I only have 15 minutes to blog today as I have to get dinner started for sugar-mama. She wanted Jambalaya again, and I spent too much time “working” in the “home office” and now have to get cooking. Literally.

But I wanted to take a minute and admit a problem I have and just get it out in the open:

I’m a whore.

I would like to let that sink in for a bit, but I guess I’ll just go ahead and clarify right now. No, I’m not someone who takes money for sex, although I will do a lot for money. And it seems even more now that I’m “freelancing”.

(SIDENOTE: remind me later to tell you about the time, as a sophomore in college, when I was involved in a bet for $10 that I needed to get for gas money, where I was to drink, in continuous arm motion toward the mouth all in one gulp, a large cafeteria coffee cup full of 1/4 hot sauce, 1/4 ketchup, 1/4 mayonnaise, 1/4 mustard with six tablespoons of salt added in and a lemon slice)

No, my whorish-ness comes from my need for t-shirts. I have to get a fix every now and then by purchasing some random t-shirt that has no reference to anything associated with me or my life. I can’t stop myself and I’m pretty sure that if I needed to sell my body to get a t-shirt and if there was one last person left on Earth, I would do it.

And last week was pretty much one of those times.

I had to go to the store to pick up a phone. Sugar-mama decided we needed a home phone for the first time in like six or seven years, and the bundle was cheaper than what we were paying without the phone,  so she added the service.

One problem. We no longer own a phone.

We have our cell phones, and the mogul that sugar-mama has become, she even has two cell phones. One personal and one for work. Or at least I hope it’s work because otherwise her boyfriend is calling a lot during the day.

But we don’t have a house phone. So, I went to Target and while it was tempting to just go ahead and pick up the job application now, I held off. Instead, I just went and looked for the phone and some other things we needed. Along the way, I was in the men’s section and came across the t-shirt area.

Anyone who has ever worked with me or who knows me really well knows what I’m like around cookies. When we went on The Diet a few years back and I lost 64.3 pounds (but who’s counting?), there were two things that I did not and would not EVER give up. One was Budweiser. Obviously. And the other was cookies.

Now I wouldn’t go out of my way to eat cookies then, and I do my best to not get them often now. But if they’re around, and I’m around, there’s not a doubt in my pea-sized mind that those suckers are ending up in my mouth, or milk, or both.

That’s kind of how I am about t-shirts too. I just have to have them and I’ll do about anything to get them, even though I know I can’t do it too often. I slipped last week and now I own a green shirt that says “Slacker” on the front underneath a caricature of Wimpy from the Popeye cartoon, and then another t-shirt that has drawings of the whole cast of Sesame Street with the tag line “All my homies are from the street” underneath it.

This it, and while I have lost a couple of the 15 pounds I put on when sugar-mama left me to come down here to Atlanta, this is actually not me modeling the shirt. Unbelievable, I know.

These are not necessary, and I know it. When we moved, I didn’t bother counting, but I had a minimum of three large U-Haul storage boxes full of t-shirts and jeans. As a reference to this, I only own five pairs of jeans. You do the math.

But for some reason I just can’t help myself. I don’t know why and honestly I’m not too worried about stopping it. But I thought I should put it out there now in case it turns into something worse and I need your help. Consider yourself warned.

Oh, and if I ever need gas money, don’t bet against me. That $10 got me from Rock Island to Rockford and back, AND I had enough change in my car for the $3 cover at the keg party I was going to.