Marital Sex Blog: 29 day Challenge?

Marital Sex Blog: 29 day Challenge?

Through the ten day challenge, I’ve been doing some research and found this blog: To Love, Honor and Vacuum

True to form I skipped through most of the psycho analytic babble and jumped to the good stuff, but it’s already prompted an afternoon rendezvous! 


Day 2

Queue the Law & Order transition music.

Today started off similar to yesterday however, my commitment to waking up early was even more deflated than yesterday, in large part due to my triumphant day one. As my bear-like husband awoke me this morning, I thought to myself do it – just do it, now’s the time! It was almost as if I was trying to convince myself that there was a chance I would be able to gather my wits and climb aboard, but all the while knowing that I didn’t have it in me to put him in me. It’s Friday though, and you all know what that means….. cockers, lots and lots of cockers. Lucky for me, we received a nice plump package of fresh Omaho Steaks yesterday that will come in handy tonight, there’s nothing like a medium rare piece of red meat to get my clam chowdering.

Will day two blow my cover? I have this fear of him turning me down or worse, finding out about the challenge…

Mission Status: Pending
Anticipated scene in my living room tonight (I’m playing the part of the reindeer): 


Day 2 Continued:
Status: Incomplete
Reason: Rejection
Feeling: Defeated
Vodka Count: 6
Level of disappointment:

Day 1

It’s day one of the 10 day challenge and I’m behind schedule as usual. I went to bed anxious last night, I set my alarm for earlier than normal – not by too much, I figured we’d only need about 5 minutes. I laid my cell directly next to me on the night stand so that I would hear the sound of “thrift shop” awake me so that I could get a kick start to my 10 day sex bender. Unfortunately, my body has the same reaction to waking up to work out as it does to waking up to have sex. I pressed snooze about 8 times until my husband did his normal departure wave out the bedroom door.

I am not deterred yet though. Just as I do with my not so routine running schedule, I will just have to take care of business after work. I mean sex on the weekdays can’t be that difficult, right?


Day 1 Continued:
Mission status: complete
Time of day: approx 5:30 pm
Level of enthusiasm:



The 10 Day Challenge

It’s the first day of spring, I’m rounding my second year of marriage, things are on the up and up, yet my libido seems to be dying a rather quick death – like one of those deaths where it found out that it had six months to live and instead of reaching out to its loved ones and making up for lost time, its decided to just lay down and take a nap until its fight for life has come to a close.

My efforts to take my personal sex drive to the limits through self stimulated masturbation is not going as planned and it’s clear to me that it will not be my new schtick. While my intentions were set to become a crusader for independent stimulation, I’ve come to the conclusion that I cannot come to terms with private time, I’m clearly too insecure or my vagina is truly sexist.
THEREFORE, I have decided to take a 10 day challenge laid out here through the scientific method. Will you take the challenge? 
Formulation of a question:
How can I regain my inner slut? 
Frequent sex may improve my skin, immunity, energy levels and take me from my go-to missionary and back to backwards cowgirl making for a happier and more communicative marriage.
I predict that I will have obstacles throughout my journey. I predict that by willingly having sex with my husband for 10 days, I will form a habitual desire to engage in sexual behavioral activities routinely and will re-discover my desire to drop it like its hot. 
To begin on Thursday, March 21
I must be actively engage and proposition sex on a daily basis for ten days.
My husband is not to know of the challenge until the challenge is completed.

Hi, my name is Vagina

It recently came to my attention that there is an epidemic taking place among the majority of my female friends. No, I’m not referring to highlights, Spanx or adultery. I’m referring to Masturbating.

Yes, hold onto your cocktails but at this very moment someone next door to your office, your home or the bath room stall could possibly be using the iPhone vibrate setting as their new douche device.

About six months ago I was out to dinner with friends; let’s refer to them as “Zack” & “Mia”…. Now a little back story about this dynamic duo is they have been together for like three decades, they live inside of Restoration Hardware and on the cool scale they rank about like Zack & Kelly at Bayside High, and I mean the Zack and Kelly before they went off to college and the color resolution improved. What is with classic shows improving their picture quality? Like when Roseanne was at the height of her weight gain in the 80s, then she takes a sharp right turn into her third season in 1991, the picture quality improved, her eyes went from being like little 8 year old vagina slits to bright glowing Lane Bryant Model Quality eyes and the show went completely downhill. Can I get a wha wha?

Anywho, back to Zack and Kelly, so we’re at dinner and the topic of (shall we say) “basting” comes up. My first reaction was that this is only something that rich cool Dallas people do which I would’ve taken with a grain of coke rather than continuing on my year long survey. HOWEVER, my go-to life coach was there at dinner as well who convinced me that this was normal activity amongst men, women, and couples. Hearing that my lady mentor was supporting this ridiculous act of vaginal exploitation was alarming.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing……

I was scared, intimidated and curious about this underground world of pleasure seekers. As I’ve gone through the scenario of seducing myself the fear layered below brings me back to freshman year at college.

I went along with some friends to Condom Sense and out of a desperate need to be “one of the girls” I purchased a flesh colored, full (and a half) sized replica of a penis afforded through my weekly allowance of course. The item cost about $80 which left me with about $60 for the rest of the week. I remember thinking that was an unreasonable amount to spend on a statue like penis figure when I could spend about half that and have a really enjoyable night out on the town and find my own real life penis figure to fill up my under aged burrito. The other girls on the shopping spree were acting like it was the new “hot” item for vaginas and persuaded me to believe that it was sure to wind up on Oprah’s favorite things that year, so I convinced myself that the pricing would probably double in December so I was really getting a bargain.

Once I got back to my dormitory I couldn’t wait to try it out. I went pot luck on a roommate and somehow needed up with a non-drinking, seminary dating, A student named Becky. Needless to say, I knew I couldn’t take my new Rabbi for a ride in the room so I figured it was time to grab my toiletries and head to the shower. As I made my way to the communal bathroom I was filled with excitement and anticipation. As a girl of colored hair (I mean that in every way possible – colored and of colored people), I rarely showered daily back in my later teen years for fear that my hair would retaliate against me and create a flakey revolt upon my scalp and shoulders. You should know though that three yeast and two Urinary tract infections later, I am a daily bather.

So after my star gazing trip from my corner room of the dormitory I had finally made it to the showers. Despite the fact that my education cost more annually than I currently make, the bathrooms were less than chic. There were about 5 to 6 showers lined up next to one another and concealed only by a tan vinyl curtain that could easily be whisped away by a passer-byer.  Once I made my way into the shower stall, I neatly hung up my towel and went for my shower carousel that my mother and I had picked out a bed bath and beyond. This is where I stowed away my Shaquille O’Neil sized Rabbi. I was ready to go.

I didn’t exactly know how to start so I decided that a melody may help get me and my vagina in the mood. Jack Johsnon’s first hit CD had just come out and I was digging his mellow creamy like voice so I switched my mind soundtrack over to Jack. Once I set the music mood, I needed something else (like a man), the Rabbi was staring at me in the face and I was scared. I tried to take my mind to an erotic scene, of a world where men walk around in ties and snap on suits. Now was the time, I took my rabbi and entered it into my vaginal crest in a soft but firm like motion, trying to trigger a sexual light switch. The sensation was less than pleasing and I was perplexed, truly. I thought back to the events of the day and all those little Bitches that led me to believe this would provide me with the same satisfaction that my 18 year old male counter parts had led me to experience.  Was I not doing it right? I tried once more to merge the 9 inch replica inside of my body but it was no use. I was defeated. Not the Jack Johnson lullaby in my head nor the lukewarm water of the communal dormitory showers could provide me with the secretion I needed to continue this ridiculous display of Master-Retardation.

I grabbed my towel, placed the Rabbi back inside my shower carousel and headed back to the end of the hall, giving a defeated “what up” to Becky once I got back into the room. We didn’t talk the rest of the day, not that we ever spoke before that, but it felt like there was more tension inside our 10’ x 10’ room than ever before. I felt like my vagina had let me down, like it was saying, “you’re not enough” or “I want a threesome”, like it was sexist or something. Can vaginas be sexist?? I think so.

After this experience, I tucked away the Rabbi in the “you let me down drawer”, along with other items like pictures of my parents and expired fast food coupons.  So you can imagine my dismay ten years later when I realize through a carb saturated meal with friends that not only had I missed the mark by attempting a shove a candle stick down my vaginas throat but I had also missed out on years of silo-ed pleasure.

Throughout the last 12 months, I ‘ve come to learn that not only do Zack and Kelly actively incorporate Buzz light years into their bedroom but dozens of quasi-happily married women just like myself have embraced their independence by putting their vagina where their laundry detergent is.

Obviously mastering my own vagina has never been a priority which leads me to believe that I am literally the laziest former slut that has ever existed. Do I have guilt about it? Yes, am I embarrassed about it? Absolutely, but rather than sulk about all the fun and excitement that my baggage claim has been missing out on, I think I’ll just make this my new schtick. After all, this blog was formed through a personal epiphany that my goals are lacking and my interests are limiting.

I think I’ll take myself out for a cocktail tonight, throw on a little Jason Mraz and reintroduce myself to the matrix that lays below. I hope she remembers me. 



Stupid Midgets or Tiny Assholes?

Are Babies Assholes?

For several years, I’ve formed a rather strong opinion that children and babies are like dumb midgets…. they are small yet stupid and cannot function on their own, complete sentences or be trusted to operate vodka drinks. Well, this theory has come under attack as I may have underestimated the little-tards.

I just came across this article posted online at Jezebel called “Are Babies Assholes”? So are the little raviolis filled with more than just shit, milk and saliva? Are they smarter than I give them credit for? I don’t know….. I may need some commentary on this one.

Are Babies Assholes?
Article by: Erin Gloria Ryan

Babies have long been known to be freeloading, pants-shitting, boob-crazed whiners with an entitlement complex who refuse to get jobs or learn English, even thoughthis is America. But for years, another aspect of their tiny, angry personalities was slightly less obvious: are they also jerks? Five years ago, a group of researchers claimed that a series of tests had concluded that babies do not actively wish fellow human beings harm, that from a very wee age, they’re capable of telling the difference between right and wrong. But now, new evidence has thrown those findings into a playpen of doubt, again putting babies’ morality (or lack thereof) in the hot (booster) seat.

According to the original “Babies Are Not Total Dicks After All” research, babies as young as 6 months old prefer interacting with prosocial individuals. Researchers determined this by showing the babies puppet shows involving a wooden doll that was trying to climb a hill and either helped up or pushed down the hill by another wooden doll. Following the show, the tiny, gurgling study subjects were offered a choice to play with either the helper puppet or the hinderer puppet. In almost all cases, the babies selected the helper puppet, which, to researchers, demonstrated that they recognized that the helper puppet was good, and that they preferred to hang around good people (the wanting to hang around bad people phase doesn’t start until the babies are teenagers and angry at their fathers). Case closed. Babies are good.

Not so fast.

Researchers who tried to stage the experiment again found that babies would react differently to the puppets depending on how the puppet attempting to climb the hill acted. One skeptical researcher explained to CBS News,

“For example, when we had the climber bounce at the bottom of the hill, but not at the top of the hill, infants preferred the hinderer, that is, the one that pushed the climber down the hill,” Scarf explained. “If the social evaluation hypothesis was correct, we should have seen a clear preference for the helper, irrespective of the location of the bounce, because the helper always helped the climber achieve its goal of reaching the top of the hill.”

The researchers on the original experiment countered that if the puppet bounced happily at the bottom of the hill, the babies might be confused into believing that the puppet was trying to fall all along, and the “hinderer” was actually a helper. The direction the ascending puppet was looking also influenced the babies’ picks — if the puppet was looking down as it climbed, the babies would often choose the hinderer under the mistaken assumption that the climbing puppet wanted to be pushed. If the climbing puppet looked up, the babies assumed the climbing puppet wanted to go up. And if the climbing puppet had dark circles under its eyes and is trying to just get one goddamn full night’s rest, the baby would respond by screaming very loudly every 90 minutes.

So the endless debate over whether the itty bitty puke machines we call human infants have a moral compass rages on. I’ll be waiting for a definitive answer with bated breath — even though I may have been too hard on babies in the past (I’d apologize in writing, if I wasn’t 95% sure that babies can’t be bothered to learn to read), I hope to have a few of my own someday … that I’ll steal from Maclaren strollers left unattended by Angry Birds-playing mothers in the Whole Foods produce section.

Full article here:

The Cathys

Last weekend I was invited to attend my friends wedding, who Ill refer to as “Elaine”. Believe it or not, we’ve ran a few half marathons together.

Ill pause for your giggle.

I met her three years ago and was impressed by her ability to maintain a constant workout schedule. As you may know, I’ve been unable to keep most everything stable in my life for lack of ambition including exercise, diet, dick, hobbies, friendships, ect…. Well, except vodka. I’ve always loved vodka.

Ill get to that story later… but before I move onto the wedding, can I just say that people who preach about the “runners high” have never been high before. Just something to keep in mind before you get wrangled into a two hour plus event that makes you feel like you want to cry, crap and cuss throughout the entire ordeal.

So anyways, Elaine was finally getting married and I was so exited to support her. She’s been dating the same guy for almost four years and has been anticipating this lock down for some time. He is Mexican but doesn’t speak Mexican, but he looks kinda Mexican. He’s very nice and has a nice laugh. I couldn’t wait for the wedding.

The ceremony was to be a Catholic mass; I grabbed my seat and waited anxiously for the event to begin. All the little wedding soldiers piled down the aisle looking dapper. As we get started, I realize that I was in for a very long evening and I had failed to bring any snacks, reading material or Adderall to keep focused. I found solace in the fact that the priest was Vietnamese or Chinese, or maybe Thai, I’m not sure. His English was broken and while it was difficult to under his proclamations of the Lord, I found his weakness for the English language very cute. I felt this strange urge to pick him up and bear hug him in the middle of the ceremony. My mind began to wonder around the turn of hour one…. Maybe I could kidnap him and place him in my over sized handbag, after all he was a seemingly tiny man.

True to catholic form, it felt more like a  UCA Cheerleading camp and I had arrived a day late therefore missing the choreographer go through the chants that the congregation would be responsible for reciting the next day. How did everyone else in the ceremony seem to know all the eight counts? I began to frantically search through the pew filing cabinet where they place the hymnal thinking surely I had missed a handout explaining what to say and when. My hunt for answers left me empty handed.

Not only were these people or “Cathys” as I like to refer to them as, making me feel like an asshole but they were also making me work out. I haven’t taken a step class in quite a while and I was tirelessly trying to keep up with the pace of Up- Down – Kneel, Up – Down – Kneel, Up – Down – Kneel.

By the time the free food and beverages were announced I was excited to take a walk, stretch my legs, grab a drink check out the wedding party up close. Just as this ceremony was starting to come around for me, the priest announces that only the baptized Cathys were allowed to drink and eat but the rest of the crew was encouraged to come up for a blessing. I immediately retracted my previous thoughts of hugs and napping with the priest. He had a lot of nerve telling me that I couldn’t partake in the usual sacrament, but then again, I wasn’t surprised. The Cathys have a way of making outsiders feel like outsiders so I decided that I could use a blessing and took the walk anyways.

After an hour and forty-five minutes, the ceremony wrapped up. I found myself sobbing towards the end of it…. I didn’t know if it was the beauty and happiness radiating from the newlyweds or if it was the anticipation of the open bar that was awaiting me at the reception.

My friend’s dream had finally come true; she would have Mexican babies, become a Mexican housewife and dance her life away to the tunes of Jaunes which happens to be her favorite band. I don’t think there is anyone else in the world that I’d run 13.2 miles for, train through miles of hurt and endure the pain of shin splints and coping with the reality that I’ve had shit come out of my pants while being miles away from my starting/ ending point; which is why she’s the only person that I would happily sit through full mass through. Cheers to mi poco chica amiga!

Drinking for two

My husband recently gave up drinking for 30 days which has put me into a total tail spin of confusion and hurt. I mean I want to support him but I also did not sign up for a sober marriage so I’ve tried to find common ground by remaining moderately coherent Monday through Thursday. While this may seem like it aint no thing, think again. I mean, its not like I’ve turned my back on vodka but I’ve definitely taken a bit of a hiatus from my normal nightly buzz due.We are on day nine and I feel like I’ve landed in the fourth stage of AA – for those of you who aren’t familiar with the 12 steps, it’s the soul searching – moral inventory pit stop. I actually think that it’s probably the step that most people hit right before saying “fuck this”….. and landing back at the happy hour scene at their nearby Applebees conveniently located near Linda’s Low Priced Liquors.

I personally don’t believe in quitting anything completely even if it is just for thirty days. I mean who says you have to throw in the towel on all vices? Not me. Weekday vodkas have been such an integral part in the last decade of my life that I feel like I’m abandoning my mentor, the one clear thing in my life that has remained constant.

One of my only weekly perks is pouring myself a cold vodka vodka, hold the tonic, turning on NBCs Nightyly News and catching up on all the exciting world news of the day. Do you watch the nightly news? If not, start…. I’m real into it and it helps me get through adult conversations in a more convincible way. And can I just say bravo to Brian Williams…. He is such a cutey cute in a real manly buttoned up way. I wouldn’t mind letting him broadcast into my box…. I mean tv…. I mean box….. well you get it.

The last few nights I’ve had a wild wild west stand off with my dining room mini bar like I’m Wyatt Erp just waiting for the bar to make the first move so that I jump at an opportunity to attack.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a few cocktails but with every pour and sweet savory sip I can feel the judgment and guilt – probably the same bitter fumes that I give off when I’m trying to diet but miraculously we have a constant supply of 2% milk stocked in the fridge like we’re planning for a nuclear attack and intend on making it through the dark confusing nights with milk.

One odd solace I’ve found in my binge diet is that I really like the feeling of Vaseline coated onto my dry sober face at night. I literally have gone through almost an entire travel sized bottle in the last week. Strange, yet comforting.

I think my quasi dry spell is about up and this ole girl deserves a heavy cock to dip my tail in tonight.

Asia’s Got Talent

In the event I have the opportunity to get remarried, I will make certain that my 2nd husband is an Asian man, hopefully named Kim or John. Actually, considering my first husband’s name isJohn, Ill just stick with that.

I had the exciting opportunity to be a part of my very first Asian wedding, from what I gathered throughout the weekend there are many different varieties of Asians and this particular event was made up of Chinese, Koreans and Vietnamese. Growing up in a non cultural home, I maintained an impression that Asian people were small, smiley and had an innate ability to do acrylic nails.

While all those things may be true, they are much more complex than that.  

The day of the wedding kicked off around 9am, I woke up slightly hangover to an empty hotel bed and was excited about stretching my legs in a king sized bed without the hassle or hair of my husbands body lurking nearby. After a mid morning doze, I decided to get ambitious and start my day off with a cup of coffee, a bottle of water and mimosa. I’ve come to the realization that I may be the thirstiest person on the planet and it gives me great joy to have several liquid options to get my day started on the right track.

I managed to get myself together, apply 8 layers of make up comprised of Maybelline’s new mouse application (my verdict is still out on this product so don’t run out and get it just yet), concealer, tantalizer, blush, more blush until I rose the white flag and decided that cheap may be the new black. I was ready to go.

The wedding party, along with a few stragglers like myself waited with anticipation for the party bus. From afar, I could see an obnoxious looking black van with cursive writing on the side that said “Sam’s Limousine”….. could I be this lucky? Yes, it was ours for the day. One by one, we piled on to the caravan with as much excitement as Chaz Bono had when she got her first buzz cut.

It was noon in the real world but on Sam’s “Club” it felt like it was 3am which was good for me because I could feel my face melting down. As we made the trip from the hotel to the ceremony, the lights stayed dim, the strobe light was bouncing and hip hop jams were bumping from wall to wall. When I thought of how this wedding would play out in my mind, it did not include the sounds of Ace of Base, Nate Dawg, or Dr Dre, but I was mistaken, this was turning out to be one of the best pre-ceremony weddings I had ever been too. I was leery to forecast the rest of the day with such high marks so I decided to wait for my final assessment until the reception.

Once we arrived to the church, the bridesmaids separated from the men but lucky for me I didn’t have any real obligations since I wasn’t in the wedding party which made it very convenient to sneak in and out of Sam’s Club for a fresh cocktail as I waited for the ceremony to start.

The ceremony went off without a hitch, my husband looked like a little school boy standing next to the groom and it made my little toaster oven light up. Walking out of the catholic sanctuary, I took a little hand dip in the holy water. As I mentioned before, I like liquids and figured it couldn’t hurt.

The ride back to the reception site managed to live up to my high expectations for the rest of the day…. The stripper pole came in handy as I watched a fairly new mom and one of my closest friends take a twirl, I can barely get up from the bed much less uplift my body on a moving van to play twist around the stripper pole. This was awesome!

The groom passed around a bottle of crown and much to my dismay every single bridesmaid took a pull. I was amazed by these tiny little Asian girls ability to hold their own around a van full of overweight whiteys. As a veteran drinker, I often find myself having little confidence in other women’s ability to party in such a condensed and binge like fashion as myself, but my narrow minded perception of the Asian lady liver was proven to be very wrong.

So my favorite part of the wedding was saved for last, hold onto your cocktail because each table was dressed with a floral arrangement atop a Lazy Susan that included a bottle of vodka, a bottle of coke, sprite and tonic. Each white table received a bottle of Vodka, while each brown table received a bottle of Hennessey. Is this a joke, I thought? Surely, this cannot be happening….surely I did not settle on an open bar for my own wedding when I could have offered the convenience of table service?

Our table, table 17 managed to take down almost two bottles of vodka, granted I did have to steal a bottle from table 2, but they didn’t seem to notice and I attempted to be as undercover as possible. As I was pouring my fourteenth shot of the night, I overheard a noise from the speaker that was like no other noise I had ever heard before. My eyes darted to the dance floor and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The father of the bride was singing “I did it my way” by Frank Sinatra to Kareoke. I honestly could not believe my eyes. I took back my shot and felt some strange emotions boiling up inside me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of this tiny man belting out this beloved American classic. As my emotions were getting the best of me so was the leader of the brown Rat Pack, he was fighting back tears to finish the song! This is not a lie….. It was at that moment, I knew…….. not only had this been the best wedding I had ever been too but my mid life feelings of being a Jew were completely off. I was never intended to be a Jew, these are my people. They drink, they giggle, they dip all their foods in sauces and they stop weddings by putting on their own version of “Vietnam’s Got Talent”.

I’m sure the night ended well but I lost consciousness around 11:30 and fear that if I did remember the late night events that it shouldn’t end up on the world wide web for fear of imprisonment, unemployment and divorce.

Thank you to all my new Asian friends, I hope you will invite me to more of your events. Mazel

We hooked up

An eclectic menu to say the least, these Asians really know how to eat


P. F. Chang’s Chicken Lettuce Wraps

OK – so it is very rare and I mean rare that I can create something in the kitchen that isn’s a culinary catastrophe. As a seeker of schtick, I decided to take my chances at Chang classic, I made Lettuce Wraps (with beef) and its was the tits.  I also did stir fry with just brown rice, onion, egg, frozen pees, sesame oil, soy sauce, ginger and this awesome little packet I get from the store for $.78 in the Asian aisle, the brand is called “Sun Bird”, it’s kinda like cheating but I dont have a problem with it. I started the meal by cooking the rice first, it doesn’t take long at all to stir fry everything together once the rice is done. I also picked up some already-made dumplings from the sushi section of the grocery store – another cheat on my part. Again, no guilt.

 Try the Chang Wraps. You’re welcome.

Lettuce Wrap Prep time: 15 minutes
(depending on how often you venture into the kitchen, it actually took me about 30 minutes, but dividing that in half is about the average time a normal human being could prep this meal)
Total Time: 45 minutes
Services: 2-3


    • 3 tablespoons oil
    • 2 boneless skinless chicken breasts
    • 1 cup water chestnuts
    • 2/3 cup mushrooms
    • 3 tablespoons chopped onions
    • 1 teaspoon minced garlic
    • 4 -5 leaves iceberg lettuce

Special Sauce:

    • 1/4 cup sugar
    • 1/2 cup water
    • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
    • 2 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
    • 2 tablespoons ketchup
    • 1 tablespoon lemon juice
    • 1/8 teaspoon sesame oil
    • 1 tablespoon hot mustard
    • 2 teaspoons water
    • 1 -2 teaspoon garlic and red chile paste

Stir Fry Sauce:

    • 2 tablespoons soy sauce
    • 2 tablespoons brown sugar
    • 1/2 teaspoon rice wine vinegar

  1. First, make the special sauce by dissolving the sugar in water in a small bowl. Add soy sauce, rice wine vinegar, ketchup, lemon juice and sesame oil.
  2. Combine the hot water with the hot mustard, add your desired measurement of mustard and garlic chili sauce to the special sauce mixture to pour over the wraps.
  3. Bring oil to high heat in a wok or large frying pan.
  4. Saute chicken breasts or beef (I used flank steak) for 4 to 5 minutes per side or done.
  5. Remove chicken from the pan and cool.
  6. Keep oil in the pan, keep hot.
  7. As chicken cools mince water chestnuts and mushrooms to about the size of small peas.
  8. Prepare the stir fry sauce by mixing the soy sauce, brown sugar, and rice vinegar together in a small bowl.
  9. When chicken is cool, mince it as the mushrooms and water chestnuts are.
  10. With the pan still on high heat, add another Tbsp of vegetable oil.
  11. Add chicken, garlic, onions, water chestnuts and mushrooms to the pan.
  12. Add the stir fry sauce to the pan and saute the mixture for a couple minutes then serve it in the lettuce”cups”.
  13. Top with”Special Sauce”.