Have you ever walked passed someone and thought, “Wow I would love to fuck the shit out of you?” (If you said no, you are lying by the way). Anyway, the physical attraction might be enough to entice the idea, but once your hottie of choice opens his or her mouth, and nothing comes out, your vagina dries up/your penis runs for cover. Well, the same thing goes for writing. You can have so many ideas, but sometimes, after playing around with them for a while, you realize that they… well, suck.
Someone needs to get laid, or buy a vibrator…
It’s Monday, June 7, 2010. The time, 7:30 in the morning. I have been up since around 6, because every idea I had for an article last night got tossed to my bedroom floor after a page into brainstorming. Too tired to think, and too tired to masturbate… to help myself get into the mood to think about sex, I collapsed face down on my laptop.
As I sat around this morning, scrambling for last minute ideas, I took a second to reminisce about the days when I was writing the sex column for my college news paper. All of a sudden, the light bulb went off, and I thought to myself, well, there was that time when my ex-boyfriend literally banged a topic out of me.
It also got me thinking about an awesome slogan that should be printed across the walls of every doctor’s office, An Orgasm A Day Keeps The Doctor Away.
Anyway, let’s take a trip down memory lane, shall we?
A few nights before one of my deadlines for The Banner, (my college newspaper), I was going on and on about how I was having a hard time thinking about a topic for my next article. As my blood pressure began to soar, I was interrupted by Kris whispering sweet nothings into my ear. “My penis is hard.” I laughed. All it took was a simple glide of his hand over my skin to shut me up. I thought to myself, oh what the hell, if having sex doesn’t get me into the mood to write about it, I don’t know what will.
Along with my body, my mind was stripped of all its glory. In the heat of the moment, our bodies became one. I no longer cared about deadlines, or the fact that I gained six pounds since I started dating Kris.
A beam of sweat dripped off my forehead landing on my face, hitting me like a ton of bricks. “I got it!” I screamed out, disregarding the fact that I probably woke up the whole neighborhood. My mind went blank just like the Microsoft Word Document that I was staring at earlier in the evening. I, once again, saw nothing but a bright light. Yet, instead of blinding my vision, it guided my vivid imagination.
The following night, I found myself back at square one once again as I tried to reach the land of milk and honey and my 750 word minimum for my article. What happened to the girl who once oozed self-confidence? There was once a girl who was ambitious and spoke her mind without caring about what others thought about her. Well, now she felt like a slacker. A washed up Carrie Bradshaw… minus the expensive shoes.
It was now 12:48 p.m. on judgment day, a.k.a. print day. A cup of coffee and a bagel this morning turned into, oh, no one is home, let’s have a quickie.
Since I started this article two days prior, I had sex five times. Believe it or not, that’s the amount of times the average couple has sex IN A WEEK. As I got ready to run out the door, sex hair and all… I couldn’t help but to laugh to myself. I had writers block, writing about how sex cures writers block.
Kris and I might have broken up, but I like the slogan I should pitch for doctors offices around the world. I came up with one for myself. My right hand and vibrator will keep the writers block away.
10 comments