Because naked's just not your look.
First you send the money. Then you get the clothing. Then you get the women.
Or the men.
Whatever. It's all good.

Note from Gabe: With H2H coming up on the $1,000 raised mark, we figured it would be a perfect time to step back and reflect on the cool swag being donated to the effort. And because we asked real nicely and didn't make any sudden moves, Tyler agreed to climb down from the rafters long enough to offer up his thoughts on the prizes.
A great addition for any memorabilia collector, an autographed Ray Whitney jersey will instantly bring consistency and a scoring touch to your office or den, even into your house's late 30's. The only downside is that your friends will constantly bug you about swapping it with their stupid collectibles, despite the jersey coming with a no trade clause.
This package is truly a winner. The 2009-10 Ranger yearbook would be fine on its own, what with Chris Drury calling you his BFF 4EVER and telling you to have a great summer, but inside your new mesh bag you will find a lifelike and graphic model of Marian Gaborik's perpetually injured groin. (Recommended for ages 21 and up.)
Are you like me and always confuse Bryan McCabe with Bryan Berard? No? Like, never? Fine. Go throw yourself a smug parade, you hippie.
(Not to downplay the prize or anything, but how awesome would a signed Bryan Berard eye patch be? I can definitely picture a scenario where I would pay around $300 for that and not feel all that guilty the next day. Just a thought.)
Here you get four tickets to see the Tigers host the hated Indians on August 21st, from right behind the Detroit dugout. That's fairly baller. I mean just look at the number of things you can do sitting that close to the team:
1) Smell the alcohol on Miguel Cabrera's breath.
2) Yell "ZACH MINER????" 400 times at Jim Leyland.
3) Throw sunflower seeds at the back of Johnny Damon's head. (You won't have to worry about Damon retaliating, as a throw from the dugout rail to your first row seats should be safely out of his range.)
4) Take a 2nd-hand smoke break with Leyland during the 7th inning stretch.
5) Dance with "Paws" on top of the dugout between innings. Be sure to follow this with lots of beer consumption to fill the void where your dignity used to be.
6) Ask Curtis Granderson for an autog-- oh, right.
6) ... sob uncontrollably.
No better way to kill time in the bathroom than reading about hockey. The best part about these books: Drew Sharp isn't involved--
-- Whoa WHOA, you all don't have to donate at once, settle down! Be civil! Come on people, form a line, form a line ... don't think I can't see you, Kent in Livonia -- quit trying to cut in front of everyone.
We can play Tecmo Bowl or something? Okay forget I said anything, this isn't an actual prize. Moving on.
Obviously this is a nice addition for any Red Wings fan, but you have to be careful. Without sufficient time on your living room mantle, this photo will begin to sour and call you out at family gatherings. Then your relatives will freak out and never return to your house because a inanimate object was somehow talking to you.
This lifelike depiction of The Captain is a firm reminder for any Wings fan that, no matter how much you hope and pray for Steve Yzerman to be 25 years old again -- despite eternal offerings of your soul and brutal sacrifices of your loved ones -- he will never play for the Red Wings again. I'm not sure what this particular picture has to do with this, but I've now given you an idea of what the hours of 10 to 12pm are like for me on a nightly basis.
$5. That's all it takes. It's a fast food lunch, minus the nausea.
First you send the money. Then you get the clothing. Then you get the women.
Or the men.
Whatever. It's all good.