Guess where we are this week! Here’s a hint:

It’s Disney, bitches! <— that should be their new slogan, it’s trendy, hip, and a sassy Donald could totally pull it off. 

Anyhoo, while I’m gone, I’ve asked some of my favorite funny people to “Please, please, share some of your awesomeness with my readers!” and they said yes (even after I made it clear this wasn’t a paying gig).

Today’s guest post is by my most favorite skank in the whole wide world, Shay from Trashy Blog.  A self-proclaimed Magazine Whisperer, she’ll make you laugh until you’re crying.  I swear it, people, read her stuff…after this, of course.

P.S. – Dear Burglars, our house is NOT empty. We obviously needed someone to stay with the dogs. But Mr. Bojangles says you’re welcome to stop by for a cuddle, just call first because he hates surprises…

 

What Cosmo Doesn’t Tell Us

 

A friend approached me as I was leaving the gym the other day. “I saw you running on the treadmill, but I didn’t want to interrupt you to say hi since you seemed very into your Cosmo,” she said.

I recoiled in horror. “Bitch, please! I don’t read Cosmo! It was a People. I find celebrity gossip much more useful than the stupid sex tips in Cosmo, as I try to avoid sex as much as possible.”

“But wait,” she said, “I’ve heard you say that you used to be a skank.” (Do I say it that often, by the way? Like I’m proud of it or something? Like I still believe that the guys from my skanky past wanted to be with me because of how insanely hot I must have been looking those certain nights and not because…well, simply because I was an available skank at last call? Because I totally know better. Totally…)

“Sure,” I replied, shrugging, “but that was before, when I was single and it was with random people. The world was my oyster. Now I live in the land of the mundane. There are about a million other things I’d rather be doing—like eating Cheetos, cleaning the bathroom, or changing a shitty diaper—than having sex with my husband.”

My friend started laughing like I was kidding. Cute little thing has been married for about two years and still loves doing it with her hubs. So sweet.

“You know what I’d like?” I continued, rudely breaking off her laughter. “I’d like a magazine that gives tips on how to avoidhaving sex with your husband. Where the hell is that magazine?”

I decided that since the writers of Cosmo magazine don’t seem to understand what women truly want, I’d share the tricks I keep up my sleeve as a little guide for the real women of the world.

Here, I present to you tips that you might actually find useful in a little listy I like to call:

 

Trashy Blog’s Six Tips for Getting out of Sex with Your Husband

1. Say this when he asks you to have sex: “I already had it with my boyfriend like 10 times today. I’m kind of tired…”

2. When he persists, say this: “I have chlamydia?” Keep it in question form so he knows damned well that you don’t, but that you’d be willing to go catch it to get out of sex with him. (Some of these tips will make you look like a real asshole, by the way…but remember, it’s all for a good cause.)

3.

Seriously, there shouldn’t need to BE a number 3 after the first 2. Even if they don’t believe us, they should be so disgusted by our antics for getting out of sex with them that they give us a pass. Ugh. What the hell is wrong with husbands these days, all wanting to have sex with their wives and shit?

4. Fart. I did this one time just as we were getting ready to get down and dirty in the very beginning of our marriage. My husband laughed and said, ”If you’re trying to turn me off, it’s not working.”

DAMMIT it’s hard being this sexy.

I hadn’t actually been trying to turn him off, but I filed that response away for future knowledge. I knew that if it was in the back of his mind, then someday—granted, maybe a couple years down the road; I just had to be patient—it would be enough to turn him off. And I was planning to try.

5. “How‘bout them Duggars?”

6. Breathe on him. Holy shit, this story is so embarrassing that I’m going to turn red while I’m typing it, just as I turned red in the coffee shop when I told my friends about it…but isn’t that what blogging is all about? Embarrassing yourself for a greater cause–or at least a little bit of negative attention?

The hubs and I were sitting down for date night one Thursday night. We had put the kids to bed about an hour prior to when I finally joined the hubs on the couch after doing my nightly routine of cleaning up and getting things ready for the next day.

I sat down next to the hubs with my freshly-poured glass of wine, and suddenly he wrinkled his nose. “Do you smell that?” he asked, turning toward me, where I was all snuggled up next to him.

I shook my head. “No. What does it smell like?”

He scrunched up his face into a disgusted grimace. “I don’t know. Like…puke…and wine.”

I looked down at my wine glass and then back at him. I think we may have both realized it at the same time. “It’s probably my breath,” I said.

The hubs tried to be nice. “No. NAH, it COULDN’T BE! I mean, you haven’t puked tonight, right?” But I could see that he had already accepted it just like I had: He was smelling my breath mixed with the wine.

I have no clue why it smelled like puke; stranger things have happened. The point was, it did.

When I told my friends about it the next day at coffee, I said, face blazing with embarrassment, “I guess I need to pick up some breath strips while I’m at Wal-Mart today.”

My asshole friend Nancy goes,“Why? So your breath can smell like puke…and breath strips?”

I give up. I fcking give up.

Alright, peeps, so give them a try and report back. I’d love to hear how my tips worked for you. And if you’re one of those married women who, after 29 years, still loooooveshaving sex with her husband…

…quit lying. Let me know how the tips work for you, too.

Trashy Blog was created and is written by Shay, who withholds her last name not to be all Beyonce, but instead to preserve a bit of anonymity–because have you seen the trash she puts out there? Trashy Blog is updated once a week, normally on Fridays when Shay has time to kick back with a beer and trash her skanky little heart out. Check her out at www.trashyblog.com.

 

 

 

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