If you ever been in a state of such utter manic boredom that you were curious about what it might be like to spend time with my wife and me, all you have to do is run right out and rent "The Birdcage". The movie with Robin Williams and Nathan Lane as a homosexual nightclub owner and his lover and star attraction. We're identical.

Not exactly, of course. Robin Williams' character (Armand Goldman) was a much better dresser than I am, and he was in better shape. But aside from a minor difference in sexual preference, watching his basic style and his deadpan, sarcastic delivery is very much like spending an evening with me. Sad, isn't it? Their home decor is even close to ours, although we have more nekkid lady artwork and way more laundry laying around. And every time Albert (played by Lane) yelps, I look at Teres. She just smiles and looks puzzled. Who, me?

It's true. She shrieks, at every caprice of fate, real and imagined. Spilled soup. Yellow traffic lights. A ringing phone. Abrupt oral sex. Flash bulbs. Getting a question right while watching "Win Ben Stein's Money". And if you combine all these, it gets worse.

Just judging by her fashion sense alone, she belongs up on the strip. 4'11" and a 41 DD, she's already realized that dressing sedately ain't agonna make a bit of difference, so why not be wild? Purples and pinks, scarves and leopard-print tights, low-cut tops and strange hats. Nothing trashy, more like a short, buxom Stevie Nicks. Or maybe a gypsy fortune-teller in 1/4 scale (although she refuses to admit that she might be short — instead, she feels sympathy for those of us she considers "freakishly tall").

"…and when a gay man has way too much fashion sense for one gender, he is a drag queen."
– Wesley Snipes, "To Wong Fu, Thanks For Everything. Julie Newmar"

But the most telling aspect is the hardest to explain – the attitude. It's hard to pin down exactly what it is, exactly. It could be the way she can wear 5 articles of clothing that were never intended by God to go together, and make it work. It could be the way her mind works, such as when our friend mentions wanting to get her car painted and Teres immediately ran out, bought a case of spray paint and organized an impromptu open-air painting party. I think the phrase is "over the top", and that's the way to live. One of the presents she got for me last Christmas was a mannequin torso she had bought from a store that was going out of business. She painted nipples and tanlines on it (I like tanlines) and added just a few soft brunette curls in the appropriate inappropriate place, then dressed it in the incredibly tacky orange nightie I gave her the year before (I'm assuming that was a coincidence). The mannequin sits atop my filing cabinet and makes a nice little conversation piece, especially after we added the stuffed woman's leg (with bright red stuffed high-heeled pump attached) she found for me in a thrift store a year ago. Bit by bit, she's buildng me a woman.

Our bedroom is the lair of a drag queen. Since I had no preference, the walls were painted purple at her request. Then sponged pink. Then sponged a different purple. Oddly enough, it works, giving the room an old Victorian feel. Scarves cover every flat surface, a dresser she didn't like got painted hot pink, my bookshelves became a dark wine, and the waterbed is a huge soft heap of cloth — we never throw out blankets or comforters, we just pile more on. Doesn't bother me, it's extremely comfortable and there's always scarves handy when you need to tie something down…

Flamboyant. Excitable. Outrageous. And possessing that feminine quality that seems to come easier to drag queens than to actual women, the style that separates drag queens from transsexuals. Poise. Dignity. Playfulness. Constant hand gestures. The eternal state of Grace Kelly and general Rita Hayworthiness. Life is rarely boring.

If you have never attended a drag show, go. Seriously. Check around and find a good one, one where the ladies involved spend time and attention on their acts, their looks and their styles. You'll have a ball, no matter what gender you prefer to take home. Signs of a good drag show:

The place is clean, and there are very few undecorated bits. If it looks like a regular bar with some tinsel tossed over the moulding, skip it. You want a dedicated place.

Look for clubs with regular performers. All great drag shows have at least one diva, the star that repeat customers keep coming to see. She probably won't be the prettiest one there, and almost certainly won't be the youngest, but she'll be the funniest and most personable performer you'll ever see.

Make sure they've got a good stage and a great sound system.

Look for professional shows. Amateur nights can be a hoot, but it can also be the scariest thing you've ever seen. Go with the pros.

Find a club that doesn't discourage straight patrons. You can only find this by experimentation, but you'll know right away. Even if you are gay, you want a club that's primarily there for the party, not for the pick-up. You don't want to be afraid to go to the bathrooms. Note – you know, this also applies to straight clubs.
And as this is the month of Valentine's Day, now is the time to celebrate this attitude and encourage it. Take her to a show. Buy her an outrageous outfit that would only go unnoticed in a disco prom, then take her to dinner. Dress a little outré yourself, why not? "Over the top" is a necessary component of Valentine's Day, and we'll offer you some specifics next week. But for now, I honor my wife the luscious Teresa, draq queen extraordinaire.

I favor comprehensive sex education – although I’m not sure how “comprehensive” it could be when there’s no lab work or humorous skits involved – but I could reluctantly accept abstinence-only teaching as being better than nothing. I can even see an upside to it since my children, being better-informed, will have clear advantages over lesser-trained teens when it comes to putting the moves and layin’ down the velvet hammer.

But teaching our kids inaccurate information driven by agenda rather than science is reprehensible and dangerous. Out of 13 curriculums studied, 11 of them had factual errors and suspicious wording. Some examples:

Despite the claims of such crackpots as the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and the Department of Health and Human Services, it turns out that contraceptives are remarkably useless in preventing sexually transmitted diseases and pregnancy. One curriculum says that “the popular claim that “condoms help prevent the spread of STDs,’ is not supported by the data”; another states that “in heterosexual sex, condoms fail to prevent HIV approximately 31% of the time”; and another teaches that a pregnancy occurs one out of every seven times that couples use condoms. Also, condoms are less effective as water balloons or bachelor party decorations as previously believed, and the ribbed ones actually provide no pleasure for her whatsoever no matter what the package says.

This is even more terrifying when you read further and find that HIV can be spread by tears, sweat, buying someone a drink, or blowing someone a kiss from less than 25 feet away, even if you pull a condom over your face first.

The only sure way to prevent sexually transmitted disease or pregnancy is to avoid any and all sexual relations forever, ideally by moving to another city, changing your name, and wearing loose, non-trendy clothing.

As everyone knows, 5% to 10% of women who have legal abortions will become sterile; that “premature birth, a major cause of mental retardation, is increased following the abortion of a first pregnancy”; and that most women who have had abortions go on, tragically, to vote Democrat.

Some of the curricula also present as scientific fact the religious view that life begins at conception, when scientists know that life really begins at 30. For example, one lesson states: “Conception, also known as fertilization, occurs when one sperm unites with one egg in the upper third of the fallopian tube. This is when life begins.” Yeah, baby, unite that egg!

Did you know that women need “financial support,” while men need “admiration?” Scientific fact, apparently! Forget all that feminist crap, and remember that “women gauge their happiness and judge their success on their relationships. Men’s happiness and success hinge on their accomplishments.”

Some other teachings in the abstinence-only curricula:

Over 45% of teenage girls who have sex before marriage, despite their family’s financial status, ended up living in a trailer. And not one of those nice double-wides, either.

When you have premarital sex, your forehead breaks out in a reddened “A” shape that is plainly and permanently visible to your friends, teachers, and parents. You don’t want to know what happens if you have oral sex, trust me.

Sex really isn’t that interesting. Just ask your parents.

Engaging in unhealthy sexual relations before marriage can cause irreparable psychological damage that could haunt you for the rest of your days. Far, far better to wait until you can have unhealthy sexual relations after you’re married so you can pass your twisted neuroses on to your children.

You can get AIDS from toilet seats, sparkly lipstick, and Playboy.

Condoms make your dick look smaller. Honest. And then it drops off.

Birth control pills are Satan’s candy, according to a four-year study by the American Family Association.

Touching another person’s genitals can give you warts.

Merely flashing your firm young breasts at a teenage male can cause permanent damage to his retinas. Watch where you point those things, ladies!

Passing out eggs for assigned couples to “parent” in Health Class is no longer allowed unless the students are legally married first. What kind of future do you expect to give that egg if you’re riddled with disease, huh? Huh?

Masturbating makes Jesus cry. Teabagging just pisses him off.

Penises have minds of their own and can encourage their owners to make grave errors in judgment. In fact, penises actually possess tiny brains of their own, the same way dinosaurs had extra brains in their tails. Except of course that dinosaurs are part of that “evolution” crap, so forgot I said anything.

You really don’t want to have sex at all. You just think you do because of the constant emphasis on sexuality present in all forms of media. All those near-naked bodies in commercials, in TV shows, in movies, just wiggling around and jiggling right in your face, bouncing and swaying and bobbing and… class dismissed.

If your child is receiving abstinence-only sex ed, I suggest you augment this at home with additional information about healthy sexual relations. You don’t have to go too crazy, simply slipping your youth a copy of “Hustler’s Barely Legal” or letting him or her read through a few days worth of your e-mail ought to do the trick.

Or you could be responsible, I guess, and send them to worthwhile sources of accurate information such as scarleteen.com. They’ll get all the facts, learn a lot more about themselves and how to have a safe and responsible sex life (married or not), and they’ll be able to talk to other kids to find that they’re not alone in their feelings or problems.

In fact, you might want to hurry.

Or you've seen dice that always seem to be bright pink, with words on them instead of numbers (one die has verbs, the other invariably lists body parts). And you've thought to yourself, "Wow, you can really have a lot of sexy fun when you have a playful lover. Now, if only I had a goddamn lover!"

Hey, hey, imaginary person! You don't need anyone else to have fun, unless you're trying to seesaw. Any game ever designed or twisted for adult purposes can also be used for some solitary pleasure. And why not? Why should you limit yourself to quick, furtive wanking when you can enjoy the same sorts of playful, competitive, gonna-end-in-sex fun as anybody else?

I don't mean just playing naked Solitaire. That's pathetic and boring, especially after the first twenty-five times. No, you want something lively and sensual, something designed to tantalize and arouse so as to bring about greater and more powerful sexual satisfaction. Sex games are also a good way to ease yourself past your own shyness. Maybe you're not sure if you want to take the relationship you have with yourself to the next level. Maybe you're uncomfortable with your body, and you're not sure if you're ready to let yourself see it. Sex games are a great way to break the ice and get yourself into a relaxed, excited mood, especially when used in conjunction with vodka. So give it a try! Here's some examples.

Jack Poker – Like the strip variant, only with a few less people. You can play it the old fashioned way, by dealing out two or more hands and playing them all in turn, losing bits of clothing as each hand loses, but it gets complicated trying to hurriedly dress and strip again as you change hands. Positions. You know what I mean. Much easier to go online and find a virtual poker game to play against (Yahoo has one). Play against the computer and bid as directed, but lose articles of clothing every time you lose a hand. Naughty, isn't it? Can you feel the excitement building as you unbutton your shirt? Do you find yourself hunching to conceal a raging erection from yourself? Damn, this is hot!

Twisted – Naked Wesson Oil Twister is tricky to play by yourself, but don't give up. Keep the spinner near whichever hand isn't currently load-bearing. Then just spin the spinner and call the shots! The oil gives your body a slick and sexy feel, and playing in front of a mirror allows you to catch surreptitious glances of parts of your anatomy you don't ordinarily get to see, such as your own perineum. But the real fun of playing Twister is the close contact. You’ll never know if you're going to direct yourself to move your hand or your leg in such a way as to come into contact with yourself. Will you get offended? Will you get aroused? Will you get lucky? Get Twister!

Truth or Dare - Now we're talking! Get in your pajamas, make some s'mores, huddle up on the bed and play. Each turn you have to either answer your own question, no matter how personal or embarrassing, or you can choose an intimate task for yourself to perform. Hours of fun, and you'll be much closer to yourself afterwards. Feel the heat rise as you wait breathlessly to hear what erotic task awaits!

Role-playing - It can get boring doing it the same way, time after time. Hop into bed or slink into the bathroom and do what needs doing. Where's the excitement in that? Liven it up by trying different costumes, be different people. Every sex guide, even the respectable ones, suggests role-playing as a way to spice up your sex life, so give it a try! You can dress up and be a masturbating priest, a pirate, a president! Whack off the way Humphrey Bogart would, or Madonna, or the Secretary General of the United Nations. Pretend you're a babysitter pleasuring herself, or Cleopatra after an unsatisfying date with Marc Antony.

Please note I am not referring to the Dungeons & Dragons type of role-playing. I'm sorry, but figuring out your masturbating experience on graph paper and rolling for encumbrance would just be pathetic.

Sensations - Masturbation is a powerful erotic experience, but it tends to lack surprise and spontaneity. You can bring the sparks back into your love life by bringing back the element of uncertainty. Next time you're sitting there watching the game, sneak up and grab yourself without warning. Surprise yourself in the bath, or pounce on your unsuspecting body in the car wash. Blindfold yourself and feed yourself different types of food – you'll get lost in the rapturous sensation of helplessness and trust, and the delighted surprise and sensuality of never knowing what you'll tantalize yourself with next. Avoid hot soup.

There's lots of others, just take any game you enjoy and assign smutty penalties, rewards and prizes. Monopoly (long, but worthwhile), Hide and Seek (thrilling and adventurous), even Checkers can be a wildly arousing activity when you know you'll have yourself naked and wet at the end of it. Try it! Liven up your sex life with a little playfulness, and I promise you'll be amazed at the reaction you get. Especially if your roommate walks in to find you playing naked Wesson Oil Twister by yourself.

It's all the rage these days. Celebrities like Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton, and Vince Neil have all seen their careers skyrocket after the public got a gander of their sexy shenanigans. Well, maybe not Vince Neil.

Within minutes of the word getting out people all over the world, even people who don't like these celebrities, were beating their computers with sticks to make them download faster. And this frenzied attention translated to increased public awareness, more job offers (some of them even legitimate) and good times for celebrity stalkers who no longer had to fantasize quite as hard.

But it's not as easy as just throwing a tape in the camera and greasing up. For the maximum media penetration your porn debut must be carefully orchestrated so that a) you can get the publicity while still keeping your reputation safe, and b) everyone in the world gets to see your wobbly bits at least twice. You can only do this kind of thing once before it becomes your career, so do it carefully. Here's some tips.

Wait until your career is on the skids.

This is vitally important since a badly-timed "stolen" video can ruin your life if you're riding high. Not only because of the scandal, but because celebrities with successful careers don't have time to have sex and any evidence to the contrary might suggest that you're no longer A-list material. Seen any Tom Hanks porn around? See?

But when you've got nothing to lose a good sex tape can get you your own show, a movie deal, even a Grammy!

Pick an attractive partner.

Not too attractive (you don't want to get upstaged) but someone that's decent enough to look at. It's the kiss of death to be seen sleeping with losers, it's like getting caught showing up at the Oscars in a Chevette. Vince Neil filmed himself with porn stars, Pam had Tommy's massive joint, and Paris was smart enough to keep the camera focused below Rick Solomon's waist.

Use bad lighting.

Just in case the publicity turns ugly you should take care to leave a smidgeon of doubt that the naked person dripping with apple butter and strapped to the taffy puller is actually you, especially if your partner is underage, visibly using drugs, or a member of Congress. That kind of publicity you don't need. The first night-vision release of Paris Hilton's tape was perfect, she looked like a raccoon doing a Courtney Love impersonation.

Check out Rob Lowe's tape for examples. You can barely tell there are humans involved, much less make out features. It could have been a Loch Ness sighting for all I could tell. And lawyers are going to have their work cut out for them trying to prove that R. Kelly's ass is unique in all the world, like a fuzzy snowflake.

Choose awkward positions.

One of the best things about celebrity sex tapes is that they let people see that their sex symbols are human, too. Better looking humans, but still human. When we see celebrities in movies, on TV and on magazine covers they look larger, better, brighter than life, but in your tapes we can see you as just as human as the rest of us. Make this even more obvious by squatting, scooting around awkwardly, fumbling a lot, or falling off the bed halfway through. Not only will this endear you to your fans, it'll make your later denial more believable. Like you'd let any director get your bad side like that? Please!

Be enthusiastic.

You might look human, but you don't want to lose your sex symbol status, either. Hump like you're trying to move the bed outside with your hips alone, and suck like you lost your car keys in there.

Dump your partner afterwards.

Bad enough that everyone will know just what you did with this person, but from that point on every time you bump uglies with that person you'll wonder if it's just a sequel and the first one was better. Also, you may not want your partner around where they can be subpoenaed, at least not until they're old enough to drive to court themselves.

Show it to friends.

How's it going to get stolen if no one knows you have it? It also helps to leave it out for the movers marked "Sex Tape, Do Not Steal." If you get desperate enough or if there's an opening on "Ellen" coming up, just stick it in a video rental box and cram it into the overnight slot at the local Blockbusters. Self-promotion was never so easy!

Time the release to break before your new project, whatever it is.

Paris' tape came out just when her new show "A Simple Life" was starting to advertise, and it went through the roof. Pamela Anderson's new exposure helped her launch "V.I.P." And would Rob Lowe have made it to "The West Wing" if the producers hadn't seen him picking up cans on Ventura Blvd. for his community service hours?

Where Tonya Harding made her mistake was letting her honeymoon tape get out after her knee-whacking scandal. If she had released it beforehand, America might have let her slide and she would have been the one in the Disney parade while Nancy Kerrigan was banished to Celebrity Boxing.

Deny it outright.

At least initially. So what if everyone can tell it's you? So what if, during the video, you faced the camera and said clearly, "This is me!" and displayed on-screen DNA testing? You still have to deny it or you'll be labeled a slut. You need to build up the pity opinions and get people thinking "It's a damn shame that poor little girl got her personal, private orgy tape exposed like that. What's this world coming to?" instead of, say, "What a whore."

Fire lawsuits left and right and accuse everyone of libel, even if you were the one that mailed the tape out. Especially if you were the one that mailed the tape out. Then after the news dies down you can tearfully admit it, just in time to hit the next news cycle.

Give six hundred exclusive interviews explaining why you just want to put it behind you.

After refusing to talk to anyone, have your publicist approach a few respected news outlets like Barbara Walters or Jon Stewart and say you're ready to talk about it, just this once. Cry and be brave and admit that it was you, you were deeply in love, but now you're stronger and more confident than ever before! Also you're single now.

After you cry at Barbara it's time to do the stolen movie promotion junket where you appear on every TV show with more than seven viewers, host "Saturday Night Live" to make fun of yourself, and do a layout in Maxim mimicking your video poses. Strike the right combination of pride and self-deprecation and you'll be starring on FOX inside of two months.

Sell it to Russian websites

Hey, might as well make some money off this thing.

Handled carefully, a stolen sex tape can make your career. And you'll have the satisfaction of knowing that a movie starring you is being watched every minute of every day, somewhere in the world, often in continuous loops.

Not while she's eating hot soup, though.

You can never go wrong by helping her with chores, unless you screw it up, in which case you might as well just stay on the couch and supervise.

Breasts are like rabbits. They're soft and love to be touched, but they'll run away if you just grab at them. Also, they spread disease.

Nothing impresses your lady more than when you brag about her to your friends. It's probably not a good idea to call them and brag while you're actually having sex, though.

Never masturbate over anything that isn't machine washable.

Chicks dig gifts. Check around and see if your previous dates left any jewelry or underwear you can wrap.

The first date is when she finds out all about you. This should happen slowly, over the course of a dinner or an evening of dancing, so you should plan on wearing pants, at least initially.

Bedtime nicknames should be playful and sexy. Avoid nicknames like "Whore," "Sergeant, yes Sergeant," "Deathhole," and "Slant-eyed bitch."

Stroke her like you're trying to rub a smudge off of a mint copy of "The Incredible Hulk" #181 (1st appearance of Wolverine) with your finger without damaging its CGC rating and resale value.

Avoid praising the bodies of your lover's friends, especially if you're boning her at the time.

Don't be afraid to show her how much she means to you. When you get up to leave, drop a $20 on the pillow so she can buy herself something nice.

Don't worry if you can't get it up. It happens to every guy eventually, and it's natural. Fag.

If you place your ear right up against her vulva, you can hear the ocean.

If you place her ear right against her vulva, you can hear a cracking noise.

Many women have uncomfortable relationships with their sisters. These can be due to jealousy, or distance, or traumatic events that are still painful to consider. Take the first step in helping her mend her familial bonds by opening your bed to her sister.

This works with estranged mothers, too, if they're hot.

If you break up with her and she takes it hard, date only men for a few months so she won't think less of herself as a woman.

Nipples can be very sensitive. Never do anything to them that you couldn't do to a cellphone.

Women hate it when you stop lovemaking to watch a passing play, no matter how beautifully the quarterback threw the ball, so it's perfectly all right and even considerate to use family funds to buy TiVo.

Never get "playful" with anything that you don't know for a fact you can safely retrieve, especially if it's your car keys and you don't have copies.

If porn has taught us anything it's that all women love giving head for hours. Tell her if she doesn't it's because she's a lez.

Thanks to the constant stream of beauty-conscious attitude that bathes our media, most women, no matter how beautiful, are insecure and self-conscious about their looks. Respect her self-esteem by hiding the video camera where she won't notice it.

Going down on a woman is fun, but it can take days to finish and puts a major crick in your neck. But if you sneak an electric toothbrush down there with you, you can be out of there in five minutes.

Pubic hair can be a sore spot with some women, and you may not be able to find the right way to bring up the subject of thickets and the benefits of landscaping. Just wait until she's asleep and trim her up any way you want.

When going at it doggie-style, never face towards the TV. It's rude, disrespectful, and insulting. Instead, just point her towards a mirror that's facing the TV.

Originally published in "The Unspeakable Oath," April 1993, Pagan Publishing. It started popping up online after that, with occasional changes or additions and often without my name on it, but the original is mine.

Q: How old is masturbation?

A: Anthropologists have kept it under wraps, but the fossilized remains of the 3.5 million year old young girl found in Hadar, Ethiopia and nicknamed "Lucy" clearly show that she died because she was too distracted by an amazingly shaped 12" gourd to notice the falling tree. Masturbation actually predates the opposable thumb, and may in fact have inspired it so as to better grasp the situation.

Q: Is it harmful to masturbate?

A: Despite the warnings given by religious leaders, worried parents and the guy who invented graham crackers, masturbation is only harmful in the following situations:
1. If you begin to blister.
2. If you put someone's eye out.
3. If you are standing on the edge of a precipice.
4. If it blocks you from reaching the autopilot.
5. If you use harmful accessories, such as cacti, explosives, Ben Gay, or live bees.

Q: Isn't it condemned in the Bible?

A: A common misconception. The sin of onanism, which is usually what's being discussed, occurred when Onan was expected to impregnate his brother's wife, his brother having been struck dead by God that morning. Onan, a trifled freaked out, didn't want to impregnate his dead brother's wife (she was a woofer) and so he pulled out, whereupon God struck him dead, too. Most religious leaders since then have thus condemned the spilling of seed as being a sin, but to me it spells a very different and very clear moral lesson: don't piss off God.

It's worth noting that, at least according to the Bible, women can rub themselves silly without a qualm. And while there's anti-gay prohibitions aplenty in Scripture, there's also no injunction against lesbians at all, which suggests that, like many homophobes, God is a-okay with girl-on-girl action.

Q: But hasn't the pope spoken out against it?

A: Yes. And look at him.

Q: Does constant masturbation weaken you?

A: Would constant sit-ups give you a flabby stomach? I rest my case.

Q: How much is too much?

A: Excuse me? I was distracted… Ha! Just my little joke, I did that before we started. Like any other obsessive and maddeningly pleasant activity, masturbation can only be considered excessive if it keeps you from leading a normal life, working a normal job, and driving the legal speed limit. Otherwise, feel free to fill your days and nights with all the physical self-love you can bear, taking time out for meals and the reapplication of industrial bearing grease.

Q: How many people masturbate?

A: Good question. I haven't the faintest idea.

Q: Haven't there been studies?

A: Sure. And it's certainly possible that every single person who was approached and asked "Do you masturbate? Really? How often?" actually answered with complete candor and honesty. It's also possible you could bite the back of your own neck, but I'm not holding my breath.

It's a certainty that not everyone masturbates. There will always be those with the iron will, rock-solid conviction, and/or total lack of interest that can resist going for their own groceries, and I admire them. Usually through their windows. But that's neither here nor there.

If I took a shot at it, based on what I know of human nature and desire, I would guess that there's a small percentage that doesn't, a small percentage that can't stop, and a whopping big load of people in the middle who do it in varying amounts, often on Friday nights.

Q: Is masturbation good for you?

A: It's certainly been good for me, but I don’t think that's what you're asking.

Masturbation provides many helpful benefits (as opposed to harmful benefits). It relaxes you. It helps you learn what pleasures you, so that you can guide others. It serves as a low-impact aerobic workout, unless both feet leave the ground. It helps you get in touch with your own body and with your kitchen utensils. It allows you to tap off excess fluid to keep your body running at optimal efficiency. It keeps you from hitting all the people who really need hitting. And it provides you with something to do to while away boring hours that might otherwise have been used to do something harmful and detrimental to society, such as running for Congress.

Q: If your lover or spouse masturbates, does it mean they're not satisfied with you?

A: Yes.

Wait, wait, I was kidding. No, it doesn't. Probably.

People masturbate for many reasons. It might mean that your lover has an urge for quick release but doesn't want to bother you, or that they're not in the mood to consider your needs just then, or that they lost a bar bet, or it might mean that they just watched The Real Cancun and they need to do it right now, dammit. If you try to have sex with them, and they tell you nah, they'd rather go masturbate, then you might have a problem.

Q: You've convinced me. How do I get started?

A: Go to a quiet secluded place where you won't be interrupted, unless you like that sort of thing. Run your hands all over your body until you find the areas that most like to be touched. You'll find the most sensitive areas (apart from the crotch) are the nipples, the backs of the knees, the thighs, and the surface of the eyeballs. Caress and stimulate these areas until you begin to uncontrollably bark like a Chihuahua. Increase the speed of your caresses until your barking more closely resembles an Alsatian. Now it's time to grab your goodies.

Reach into your pants and scope things out. Chances are you'll find one or more of the basic sets of genitalia: the sticky-outie thing (penis) or the gooey-innie thing (vagina). To stimulate the penis, you can stroke it, rub it, pull on it, slap it lightly, roll it between your hands, trap it between your thighs, stick it inside something warm and soft (such as a dinner roll) and, frankly, just about anything else you can think of. Penises are easy. It's usually a trick to get them not to orgasm, even during inappropriate times such as funerals or long-distance marathons.

Vaginas are tougher, for several reasons. It's not clear where, how fast, or how hard to touch it. What works sometimes doesn't always work every time. Sometimes it just quits on you no matter how excited you thought you were. And sometimes you discover that the vagina is really just the inside part and you've actually been poking around on the vulva instead, and then you just want to give up and collect stamps.

The most sensitive part of the woman's fruit basket is the clitoris, or fun-button. It's right at the top of the vulva, where the lips come together. No, a little higher. Right there. Under that little flap. No, over to the left more. Up… no, you passed it. Rest your finger here and let it slide… that's it… no… you know, stamp collecting is really a very fulfilling hobby.

I suggest getting one of those pillow-style back massagers, or maybe a motorcycle, straddling it, and just vibrating the whole area in the hopes that you nail the little bugger.

I hope this has helped some of you, and I look forward to talking to you again next month, after you shower off.

Well, we've all been there.

Establishing a rhythm during lovemaking can be tricky, especially for those of us who sing only in the shower or more than 300 yards away from other people, by court order. You can try putting really loud clocks in the bedroom, or even a metronome on the headboard as a cool decoration and valuable pace-setting tool (use 100-120 bpm in 2/4 time for a lively evening, only moving up to 160-172 bpm if you have a durable partner and a strong heart). You could even use dance rhythms to keep your focus, although if your partner overhears you muttering "One, two, three, one, two, three," under your breath over and over you soon may be dancing alone. But these methods, while dependable, leave you with a steady, boring beat that will bring your partner to ecstasy only by perseverance and long-lasting batteries. Much better to use music.

Music has long been used to establish a mood for romance, seduction, and laying the pipe down. It may have been why music was invented in the first place, Rohypnol being thousands of years in the future. But here I'm suggesting using the cadence of the tune, not the atmosphere the music creates. Fix a tune in your mind and thrust along with the words. Hump to the beat! Instantly you're a sex god, moving with confidence and driving her wild! There's a reason that rock stars get so much poon, and it can't be their looks. It's that driving, pounding rhythm that gets into the soul and drags you along, forcing your body to pulsate at their frequency and resonate to their every movement. Also the drugs.

Next time you're intimately connected, pump, lick or suck in time with the catchiest song you can think of. Doesn't have to be sexy, or even good, just fun and bouncy. Here's the sex score for the first two lines of You Are My Sunshine:

Unh uh uh UNH UNH, unh uh oh UNH UNH
Unh uh unh UNH UNH, unh uh ah unh…

That'll get her going! Almost any song will work, although you might want to avoid rap and bluegrass banjo until you're more comfortable. Try starting slowly, with some songs that all but tell you when to thrust, such as The Beatles' "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" (Bang! Bang!) or Billy Squire's "The Stroke." Once you get the hang of it, try more complicated melodies for different effects. Queen's "We Will Rock You" is an obvious and insistent choice, Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love" seems to have had this purpose in mind from the start, "Livin' La Vida Loca" can drive you over the edge of the bed, Metallica's "Enter Sandman" is a good, dependable guide when you want to pace yourself, "The Anvil Chorus" is surprisingly effective, the chorus of The Beatles' "Yellow Submarine" can bring anybody off, and "Amazing Grace" can produce a truly astounding orgasm if you can last for all six verses.

No matter what tempo you have in mind for your ugly-bumping, there's a song to help you out. Remember, all you need from it is the rhythm, it doesn't matter what the song is about. Want to go slow and steady? Go with Simon and Garfunkel's "Scarborough Fair," Five for Fighting's "Superman," Whitney Houston's "Exhale (Shoop Shoop)," Arlo Guthrie's "Alice's Restaurant" (why not?) or "Air for a G String" by Bach. Pop music, up-tempo classical and feisty country songs are ideal for playful romping with variable rhythms, such as Madonna's "Open Your Heart," Randy Travis's "Before You Kill Us All," Beethoven's "Ode to Joy," or anything by Belle and Sebastian (even though the sounds of kids playing during "If You're Feeling Sinister" throws me off). And if you're in the mood for jackhammering, you can't go wrong with Queen's "Stone Cold Crazy," or "One Week" by Bare Naked Ladies. Be sure to do some stretches first, and stay hydrated. My wife and I once tried to keep up with Savage Garden's "I Want You" and it took us a week to work out all the leg cramps.

As long as the cadence of the lyrics or the beat of the song matches your sexual needs, there's no reason not to pick songs that match the moment. I think highly of Bloodhound Gang's "Bad Touch" and Tenacious D's immortal "Fuck Her Gently."

And don't neglect television theme music! Theme songs are easy to keep stuck in your head and they can provide fantastic thrashing rhythms as long as you keep repeating them over and over until you're done. Just think about the themes from Mission Impossible, Barney Miller, Sesame Street, Rawhide, Gilligan's Island… I get all shivery just thinking about it. And the commercial jingles! Repetitive, maddening, why not use that to your advantage? Besides, the erotic uses of the Oscar Meyer theme song are so obvious they don't bear repeating.

Schoolhouse Rock songs are unbelievable.

Musical accompaniment works wonderfully for other forms of sex besides just the ol' in-and-out, y'know. Use your hands to Busta Rhymes' "Woo Hah! Got You All in Check" ("Woo Hah," indeed), touch your lover to the beat from Pink's "Don't Let Me Get Me" (RUB rub rub RUB RUB!), and while Ludacris's "What's Your Fantasy" is a strong runnerup, "The Marriage of Figaro" is, quite simply, the single best guide to oral sex ever devised:

Lick lick lick LICK lick
Lick lick lick LICK lick
Lick lick lick LICK lick, lick LICK lick, lick lick lick lick
Lick lick lick LICK lick, lick LICK lick, lick LICK lick lick
LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK LICK, lick
LICK LICK LICK LICK, lick
Lick lick lick
Lick lick lick
Lick lick lick lickalick lick lick lick lick lick slurp!

Don't stop during the instrumental parts or your lover may look at you oddly, wondering why everything shut down, while you're mentally waiting for the next verse. Keep right on going, playing the air guitar with your hips, which is basically what Mick Jagger has been doing for forty years now. If you're the lady on top, twist your hips to the tune from Hotel California by the Eagles, or bounce merrily along to Disney's "It's a Small World," although you might want to hum that last one to yourself.

Instrumental pieces also add an impressive feeling to the encounter, like you have an orchestra backing you up as you prong away. "The Ride of the Valkyries" is majestic and aggressive, "The Flight of the Bumblebee" is ideal for that office quickie, "Mars, The Bringer of War" from Holst's "The Planets Op.32" works well for that l-o-n-g slow grind, and nothing, but nothing beats "The Main Title March" from John Williams' stupendous Superman movie soundtrack. Starts slow, builds up, goes slow, builds up, gets fast, goes slow again, ends triumphantly. Up, up and away!

If you're in the moment and having problems thinking of the perfect melody (don't you hate that?), try turning on the radio and taking pot luck. Pick a station with heavy playlists and few commercials, and try to avoid the afternoon show or you may find yourself trying to screw to a traffic report. If you're really feeling adventurous, set your radio to "scan" and let the rhythm change every five seconds. Can you keep up? Don't use MTV or VH1 for this, since the last thing you'll ever catch a music video channel doing is actually playing a music video. If you get really cocky try a Weird Al Yankovic polka medley.

There's no reason you can't share your new found love in music with your lover. You can spend an exciting time looking through each others' collections and selecting the night's playlist, and you can sing to each other as you happily bang away. The gift of a specially-made best-of CD carries even more meaning if you know it's the menu for the evening. And if you both know what's coming up you can time things better, such as holding back because you know she loves to climax just as "A Day in the Life" builds up to the crashing piano chord.

Once you get good at it, it's time to go for an entire evening of musical sex. Play entire CDs and keep up with the changes. Theme albums work well for this – Pink Floyd's "The Wall" may be too depressing to permit arousal, but Styx's "Kilroy Was Here" is a ball-drainer, and "Downward Spiral" by Nine Inch Nails speaks for itself – and the variety of songs on the average CD makes for a unpredictable romp in the sheets. Try any album by Tangerine Dream, or Dream Theater.

Different things work for different people. For me, it's soundtracks. I've already mentioned Superman, but I call to your attention the outstanding sexual potential of such greats as the Indiana Jones theme, the "Imperial March" from Star Wars, and The Pirates of Penzance (do "Modern Major General," I dare you). I have a personal fondness for The Nightmare Before Christmas, and I cannot recommend highly enough the soundtrack to the movie The Princess Bride, although I usually lose it during the sword fight theme.

After awhile you may find yourself thinking in terms of musical selection when you size up new dates. Would she prefer the gentle lovemaking of Edwin McCain's "I'll Be" or John Mayer's "Your Body Is a Wonderland," or does that hungry look in her eye call for a screaming "Bat Out of Hell" rodgering? Do you feel like doing Bon Jovi's "It's My Life" on that guy at the bar until he can't remember his parent's names? Are you in the mood to Ja Rule somebody tonight? You may even find yourself characterizing people by genres, and choosing your lover based on the Billboard charts. I know I've started judging new music for its lovemaking properties. When I first heard Norah Jones "Don't Know Why" I knew immediately why she couldn't come: her song was too damn slow. Stick in a big drum solo finish and she'd have popped one off, no problem.

Naturally, despite my exhaustive research, I've completely forgotten the ultimate sex song, but I'll bet you'd be only too happy to show me the error of my ways. So tell me? Add your comments below and we'll make a playlist. Remember, we're looking specifically for cadence and rhythm, not emotional meaning or quality. Even if the song sucks and makes the average listener cringe and try to yank their own ears off in frantic self-defense (and here, of course, I'm thinking "Achy Breaky Heart"), as long as it has a catchy beat and you can hump to it, send it on.

I'll just be sitting here with my headphones on, don't mind me.

My thanks to the people who already tossed in ideas to augment my frozen-in-the-mid-80's tastes, especially Rick and Dana.

How to Get Any Woman You Want

It's just so easy! All you have to do is to work out, plan your finances carefully, and take sensitivity courses until you become a nice, hot-looking rich guy. What could be easier? Other suggestions:

- Carry Godiva chocolates with you at all times.
- Pay them.
- Tell them that by dating you they can drive their mother crazy.
- Keep a "lover's kit" in your car: romantic card, sensual (but not tacky) lingerie, silk flowers, burlap sack, ether.
- Get a fatal but non-catching disease, and contact the Make-A-Wish foundation.

You'll be rolling in women in no time!

Add Inches to Your Penis

Bigger is better! Every undersized guy knows, deep in his heart, that it's the size of his prize that makes the difference (as opposed to skill, affection, technique, or anything else that can only be improved through something really desperate, like effort).

But how can you strengthen and lengthen your rod? Do you need costly creams, dangerous mechanical devices, costly and dangerous surgery?

Of course you do! You're trying to change part of your body, you dolt. It's not like you can just eat more. But here's some easy ways anyway.

- Trim back your pubic hair to "add" inches. You can also get tummy tucks and even have your pelvic area surgically removed to aid in the illusion.
- Have shadows and light areas tattooed on it to force perspective.
- Buy specially-made furniture that's ¾ scale.
- Date midgets.
- Hang around a near-sighted girl and constantly emphasize how much more attractive she is without glasses or contact lenses.

You're a stud, baby, you're a monster stud!

Increase Your Breast Size, Naturally

Guys and lesbians love big ones. Everyone does, it's an earth mother thing or something. You need great big round boobies or you're not really a woman. But how can you get fuller, firmer breasticles without risky injections or padded bras that might kill you? We can help!

- Use handfuls of Silly Putty to sculpt new knockers on top of your old ones.
- Buy bras two cup sizes too small. Not only will this make your existing ta-tas look larger, but if you get a really tight bra you can push two small breasts together and make one big one.
- Leave milk out every night for the Breast Fairy.
- Find someone willing to suck on them for at least an hour every night, for conditioning.
- Use extra makeup or a fabric marker to add cleavage.

And if you order our all-natural, herbal breast-enlargement system now, you'll get the second breast half off!

How to Make Love All Night Long

Put the excitement back into your marriage, without any embarrassing life changes or personal reevaluations! Take each other to the heights of ecstasy, again and again, until the rosy hazy of dawn, with these, easy-to-follow tips.

- First things first, move to a northern climate and plan for the summer equinox. No sense making it any tougher than you have to.
- Pick an ugly partner. You can burn away hours just trying to get aroused or erect.
- Viagra, Viagra, Viagra. Use it as a suppository if you have to.
- If you're having problems with premature eruptions, stretch out sexual encounters by constantly getting up to check your e-mail. You can also arrange to have a friend call you at random intervals all night.
- Use a bonding agent in your lubrication to ensure that wild, mind-blowing sex keeps on going, even if you're asleep!

If you can't last all night you're just old, worthless, weak, uncool, and probably impotent or frigid or both. But does that mean you need to use dangerous stimulants and untested aphrodisiacs? Send now for our free catalog!

Your successful sex life is now assured, and it didn't cost you a dime. Congratulations!

Should you feel inclined to share your newfound wealth and confidence with others, I'd appreciate it if you contacted me. I'm an expatriated Nigerian businessman with millions of dollars that I need to get moved into this country, and if you give me your bank account number…

In this busy world of two-income families, 40 hour work weeks, and 12 hour Seinfeld marathons, beginning writers struggle to carve out hallowed and sacred portions of their hectic week to express themselves and inscribe their priceless prose onto paper. They strive to find an hour a day away from family, friends, telemarketers, and Girl Scouts when they can put away the cares of the world, clear their minds, and really focus on their writing.

Idjits.

The first thing to do is dump the idea that your writing can be turned on and off like a faucet. Not only is this a bad idea, it encourages the related and erroneous thought that your writing can occasionally get stopped up (or, conversely, might break and spill creativity all over your carpet and soak your floorboards). Writers write, constantly. They can't help it. They just don't always write things down. And that's the part I'm going to talk about today; how to find time to write it down.

Write stuff down. No matter where you are, or what you're doing, if you get a quirky idea or a tease of a story, write it down. Get into the habit of carrying around notepaper or a small pad or something so you can record ideas as they occur to you. Thoughts, phrases, interesting bits of dialogue heard from strangers, whatever. If you hear something and think, "Ooh, that's good, I'll have to remember that," you won't. Believe me, there are literally thousands of incredible story ideas floating around out there, scattered on the sidewalks and highways of the world, which fell out of my head because I didn't have a pencil to catch them with.

Most often I use my Palm Pilot to scribble down notes, partly because it's easier to transfer onto my computer later on and partly because I'm such a techie geek. A flick of the button, a quick dash with my stylus, and my idea is permanently captured for later retrieval (although it always seems to be some variation of "Whst bheek!yy asw kn,nOkk?"). But I also keep paper in the car, a notepad by my bed, and stashes of pens everywhere. I've been known to write down story ideas on napkins, my arm, tree bark, someone else's arm, those little paper placemats they give you in seafood restaurants, anywhere I can leave a mark and retrieve it later. Once you get into the habit, you might notice that finding story ideas is also no longer a problem. They're freaking everywhere! Here's some examples of where you can find time to jot down Pulitzer Prize-winning crap.

Waiting for a bus

Or cab, or plane, or train, or any form of transportation, especially if there are other people waiting there with you. Look around you! Freaky, aren't they? Why bother coming up with characters out of your head when they're all over the place? Standing at a bus stop, it would be easy to develop a story about lovers who meet and romance each other, never meeting anywhere else. Or a bus driver who, over time, notices changes in the personality of a regular passenger he's slowly falling in love with. Or a maniac who plants a bomb on a bus that'll blow up if it slows below 55 mph (Editor's note: been done).

In your own car

This, frankly, is where I get most of my ideas. I think it's because the universe, in its perverse wisdom, knows I can't write them while I'm driving, so it sees fit to bless me with sparkling dialogue and amazing surprise twist endings. But ha! I've outwitted the universe by keeping a Post-It® pad in my ashtray. Nyah! Take that, universe!

I've got a 45 minute drive to and from work, five days a week. Nothing to do but think, listen to the radio, get pissed off at the radio, turn the radio off, and think. Isn't that what you were looking for? A time to be forced to think? Many, if not most, of my best story ideas came to me while driving. I was listening to an old Andy Griffith comedy tape and started laughing at the idea of that kindly old country gentleman voice narrating an attempt to make amateur porn (it became my long short story "What It Was, Was Porno"). Heard a radio news report on efforts to legalize prostitution, and realized that were it made legal, it would probably get franchised a la McDonald's (my short story, "Jackoff's"). I remembered Mardi Gras was coming up, and I suddenly despaired, thinking of all those poor unfortunate beginning flashers who didn't know the proper way to expose themselves (and that'll become an article or a how-to poster, I haven't decided). And, in front of me now, is a small Post-It® note with the words "finding time to write – everwhere" on it. Hmmm. Could make a good article…

I've also used a tape recorder, when I was in a writing mood and wanted to work out some dialogue, but frankly I feel silly as hell doing it. If they ever work out a decent voice-to-text word processor for a PDA, I should be able to manage a book a month.

In the john

Well, duh. You're there for a certain amount of time, you're already sitting down, and you've got to think about something besides what's going on. Write! Just be sure to keep your papers separated. And don't bring a laptop in with you; sitting there for hours at a time is bound to be unhealthy.

During sex

Where better to get ideas? Great sex gives you great imagery, great characters, great situations. Bad sex gives you even more, and your handwriting will be easier to read later. Practice writing without looking and soon you'll be jotting down notes like a crazed stenographer even as your lover pounds you into the afterlife. Hmmm. "Pounds you into the afterlife," that'd be interesting if it happened. Would you have any special status in the afterlife if you died during sex? Second-class, or cellblock hero? 'Scuse me, gotta write something down.

Look for places in your daily life when you could cut back, just a little, for some writing time. Can you leave for work a few minutes later? Eat your lunch a little faster? Does your family really need all that attention? Do you have to brush every tooth?

Note: do not attempt to write while operating heavy equipment!

Just look at how easy it is to find time to write. Here's my typical day:

7:00 a.m. – wake up to alarm, slap alarm.
7:09 a.m. – wake up to alarm, grab notebook and write down details of really wild dream I just had.
7:15 a.m. – wake up son, throw him in the bathroom to get ready for school while I check mail and sync my Palm Pilot.
7:30 a.m. – drive son to school, drop him off. Think of idea for an article on new kink (golden shower heads, with massage settings), pull over to write it down.
7:40 a.m. – drive off just as crossing guards run over to check out reports of pudgy, bearded man parked next to a schoolyard taking notes of some kind.
7:50 a.m. – get home, write for a half hour before getting ready for work.
8:30 a.m. – leap into shower, running late because I was on a roll. Write 13 lines of a sonnet on the bathroom wall with Dial, run the hot water out trying unsuccessfully to think of a rhyme for "latex bondage."
8:45 a.m. – sit back at computer to sync Palm Pilot with new stuff, and maybe just jot down a few more thoughts…
9:30 a.m. – drive like a maniac for work, already way late. Run two lights trying to steer with my knee while I scribble a note about the opening song in my porn musical, "(I) Hump For a Living!"
9:35 a.m. – Hum the song for the officer, who seems unimpressed and tickets me. Music hater.
9:57 a.m. – Arrive at work, sit in parking lot afraid to leave my car in case a thought strikes me before I get to the building.
10:05 a.m. – Run for the lobby, getting almost halfway there before the perfect title for a work-in-progress occurs to me ("Quim Fandango") and I am compelled to use my keys to write it in the side of the nearest car.
11:00 a.m. – Which turned out to be my boss's new BMW. Had plenty of time during the arrest and sentencing to work out the details of an erotic murder-mystery. The arresting officer seemed interested and was a great source of help with police procedure, but he wouldn't let me take the fingerprint sheet I scribbled on with me. Damn!
11:51 a.m. – Finally got my one phone call. Just in time, too. I called my house and dictated into my answering machine until I had described all three books of a great new erotic trilogy based on the surprisingly sensual life of a septic tank pump crew. Spent a few hours spitballing the character development with my fellow inmates, who seemed happy to act out the sex scenes to a degree of verisimilitude I found a touch disturbing. They're going to want writing credit, I know it.
4:19 p.m. – I think, if it's possible, that from now on I'll always try to write in a courtroom. Peaceful, long stretches of uninterrupted time, and there are so many interesting people here I'll never need to come up with my own characters again! Whoops, the judge is saying something. He looks a bit upset. I wonder if he finds wearing a dress to work everyday is more comfortable than he's comfortable with. I might could do something with that…
8:35 p.m. – I manage to collect my scraps of toilet paper, t-shirt cloth, and cornbread on which I've written notes for this article. Now all I need is some uninterrupted time to write it all down, and the guard assures me that as soon as we arrive, spare time will not be a problem. Hurray!

See? Finding time to write isn't hard at all, not if you know where your priorities are.

Now, finding time to edit, that's a bitch.