So, I'm getting my cervix hacked off tomorrow (Leep procedure) and I'm looking around on the Good Vibrations site for condoms once I've healed. Curiosity killed me, so I hit a button to see their "specials." I am thinking "what could be special after 10,000 years," but sex is a multi-billion dollar business these days. And I came across (pun intended dammit) a special kit that reminded me of a TV show from a few weeks ago.

I was watching the Osbournes. I'm blaming that fact on something related to the fact that I couldn't find the clicker and that I hadn't started taking synthroid yet, so I was too lazy to get off my big fat ass and go change it. And I saw this guy being kind of giggly and talking about taking off his clothes and having two other guys making fun of him and his ability to get it up through the bathroom door. I'm trying to talk to Mike, read a magazine, and watching this with periodic attention. After a while, I figured out that this guy was taking a mold of his penis. Good Vibrations has a silicon version, by the way.

I thought to myself, "Only a man would have thought of that." Only a man would want his special part to be immortalized as statuary. "Hey, Henry, is that there a penis sitting on the ground by that lawn gnome?"

So zoom forward to today's condom hunt until Mike gets the birthcontrol snip. My synthroid's working. I've got libido and three days has been a long time to not see my husband naked, dammit.

Then I'm looking at that kit and thinking of Mike. And doggone it, if I didn't think, "I need to get me one of those things for Mike." Then I started having a quasi-porn moment of imagining trying to make the mold. Good Vibrations is so kind as to give you two molds, so you can screw up one.

Then reality hits.

What would really happen instead of this quasi porn moment with my husband is that we'd be in the bathroom, after we were sure the kids went to bed, giggling and feeling each other up and sure as shootin' a kid would knock and need something. So then we'd be hustling to get some clothes on and stick our head out the door to see if we could resolve it without actually leaving the bathroom. Then the bathrobe tie would get caught on the container of penis mold goo and dump it on the floor.

Mike would cuss. I would die of embarrassment and think of some way to shoo the half-asleep child away and we'd be trying to scrape all this crap off the floor and by the time we got it all cleaned up the mood would be shot, we'd be tired, pissed off, and grumpy. And we'd fall asleep.

So then I was thinking, "Who needs birth control? We've got kids!"

That should be a freakin' bumper sticker.