without question.

5. If my child misses a competition I agree to be stripped naked and covered with ants.

6. A new and revealing costume will be purchased for every competition.  I agree to pay for these without question, regardless of the cost.

7. If I do not pay for the costume I agree to be..….you know what, if you just agree to do whatever the hell we tell you there won’t be a problem.

Sign here ---à________________________________________________

Attach your check here -à

________________________________________________________________________

The first day of practice involves the parent meeting.  At this meeting semi-conscious moms are herded into a small room to go over 'the details' of the competition team.  These details include insuring everyone knows that large amounts of money will need to be paid and the studio has a long tradition of winning the 'Titanium Award' at the Annual NorthEast BiLateral Bicuspid Central County Dance Competition and Cook Off.....so every child had better give a stellar performance or face imprisonment.  Also at this meeting the studio will:

1.  Verify everyone sent in the $500 fee.

2.  Ask for an additional $150 "judges fee" that the studio will handle for each competition.

The moms are then told to leave because the girls don't perform well when parents are watching, and if parents are there the instructors can't use preferred motivation techniques such as attack dogs and whips.

So, for several weeks your wife gets out of bed at some ungodly hour every Saturday and treks out to practice.  Suddenly, one day she hands you a note that says:

Our first competition "The Semi-Annual Sausage Fest and Butter Churning Festival Dance Off" is on (insert date).  The festival begins with the ceremonial cow tipping at 3 in the morning on the first day.  All dancers are expected to attend this event, and our first performance will be at 10am on the first day.  Hotel rooms have been blocked and are at a reduced rate equal to that of most standard home mortgages.
Please send a check for $300 to cover costume costs and expenses.  We have always won this competition.....and we will again.....or else!

You then cash in several stock options and make travel arrangements.  The competition is in FarAway Dirtsville and will take 5 hours by car or 12 hours by plane.  Since your daughters 'performance' is at 10am, you naturally have to be at the venue by 7am.  So after working 8 hours, you pile into the car and drive through a part of country the Blair Witch is afraid to walk through.  You arrive at the hotel at midnight, and after unpacking you get to bed.  You stumble out of bed in about 3 hours and get to the dance venue by 7am so your daughters instructors will be able to:

1.  Verify you have paid your costume fee.
2.  Collect an additional $50 for expenses not planned for but turned up after the studio owner spent all night at the local casino
3.  Check your daughters hair.  (I don't understand what this entails, but I assume they just check to make sure that the child actually has hair)

As you look around at the other parents from other studios, you notice a pattern:

1.  Some of them have matching T-Shirts.  These are festooned with fun sayings like
"Shelby's Dance Studio.  We kick ass" 
This is printed over a photo of a donkey being kicked by a dancer.
"BB Studios.  Shoot for the stars"
This is printed over a photo of a dancer with a shotgun pointed at the sky
"Cletus Studios.  I just love to dance" 
This is over a photo of Gregory Hines.

2.  Most of the parents are carrying around clipboards for making notes when their studio performs.  I once looked over the shoulder of someone and noticed the following notes:
Mary Gail - Smile more
Mary Grace - Stay in line better
Mary Nell - Kick higher
Jennifer - Why aren't you named Mary?

3.  All of these folks are carrying an industrial sized toolbox filled with make-up, hair clips, hair bows, extra shoes, extra tights, small furry woodland creatures, hats, socks, earrings, combs, brushes, small firearms, and a fully stocked and functional wet bar.

Now this is compared to YOU....sitting in your "Kiss the Cook I'm Irish" shirt while carrying around a garbage bag with extra clothes.....some of them being your own.

So, after 8 hours the competition is over and it's time to announce the winner.  Awards are 'tiered' starting at Gold, then moving to Silver, Metallic Aluminum, Yellow, Purple, Bronze, Almond, Light Purple, etc.  Everyone wins an award.....even the ones that fell down a lot. 

At the next dance practice you are told the studio won a "Chartreuse".....which is just above Bronze but right below Metallic Aluminum....and no, nobody explains what that exactly means....except that it was a good thing....so shut up and just be happy it is over.  At least for now.  Since they were awarded a Chartreuse they qualify for Nationals.  These are held in IRAN over the Christmas holidays.

You should start saving now.

The 12 foot pipe

So, OK....now I am 50.   I know that because my children remind me daily:

Dad, don't stay in the heat, you are 50 now remember?
Dad, you shouldn't drink so much Dr. Pepper.  You are 50 now.
Dad, just because you are 50 doesn't mean you can go outside without wearing pants.

Now that I am 50, my children really want me to get a colonoscopy.  For those of you who don't know:

Colonoscopy (Web Definition):  a visual examination of the colon (with a colonoscope) from the cecum to the rectum; requires sedation.
Colonsocopy (Manspeak):  the insertion of a 1/4 inch diameter 12 foot piece of PVC pipe into your butt while a doctor looks through it with a flashlight; demand sedation.

Why do my children want me to have this done?  They tell me it's so I will "live longer"....and that will allow time for me to build some type of wealth they can inherit.

I am not saying I won't get one, I will.....but I have thought at length (approximately the time it takes to drink an entire bottle of Merlot) as to why this is difficult for me and I have arrived at a hypothesis.

Men cannot fathom the idea that there are important parts located INSIDE their body.  Men have everything they feel is important located OUTSIDE, where it can be kicked, punched, photographed (and posted on the internet if you are a member of Congress) and possibly attacked by squirrels.  The fact they are on the outside allows a man to carefully inspect his parts (and depending on his current dating status some days the inspection can be time consuming and VERY detailed).  He already knows they are fine....the very idea he has parts inside his butt that need inspection is a foreign thing.

Women have their parts INSIDE, safely protected by the skeleton, skin, pantie hose, girdles, the need for a wedding ring, and blue jeans.  However I must state that women have far worse things done to them by medical professionals...and their children.  I think the perfect Mother's Day card would read something like:

I know I can make you aggravated
But I know each day you love me more.
If you didn't, you would not have tolerated
Pain like pushing an elephant through a cat door

So anyway I am pondering planning for the eventual consideration of having a colonoscopy.  There are several reasons why I am hesitant.

1.  Did you read the part about the 12 foot pipe?  I'm just saying.
2.  I really don't want to know if something is wrong.
3.  Did you READ the part about the pipe?  Seriously, I'm just saying.

So, as luck would have it I am at the magical age where doctors have determined there is a need to put a pipe in my butt.  Seriously, when I ask why I need to do this I'm told "it's because you're 50".  My question then is what are you going to shove in me (and through what orifice) when I turn 60? 
So I guess I have talked myself into it and I'll go have this done.  I can only imagine the scene:

I am laying on my side, butt sticking out.  The doctor is seated holding the PVC pipe in his hand.  There are at least 25 other people in the room, all billing me by the hour.  In the background the song  Under Pressure (the Queen version) is playing. 

"Just relax and count to 10" I will hear a voice say over the text alert from someones cell phone.  I start to drift off and hear "wow, check out this youtube video".  Once I am asleep, the doctor will position the pipe thusly into my rear (by hammering it in there with a mallet) and have his trusty assistant hand him a flashlight.  "Looks dark" he will comment as he makes shadow puppets in the pipe.  "Hellooooo" he will shout into the pipe.  "Guess no one is home".  The entire room will burst into laughter.

I've just talked myself out of it again.

The GameStation 9000

OK....so maybe I am a big kid....but I like playing video games.  It is kind of neat to live out a fantasy life where reality and common sense don't apply and you make all the rules.  You know, just like The US Congress.  I've had my fair share of video game consoles....Nintendo, Playstation, SEGA and the always popular ATARI.  At one point, the cable company in Lake Charles had something called the "SEGA Channel" where you played games on TV!  Sure, it's not a big deal now....but back in 1995 it was awesome.  Games have come a long way since Mario chased Peach around while some cretin turtle kept hiding her....but game players...well, they are all the same.

Once, while my nephews were at my house playing SEGA I noticed the oldest one sitting on my floor very involved in "Dr. Robotnkick's Mean Bean Machine".  As I looked closer I noticed he was bouncing.  "Creedence" (no, that's not his real name) I asked "are you OK?"  "I'm fine Uncle Mark" he said without moving his eyes off the TV.  Several minutes later little Creedence peed on himself.  Yup, 10 years old too.  "What possible reason would you have for not going to the bathroom?"  I asked.  "I was on my last bean" was the sincere reply.  Well, far be it from me to risk the last bean rather than have my carpet stained.  My dog didn't pee in the house...my nephew did.

My son, at 10 years old, could manipulate SONIC through a series of mazes that looked like they were developed by some acid crazed lunatic...yet he could not remember to 'right side' his pants when he put them on.  Add to this, he actually had some difficulty figuring out why his pockets were on the outside of his pants.  "Hey dad, is it supposed to look like this?"

Saturday mornings my kids would spend hours moving a character around a maze leaving bombs at strategic points to blow up the enemies on the screen.  (Bomberman)  This took planning, timing, and patience.  At 11 years old this was a pretty cool thing....except these same children could not navigate my house in order to get dirty clothes where they belonged or toys back in the correct room.  

My son, playing a 'shooter game', could plan an imaginary attack on a small village which included planning the approach, the directions taken once inside the village, timing of each stop, and an exit strategy.  This would including rescuing imaginary hostages in a dark room while it's raining (with flashes of lightening every 4 seconds) various other characters shooting lasers at his character, and a sound track that sounded like a cat was being forced (using a pressure washer) through a 1 inch diameter pipe. 

He would complete this task successfully, without any problems.  However, asking him to help clean the kitchen and put the dishes away was pandemonium.  "Who put the milk in the pantry?"  "Why are there dirty dishes in the oven?"  "Why is the dog in the trash can?".

Psychologists might argue that living out a fantasy is a good thing now and then.  Being able to set your own rules, have no consequence to your actions, and living outside of reality is great....but I would suggest you just run for Congress to get that.....not spend hours in front of the television.