Mother Nature, 1; Me, 0

I’ve been cockblocked. AGAIN.

See, Mother Nature, for some reason, was all like, “Oh? What’s that? You’re only going to see your Guy for three days during the whole winter break? Well, gosh, that sounds like a great time to give you your period! Have fun, sweetie!” Fucking bitch. I mean, seriously, maybe Ms. Nature could work on making it light out for longer than 5:00 pm instead of trying to mess up my sex life. (Okay, Mother Nature, I didn’t mean that thing about you being a fucking bitch. And also I didn’t mean it when I said it again just now. So maybe you could just call off this whole bleeding-from-places-I-want-to-have-sex thing? Pleeeaseee?)

Right now, I am just keeping my fingers crossed that this whole little nuisance goes away before I go out to see the Dude. And if not, at least I’ll be in a big city, with lots of super-tall buildings to jump off of.

Seriously, though, not getting any is just not a possibility. I may die. Of sexdeprivationhornitosisim. It’s a real medical condition, with science and everything. Look it up. I mean, I don’t want to give anybody their red wings, but I also don’t want to go to an early grave. Maybe it will at least go away long enough for shower sex?

I was asking all my girlie friends if they knew of any magical vodoo to stop those monthly shenanigans in their tracks, but nobody did. One of my friends said, “Just do it anyway. I have. And I mean, think about it, it’s just extra lube.” GDHSGBDSHBJ. There’s looking on the bright side, and then there’s really looking on the bright side, and then there’s that.

Whatever. I’m just going to be a hopeful little hoping thing, and at least either way I get to taste some delicious delicious…hmmm, what’s a less dirty word for “cock”? (Come on, no one says “I get to taste some penis.”) Plus, in all seriousness, I am just super-duper happy to see the Guy. I was going to write some corny-but-true shit about how stoked I am to get to snuggle with him and whatnot, but I just really can’t mesh that with a whole post about how my period is cockblocking me. So, to cut it short, keep your fingers crossed for me, Internet!

 

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Getting C-Blocked by Sickness

I am sick.

My family doesn’t believe in doctors, mostly on account of the fact that they cost money and we used to be really poor and now we’re average mid-level poor. And I don’t really believe in doctors either, because two years ago, I had to do a walk-in at a hospital because I was a.) seeping pus from my eyes (SEXY), b.) coughing up blood (not bloody mucus, blood. ALSO SEXY), c.) having like seven nosebleeds a day (WHAT’S SEXIER THAN THAT?), and d.) was basically just really fucking sick. Sounds awful, right? I mean, I never went to med school, but I’m pretty sure those aren’t the symptoms of good health. Long story short, he prescribed me allergy medicine. Soooo. Not really feeling the MDs.

But I’ve had a rattling, gravel in a blender-meets-Fran Drescher cough for over two weeks, not to mention a runny nose and a headache. And still, I’m like, fuck the doctor, whatever, I’ll ride it out. (Preferably with an adorable little pug to keep me company, like Marie/Kirsten here.)

BUT NOW MY SICKNESS IS COCKBLOCKING ME. And that, my friends, is unacceptable.

I’m just gonna do what I do best and overshare: I was trying to give a classy bathroom beej the other day (it was the Guy’s bathroom, not one at, like, TGI Friday’s, so don’t overreact) and I had to keep stopping to come up for air. It was like scuba-diving, but with dick. Seriously, though, nothing makes me feel worse than when the Guy is saying, “Don’t stop,” and I have to be all, “Holla, holla, breath break.” BUZZKILLINGTON.

Then shit got really real when me and the Guy were in the moment (e.g., getting some) and I started coughing so hard we had to stop.

NOnononoNOnoNO. No.

I want THAT, not a box full of tissues. I think I’m a pretty easygoing person, but once you get between me and my getting mine, well, nyet. But, alas, I’m still sick. So I guess I’m going to curl up with my teddy bear and just cross my fingers that I at least dream something hot.

Oh, yeah, and Happy Turkey Day–all you betches better be thankful you’re still healthy enough to fuck.