In long: I spent way too much time being depressed this week. I’m not even really sure what the fuck I was depressed about. I didn’t work out much this week, so that sucks, and might have something to do with my downer attitude. I feel better when I work out. I’m not a work out nut, and if you could see my body you’d see that it goes without saying, but you can’t see my body (luckily), so the only way it goes is with my saying. I mostly didn’t work out much because I kept waking up so damn late every day, except for the day I went to Christopher’s to record the podcast, which was exciting, except for staying there until midnight mostly playing Peggle and then walking home and not being able to sleep until five in the morning, which kept me on my horrible schedule.
God hates me. God doesn’t exist of course, which is a shame because what’s life without an omnipotent being to shit on me. Why does this nonexistent God hate me? Well I am a nocturnal creature, and maybe that has more to do with my genetics than God, but I am far more depressed during the night than the day, which is part of the reason I like to wake up early, so I won’t have to be up all night alone with my thoughts and endless internet porn that while aiding in my favorite pastime now only makes me more depressed.
If there was ever a picture to encapsulate what I wanted to say in this post this would not be that picture.
No one ever in the history of the entire universe would ever care for what I’m about to say, but this week I didn’t masturbate that much. If you want exact numbers I don’t have them – last month for budgetary reasons I had to lay off the crew I hired to keep data on how much I masturbate – but on two separate occasions I went more than 24 hours without masturbating, which is very rare for me. As you all know (because it’s mentioned constantly) I masturbate a lot. It’s something I’m not afraid to share. I should be afraid to share it, and don’t get me wrong I am definitely ashamed of it, but I’m a big fan of honesty, even unwanted honesty, like how much I masturbate. I’ve mentioned here before that I’m a morning masturbater. It helps wake me up. But on the morning before I went to Christopher’s house I didn’t masturbate. Very unprofessional of me considering I was going to record the podcast, and having not masturbated that day I was very off my game.
Depression does weird things to my masturbation habits – yes, this has turned into a post solely about me masturbating, so the faint of heart, or just those only interested in interesting writing, can turn away now. When I’m really depressed I don’t want to masturbate at all. All the times when I stringed together a fair amount of consecutive days without yanking it were times when I was really depressed, no doubt always girl related. But when I’m only kind of depressed, or mildly depressed – which is most of the time – I masturbate a shit ton. I don’t know why I said a shit ton, because if there’s one thing I don’t want to be thinking about when masturbating it’s shit. Could I masturbate to 2 girls and 1 cup? That’s a tough question. Obviously it’s no. But if the girls were hotter it’s a definite yes. I hope their parents don’t read that and get offended.
How is any of this related to my progress is life? The short answer is that it isn’t. The long answer is that it is. But that’s a lot of explaining I’m far to tired to do at five in the morning.
#42 It’s Cool, We Can Still Be Friends by Bright Eyes
This song always eventually reminds me of Eva, but not at all for the reasons the song would imply, and also note I said eventually (because you assume your readers are so dumb they wouldn’t have noticed it without you reminding them?) No, in fact quite the contrary, I think my readers are extremely smart, all two of them, Elana and Sam – I assume short for Samantha and to be honest I had no idea what her name was and I had to go back and look for it on her blog because in case she reads this I didn’t want her to think I didn’t know what her name was (mission not accomplished) all I remembered was her blog was named something like ninjapooptart, but probably not poop, possibly pop, and I was pretty sure that was just the name of her blog, and not her actual birth name.
This song is about a guy who used to be close with a girl but now they aren’t so much, and even though me and Eva have been very close and then not so close, we have never been close in a romantic way. More so in an I flirt nonstop and she comes up with new ways to ignore me kind of way. But we’ll go through periods where we’ll text or talk on the phone all night for two or three nights a week, but then we won’t talk to each other at all for like two or three weeks. Right now we’re at a good point in our friendship where we talk sort of regularly and I’m fine with just being friends and am content with just masturbating to the idea that maybe at one point she kind of almost wanted to have sex with me. That’s right, I don’t masturbate to thoughts of us having sex, because that would be completely unrealistic, but the idea of her maybe almost wanting to have sex with me at one point isn’t completely farfetched – even though I know her well I have no idea if she somehow reads this if she’d laugh at that or have no idea I was joking and be completely creeped out.
The eventually part is because the main concept of this song doesn’t really resonate with Eva and my friendship, but eventually I’ll remember that this was the Bright Eyes song that got me hooked on them, and then I’ll remember exactly where I was when I first listened to it, and then I’ll remember it was exactly around the time me and Eva first started talking, January of 2009. I know it would seem creepy to remember it that specific – luckily I don’t know the exact date – but it was at a time when a lot of stuff was happening in my life.
It was the first time I started feeling really ignored by that girl I once loved, for reasons I wouldn’t find out until later, so I got really depressed about that, and that’s the reason I started talking to Eva in the first place.
One night while on Myspace, before its untimely demise, wait a second, Myspace doesn’t really have anything to do with this story yet, I just recall being on it when I got a call from my sister, but the reader didn’t need to know I was on Myspace at the time, unless I just play this it off as adding extra detail to the story (and now they’ve gotten way too much extra detail) so one night while on Myspace my sister called me and she was hanging out with one of her friends – at this point you’re probably assuming it was Eva, but you’ll be surprised to learn that yes, you are correct in your assumption, good job Elana, and I’d congratulate Sam but she stopped reading after the creepy masturbation joke.
So Eva quickly says hi in the background because my sister made her or something and then my sister or whatever is showing Eva my picture on myspace (huh, turns out Myspace was relevant after all) and then she tells me that Eva thinks I’m cute and tells me to go look at Eva’s myspace picture and I look and I recall just thinking she was okay at the time, turns out she was really beautiful but at the time I was obsessed with the girl I loved so I really didn’t care how other girls looked, and I don’t recall what I told my sister but whatever and some other whatevers and the phone call ended and then later Eva friend requested me and we started messaging back and forth and then this reminds me of something mentioned in those conversations that happens a lot.
Somehow I mentioned that I was a virgin. I don’t recall how but it might have been something like this,
Eva: So what’s your favorite thing to eat?
Quentin: Steak. I like it rare, to the point that it’s still bleeding, just like vagina’s do every month, although I’m not well versed in vagina’s because my penis has never been inside one.
I’m very good at segueing anything to my virginity. But then she said the thing I absolutely hate hearing.
Eva: No way. I can’t believe a guy like you is a virgin.
I’ve heard that over and over and over and over again to the point that it’s no longer a compliment and more so makes me think about how much more of a loser I am because apparently girls think I can get laid, but somehow I still don’t. But at the same time it also makes me angry because these girls are saying it, but it’s not like they’re offering their selves up (probably because you refer to a girl having sex with you as her offering herself up) nonetheless it’s insulting because they’re saying I could totally have sex, but not with them (or maybe you’re just looking into it way too much?) that’s true of every situation.
Let me make my whole virginity thing clear quickly one more time, even though by now Sam is off assuredly doing something involving zombies and Elana has fallen asleep with her face planted on her keyboard but will wake up shortly once the three cups of green tea she’s drank fill her bladder and send her running to the toilet. It’s not that I won’t have sex until a certain point, like marriage or something. It’s just every single girl I’ve ever wanted to have sex with has either not wanted to have sex with me, I assume even though I’d never have the gall to inquire, or has been miles and miles out of the very short radius that my penis covers. So I don’t want anyone thinking I’m this great guy who doesn’t care about sex and is waiting for the right person. It’s only partly that. There have been, and still are, a few girls that if given the chance I would have sex with right at this moment, and a few more that I would have sex with but only after asking my mother to first leave the room (I don’t think that joke came off well, in case anyone didn’t get it it has nothing to do with incest). But I would say a larger part of being a virgin has to do with girls not liking me, or being far from me. Just wanted to make that clear quickly (failed on both the clear and quickly parts).
So over Myspace Eva gave me her number, but all I did was write it down and it sat in my room for about a week until one night after being ignored by the girl I loved for quite a while I couldn’t get any sleep and it was like 1 in the morning and I said fuck it, I’ll just call Eva and see if she can distract me. To my surprise she picked up and it couldn’t have been any more perfect. I said hi, and she said hold on and then hung up on me. I was in love. Or at least I fell in love with that being the result of me calling her for the first time. She called back and I told her who I was and she apologized and said I sounded like the guy from Twilight and we had a nice little conversation and I got some sleep and over the past two years I’ve probably talked to Eva more than I’ve talked to any other girl…yet she still won’t give up the pussy to me.
I wanted to end with that line just for the suddenness and humor in it, but I want my sister to read this because I’m going to be mean to her again and tell her I finally wrote another blog post about her even though I barely mentioned her and mentioned Eva way more and she’ll get annoyed at that and then she’ll probably tell Eva about this and when she does I at least wanna make sure that she knows that even though Eva is incredibly beautiful I would much rather just continue being close friends with her rather than having unbelievably orgasmic – for me – and incredibly awkward and annoying – for her – sex.
This is the song that started it all for me and Regina Spektor; our first date, our first kiss, our first marriage, our first kid, our first divorce, my first stalking her, our second marriage, all of which took place in my imagination. This was probably the only song of hers I listened to for well over a year before I got around to giving her another chance and discovered she had other songs I liked. I don’t know what it was about this song that made it stick out to me as the only song of hers I was willing to like at the time (it was the strength of sadness in the piano) oh, well now I know.
I woke up from a three hour nap about an hour ago. At one point I woke up during the nap to the song All Hail The Heartbreaker by The Spill Canvas and listened to about a minute of it while I was still vaguely awake and all I can remember is at the time I thought it sounded amazing, and like I was noticing parts of it I had never noticed before. It was weird. It was like for the minute I woke up from my nap I was drunk or what I imagine being high is like.
I only brought that up because I found this to be one of my better naps. Oh, and also I have nothing else to talk about, so there’s that too. Normally naps are horrible for me. For one I’m just a horrible napper in general. When I normally sleep it can last anywhere from six to fifteen hours, so when I nap it can last anywhere from half an hour to ten hours. I don’t ever intend to nap for ten hours, but sometimes I just can’t wake myself up. Those naps are horrible because I feel like I’ve wasted so much time, which is odd because had I been up those ten hours I probably would have wasted time in an even bigger way until I eventually slept and wasted even more time. Naps that range from half an hour to two hours are worse for a different reason.
I hate people who can be refreshed after taking a two hour nap. I’ve never been able to do that with the exception of one occasion where I was surprising refreshed, which was perfect because I had been up all night studying and still had about two hours left to study before a big test – I want not to get into my study routine but I see no other part of the blog where I’ll get in my obligatory masturbation mention, so I’m going to make a studying tangent.
Studying Tangent: When I was in community college, which is about the only time I ever really did any studying, like most folks I always procrastinated until the last minute. On one particularly night I had to write a three to five page argumentative paper on a topic of my choice – I choose gay marriage and almost titled the paper something akin to ‘just let the fags get married already all you dumb mother fuckers’, I thought it would first inform the reader that I was somewhat impartial, whereas in actuality the entire paper was full of anti-gay bashing (bashing of those people against gay marriage or being gay in general) and it contained a lot of cussing, which I don’t think college teachers really like, but I’m really stubborn when it comes to my writing, which like I always say is why my writing is going to continue to be bad forever. I also had to write a book review for a book I hadn’t read, and study for an extremely stressful history test where in an hour a fifty minute class I’m required to write a paragraph each on three smaller topics just describing their importance, then if I want at least a D I have to write at least a page on a small essay topic and then two pages on a larger essay topic, the questions of which won’t be known until class starts – these history tests are the hardest and most studying for any tests I’ve ever done. My studying starts with about an hour of vaguely studying while I say to myself I can’t do this and I should just skip class tomorrow and take the F. Then I masturbate. Then I write the paper. Then I masturbate again. Then I write the book review. Then I masturbate again. Then I frantically study for my history tests, usually while drinking some tea, and then I masturbate again, and then get back to studying frantically. I don’t know what I got on the argumentative paper but it was good enough to push my grade in that class up to a B, and then in History I was shocked to discover I got an A on both the review and both essays of the test and got an A in the class. My procrastinate, masturbate, study, masturbate, study, masturbate again, study method was a success. I guess masturbating takes stress away. I don’t know if it does less so after doing it four times, but it seemed to work for me. I don’t always masturbate four times when I study, but I’m feeling overwhelmed I’m not afraid to put down the books and pick up my cocks (you mean cock) um, yeah, sure. I’m not suggesting this will work for everyone, but it refreshes me, much like naps for other people, which unexpectedly gets me back on topic.
Whenever I wake up from a two hour or less nap I always feel more tired than I did when I took the nap. I used to have my schedule where I would get home from class at about 12:30 then I’d eat and try to nap and I’d get about two hours of sleep before I had to leave for class again, and every single time I went to class extremely tired. In fact about four or five times (which technically should have led to automatically failing the class but the teacher didn’t really care) I missed the class because I was too lazy to get up from my nap. I should have learned that I wasn’t a good napper, but I loved it. Well actually I just loved sleeping in general. But it’s a cruel love, because at least once a day I have to be torn away from it, and it’s horrible. It makes me wish I had a wife so I could say, “it’s like once a day some stranger breaking in my house and kid napping my wife, except that I wouldn’t mind,” zing! (Lame) I needed an ending.
I’m feeling like shit today. Not physically. Physically I just feel tired and super lazy, but that’s normal, especially for a Sunday. Mentally is where I’m not doing so great. My mental status isn’t normally terrific, but this past month has been pretty fantastic so I was getting used to feeling good on an emotional level, as opposed to constantly feeling worthless with mixed in spurts of masturbation where I just feel nothing, although the past half year while masturbating its become commonplace to wonder if there isn’t something more meaningful I could be doing with my time. I’ve started to do a great deal of self introspection during masturbating, which is insane because thinking about how the fuck I’m supposed to get where I want to be in life isn’t something I’d like to be thinking about while watching some chick with fake breasts go down on a guy with what I can only hope is a fake penis. I liked the olden days where I watched porn and would be thinking, ‘I wonder what her dad thinks about her career choice.’ If I have a daughter and I find out she’s doing porn I will be forced to commit suicide in a terribly embarrassing way, and there are three reasons why.
First of all if I found out my daughter was doing porn I’d never be able to get the image out of my head, even if I didn’t see it, my fucked up mind would fabricate some kind of sick and twisted scenario involving her, three guys, two girls, a donkey, and four rats, and then I would never be able to stop thinking about that, and I’m not sure I can live with that running through my mind all the time. Secondly I will have to kill myself because if my daughter does porn that will more than assuredly mean I have failed has a father, and that’s just not acceptable. And lastly, and this is where the killing myself embarrassingly part comes in, if I kill myself embarrassingly enough at family get-togethers sure enough everybody is going to be looking at her thinking she’s a pornstar and looking down on her, but then they’ll think about me and what a freak I was and how I killed myself in a bath of raspberry jam with fourteen dildos lodged in various places, and then her being a pornstar won’t seem so bad, and I figure that’s the least I can do for my little girl.
I’m a creepy guy. It’s not something I like, or try to do. It just seems to be one of those traits that keeps following me around. I’m not sure how to be not creepy. It’s my curse. I think I exude an exorbitant amount of a creepiness vibe, mainly directed at females. There are many, oh so many, things I hate about myself, but as of today being creepy is absolutely the thing I hate most about myself. I’ll admit it was a tough decision. I had many aspects of myself vying for the position. My penis was like, ‘come on pick me, look at me I’m so small. Oh wait you can’t look at me, you’d need a telescope. That’s right, not a magnifying glass, that’ wouldn’t be enough, you’d need a fucking telescope to see me, that’s how fucking small I am.’ My penis tends to never shut up. We have that in common.
I just got back from the buffet and once again I have realized what I always realize. That being that the buffet is where poor people go when they’re splurging on a meal. I guess the middle class go to places like Red Lobster or Olive Garden, although with all you can eat pasta at $7.96 anybody can afford to eat at Olive Garden (for the last time Olive Garden isn’t a sponsor) oh (and I’m pretty sure you made up the price $7.96) probably. And I guess when rich people want a fancy meal they go to Paris or have their personal chefs cook their Pomeranians, although if you’re looking for a cheaper way to taste dog Vietnam would be a good place to go. Take that you Vietnamese bastards. That’s what you get for making America look stupid during the Vietnam War, which we clearly didn’t lose by the way, and I think in time that will be made clear. I kid of course. All these Vietnam jokes are at the expense of David, who I know is reading this, or at least the first paragraph, which is why I included the Vietnamese jokes in the first paragraph.
I happen to like the buffet very much. Why? Most assuredly because I’m poor folk. You see people with money like to spend their money on food that tastes, for lack of a better word, scrumptious. I however like to get as much food in my stomach as I can for as little money as possible. With the buffet I can pay $12.50 and eat enough food to get me through winter hibernation, although that’s not necessarily a good thing. While I was eating I noticed that people were eating to the point of pain, which seems ridiculous. Eating is supposed to be fun, like masturbating. But if you overdue it it can become very painful, like masturbating. And then it will make you feel like you never want to do it again, not like masturbating, I’ve never once felt like I’ve never wanted to masturbate again. In fact while masturbating I often think about how I can’t wait until I can masturbate again. I’m kidding of course. Immediately after masturbating I feel disgusted and hate myself and all I want to do is climb down from the tree outside the redhead with the big boob’s room and go home and sleep, but of course masturbate before I sleep.
If you’re ever feeling bad about your weight go to the buffet. Yes it seems contradictory because eating at a buffet is only going to make you more plumb, but eating is not the point. The point is to look at all the fat people eating at the buffet. About 65% of all people at the buffet are people who would have to buy at least two tickets when flying on a plane. But again, buffet people are poor so they don’t get on planes much. The buffet is great for oversized people because they can eat as much as they want, but at the same time shouldn’t fat people be trying to avoid situations where they’re surrounded by food. I see some of these people sitting at their table with four or five full plates. At first I thought these people were confused and thought they were only allowed to eat whatever they could bring to their table and weren’t allowed to get back up again. Or that maybe they were taking all that food because they were afraid it wouldn’t be there when they got back up again. But then I realized those weren’t the reasons. The reason is that they don’t want to get up off their asses and get more food so they bring as much food to their table as they can so they won’t have to get up for awhile. The only exercise you get at a buffet is when you get up to get more food, but these Fatty McFatfat’s – as David would call them – found a way to cheat the system. Well I say bravo, and I applaud them, as you should too, because let’s face it they won’t be here very much longer. A heart attack can’t be far away, and soon after there heart won’t be able pump the gravy and mayonnaise that substitutes for blood through their enormous bodies.
Well I’ve done it, I’ve completed my mission and gone eighteen days without masturbating (the goal was to go the rest of the year without masturbating) oh, well I definitely failed at that.
That’s right people, to quote the great show Seinfeld, “I am no longer master of my domain.” My streak of days without masturbating actually ended some time ago, I think about just over two weeks ago, on my nineteenth day without masturbating. So while I did fail in trying to make it to the end of the year without masturbating, I also succeeded in breaking my old record of seventeen days. I think it’s about time I tell you how, and why I failed at my challenge, and why it’s taken me so long to tell you (because of course the people must be dying to know).
Well I actually meant to announce my failure to the world the day after it happened, but I found it hard to write about. And also I was too busy masturbating over and over again. But a day or two after I failed I wrote a very small first paragraph, the same paragraph that appears here first, but as I continued it was hard for me to word things the way I wanted to. So I stopped writing about it but revisited it a week later and finished it right before I had to leave for school. So I saved the word document, masturbated, turned off my computer, went to school, masturbated, came home from school, masturbated, masturbated, ate a sandwich with lots of mayonnaise, turned on my computer, masturbated, and opened the word document that contained what I had written about my failure of my challenge, and wouldn’t you God damn know it the document was blank, not a God damn word written on it. I don’t know what happened. I assume I fucked up somehow while saving it. But either way I had to rewrite it, and it wasn’t until now, about two weeks after my great failure, that I decided to write about it again.
Let us get one thing clear. I did not fail because I absolutely had to masturbate. I failed because I was going to die if I had waited one more second before masturbating. No, but really, I think I could have went at least two more weeks without masturbating had I really wanted to. Part of the problem was I couldn’t envision myself going the whole rest of the year without doing it, and that was the goal. It wasn’t to make it to the middle of October without masturbating. If I couldn’t make it the whole year, which I was sure I couldn’t, I needed to cut and run and save myself the prolonged agony of not pleasuring myself. And on the day when I decided to quit I had realized that I had already broken my previous streak without jerking it so it seemed like the ideal time to quit if I was going to quit, which of course I did. So that was one of the reasons I failed.
Another reason was the fear of the dreaded wet-dream. According to my memory I’ve only had one wet-dream in my life. This is most likely due to the fact that I started masturbating pretty young, ten, so I didn’t give myself much time to have wet-dreams. I had taken to manually cleaning out my pipes on a regular basis. My one remembered wet-dream didn’t happen during my stint of seventeen days without masturbating. It occurred a few years before that while I was in high school, and my only guess is that it took place during the football season, because often times I would be too lazy to masturbate after a long day of school and then exhausting football practice, so it wasn’t uncommon if I went three or four days without masturbating. I know that doesn’t seem like much to common folk, but for me that converts into what it would be like if a normal person went three or four months without masturbating. So I awoke one night, and I remember it wasn’t from a particularly pleasant dream, and my boxers felt sticky, and it was just a total mess and completely uncomfortable and I’m not even going to go into details about it because it’s too painful to recall. So I really did not want to have another experience like that.
I had had talks with two friends, one the day before I failed – this talk had no effect on my deciding to quit – the other the day of my failure – this one had a little more effect on my deciding to quit, and wouldn’t you know it the talk was with someone of the female race. The reason I bring up my conversation with these two people is because I found them remarkably funny. First of all these two people have been two of the more adamant people in the past about telling me I masturbate too much. But now they were calling me stupid for trying not to masturbate for the rest of the year. Make up your mind people. And then they started telling me that I needed to masturbate because it helps prevent prostate cancer. When they told me this I couldn’t stop laughing. I’m still laughing to this day. And the reason I’m laughing hysterically is because when they told me that I was masturbating too much I had told them that masturbating helps prevent prostate cancer. And they laughed, apparently not believing me. And then of course a few short months later when this fact I had shared with them was actually in favor of their argument they use it against me. It’s funny the different reactions I had with each of them though. I mean with both of them I laughed, but also with the guy I wanted to tell him to fuck off because I was the one who had first gave him the information about masturbation and prostate cancer and he appeared not to care when I told him then. And with the girl I wanted to say “hey, let’s shut up about masturbating and prostate cancer, and why don’t you hop on the next plane over here so we can make some sweet love.”
So yeah, those are mostly the reasons why I failed my challenged and started masturbating again. But now everything is back to normal. Everything is going smooth between my penis and hand and I don’t see them breaking up anytime soon. That is unless any girl would like to come over here and satiates my manly needs for me? No? No one? Not a single girl on this planet? I’m willing to take a fat chick? Hell I’ll go with an obese girl at this point? Still no? Fine, what about a man? (Now you’ve gone too far) It’s all in the spirit of laughter. But seriously, it does look like it’s just going to be me and my hand for quite awhile.
Day 7: Memo to self: stop looking at Scarlett Johansson, it makes you way too horny.
Day 8: Today I hung out at Thai Son’s house with a bunch of other friends and we had some good conversations and some food and some iced tea that David thought was too sweet but I thought was pleasant enough. Almost more than anything I love hanging out with my friends. I mean sure we talk about such stupid things sometimes but I enjoy it thoroughly. And it keeps my mind of all the bad things in life. And not once while hanging out did I even think about masturbating. Well except when Quy bent down to pick up his keys (really, you’re going to admit that here?) I didn’t want to masturbate to his ass. It was just tight and firm and I was thinking about how weird it would be if I decided to masturbate to the vision of his sweet ass. (You know for about a quarter of a minute you had finally got people to realize you weren’t gay, but I think you just ruined that) yeah, and that was one good quarter of a minute.
Day: 9: I watched a bunch of football today and then I went and played some flag football and then I got home and watched some more football and then my head hurt a lot from this collision I had during the flag football game with this guy whose a lot bigger than me so I slept and then I woke up and luckily got to have a conversation with some chick and have her tell me about a time she had sex for seven hours, and that just about killed all the self-esteem I had remaining in the sex department, and now I’m completely convince that when I finally do have sex I will be absolutely terrible and the girl will go tell all her friends and it will get spread across the world how Danniel Quentin Trujillo is the worst person ever at sex and then no girls will ever have sex with me again and I’ll never fall in love because no girl wants to be with a guy who sucks at sex and then I’ll die alone, but maybe I’m thinking about this a little too much.
Day 10: So horny!
Day 11: I went to the lake with my family and while there saw a few naked very young kids swimming around. Sometimes I wish I could be like those little kids and walk around naked and not care. I mean I don’t really have the desire to walk around naked, partly because it would be creepy but mostly because I have a small penis, but sometimes I really wish I just didn’t care about some things.
Day 12: Haven’t had the desire to masturbate today. I feel so lethargic, and after having just looked up the word ‘lethargic’ I can say that yes that was an appropriate word to use. Even if I felt like masturbating I’d be too lazy to actually do anything about it. This reminds me of a conversation I was present at between my sports buddies. It was about how sometimes it’s so much better to get head than have sex because you don’t have to do anything when you’re getting head. I have two groups of friends, one which has had a lot of sex and the other which has had no sex. For obvious reasons I fit better with the group that has had no sex. It’s funny to compare the conversations between these groups. For one my buddies who have had lots of sex talk a lot about sex, and mainly their experiences having sex. They may notice that I’m terribly quiet during those conversations. I may or may not be taking notes. Me and my other friends will talk about sex a lot too, but mostly about what the hell goes on during it. Sure we’ve all seen porn, but real sex can’t possibly be as wonderful as that. I imagine real sex must be hideous. Sticky sweat all over, body parts flying to and fro, bones being pulled out of sockets, blood dripping from every orifice, and when it’s over a prayer is taken in honor of the victims. But mostly when I think about sex it usually concerns the impossibility of me actually having sex. I can foresee no possibilities where I’d actually be able to have this sexual intercourse craze I’ve heard such wonderful things about.
Day 13: The episode of Seinfeld where the characters have a competition to see who can go the longest without masturbating was on. It’s a funny episode and I was always hoping me and my friends would have that competition. I would have of course been the underdog since I think it’s a given fact I masturbate the most. I had hoped me and my friends would be like the characters in Seinfeld, but it turns out that we’re more like the characters in The Big Bang Theory, but a million times dumber.
For a brief moment I forgot what masturbation was. I haven’t done it in so long that my mind couldn’t wrap around the concept of me wrapping my hand around my penis to receive pleasure. Luckily this only lasted for about fifteen seconds, but it was a scary fifteen seconds. It was what I imagine it’s like being blind. I was just wandering around with no sense of direction, bumping into things, contemplating suicide. I just may be able to get past these next three and change months without masturbating, but if I had to go a lifetime without it I might as well get out the noose now. Or I guess I could just try that sex thing. Man, I’ve been thinking about sex way too much lately. It must be because I’m not masturbating as much. Although I’ve also been thinking about being lonely way too much lately, and I can’t figure out how that correlates with me not masturbating. (Your penis must have gave you company.) And it never once called me creepy.
Day 1: I have no desire to masturbate. It sounds disgusting to me. I feel like I never want to masturbate again. Oh my God I need to masturbate now or else I’m going to die!
Day 2: So many moments throughout the day when something peaks my sexual interest and I think ‘now would be a great time to jerk off’ but I hold back my desire and five seconds later I’m feeling fine.
Day 3: Had the most bizarre conversation about sex with a very attractive chick. At no point did I ever feel horny and want to masturbate, probably because I am very friendly with this girl and we were mostly joking. But it was a very sexual conversation indeed for two virgins to be having.
Day 4: The only thing I’ve ever enjoyed on my birthday was masturbating and now I can’t even do that. Sometimes I masturbate to stave off depression and other times I’m too depressed to masturbate. I guess today my choice is to be too depressed to masturbate. (Happy Birthday) Why thank you, I’m so glad you remembered (I was actually talking to Jonathon Taylor Thomas of Home Improvement frame) oh.
Day 5: It’s weird waking up and not masturbating. Sometimes in the past I would use masturbation to wake me up. If I woke up and had to be somewhere in ten minutes – I don’t know where, I never go anywhere – I’d be like, ‘whatever I’m going back to sleep.’ But if I woke up even three hours early and thought, ‘hey, I could masturbate now,’ I hop out of bed immediately. And if I wake up tired and need a quick pick me up, masturbation is my coffee.
Day 6: I did it, it’s been six full days and that means I made it a full week without masturbating (first of all there are seven days in a week, and second the sixth day isn’t even over yet). I knew that, I was just trying to be humorous for all the readers out there (sure you were). Just thinking about all their laughing faces warms my heart (I imagine the people reading this are not laughing but wondering where they went wrong in their life that they debased their self to reading about you not masturbating). Well that’s just insulting to the readers (but now you’re assuming there are readers). It helps me sleep at night.
Today it wasn’t hard not to masturbate. I finished watching the last nine episodes of Friday Night Lights season 3 so that kept me busy. And even though I find Aimee Teagarden absolutely beautiful, and I always forget that she’s probably the celebrity I’m most attracted to, she’s not super sexy but more cute so I don’t really have the desire to masturbate to her, and I’m pretty darn sure I haven’t yet even though she’s get a great pair boobies. I love her teeth. The football season is starting in a few minutes and I’m going to watch the game and see a whole bunch of sweaty athletic men run around in tight pants, so this may be my biggest challenge to not masturbate so far (ha ha, another gay joke, how unique for you) I have to stick to what I know, and that’s gay, masturbation, and I have a small penis jokes. Although the small penis jokes aren’t really jokes but I feel if I say I have a small penis enough people will think I’m joking and that I really have a huge penis. I know it’s weird logic but I feel my small penis has messed up my ability to think straight (I think I should try distance myself from you).
I know it seems far too cliché, but I’m quite certain that I was watching Baywatch. I don’t know if it was because of Pamela Anderson, or Carmen Electra, or Traci Bingham – I damn well know it wasn’t because of Gina Lee Nolan because ten year old Quentin liked big ole fake looking tits – but someone’s boobs bouncing around made little Quentin’s penis tingle, and little Quentin was bored on a Saturday afternoon and decided to experiment. Little Quentin fell in love that day. But little did little Quentin know that the love was only one way, for masturbation would take advantage of him and make him waste so much of his young life. Well now older and wiser Quentin (although only a little bit wiser) wants a separation from masturbation. Not forever, I just feel me and masturbation should go on a break, maybe date some other people. My hand would like to play catch sometimes, maybe meet other hands and play a game of Thumb War. My hand can’t spend its whole life in submission to my cock.
I can say definitively that I’m not addicted to masturbating. Hmm, I think I can say definitively that I’m not addicted to masturbating. I’ve gone without masturbating for a while in the past before. Sure it was only for three or four days at a time, but for me that seemed like an eternity. The longest I’ve ever gone without masturbating was seventeen days. It was almost exactly three years ago (September, 06) and it was at a point in my life where I was constantly distracted and therefore didn’t have hours and hours of spare time everyday that I ended up using to masturbate. I remember I was busy with the parody song me and my friends were working on that conveniently has just been posted on Youtube the past week. It was right before I started my first year of community college so I was preparing for that. But I think the thing that kept me from masturbating most was that there was this girl I liked, and in some weird turn of the cosmos, possibly a fucked-up joke by the Gods, this amazingly attractive girl actually liked me back (although less than two months later she would go on to call him a creep, but that’s a story for another time). So I spent most of my days wondering how this girl could possibly like me, and thought of all the scenarios of how it might go wrong, because I knew it wouldn’t work, but in all the scenarios I thought up none of them included her calling me a creep, so that was a nice surprise. But anyway the point I’m trying to make is that I don’t masturbate so much because I’m addicted, but because I’m bored. I have so much spare time that anytime something happens across my mind that makes me even the slightest bit horny I’m not doing anything important so I can whack one out with no interruption to my day. But a problem arises because I could be spending all my free time doing much more productive things. Sure they won’t ever be as pleasurable as that one second of perfection that is brought about from masturbation, but I think I could be doing stuff that could help me with my life.
Eleven years of masturbation and if you told me that I’ve wasted more than a year of combined masturbation I wouldn’t be shocked at all. Now that includes all the time I’ve spent looking for the perfect thing to jack off to, which is what most of the masturbation process is made up of. I’ve probably spent less than an hour of time with my hand actually moving up and down on my member that makes me a boy. It’s the searching, and searching, and searching, that is such a big waste of time. Every time I always tell myself to just get in and get the job done as fast as possible, but I always spend hours looking for the perfect thing (you’d be amazed how hard it is to find bestiality on the internet) hey that was uncalled for (what, I can’t make jokes?) No, you’re supposed to be the well respected, truth telling side of me (okay, sorry, no more jokes from me, in fact I may never return). But in all honesty (and he is being completely serious here) when I look back at all the hours I’ve wasted masturbating it’s so sad. And when I compile that with all the hours I’ve spent watching unfulfilling television it becomes very depressing. And then when I compile both those with all the time I’ve spent just lying on bed not really thinking about anything it becomes suicidal. Well not really, but it does make me ashamed of this life that I’ve been granted by the Universe, or the Gods, or whatever you’d like to believe in, and I’m not doing anything with it but apparently masturbating. I mean this is probably all I get. An afterlife isn’t guaranteed. And even if it was I’d be a shoeing for Hell. I need to stop wasting this life.
So last night, 11:58, I had an orgasm. That has nothing to do with this I just thought you should know. No, but really I plan on that being my last orgasm for a little while. It was a very unfulfilling orgasm too. The truth is that I didn’t even want to masturbate last night but I needed to so I could say that this was day 1. But that orgasm will be my last of the year if everything goes right. That’s right I plan to not masturbate for the rest of 2009. And also no sex of any kind (ha ha ha, you didn’t have to make that statement; there was no sex in your near future anyway). You never know? I’m not a terribly unattractive guy. And I can be sweet sometimes. And the fact that there are guys out there who look worst than me, and have worst personalities than me but are still getting laid could’ve driven me crazy enough to go to a prostitute. But that’s not the point. The point is that I’m not going to let my penis run, and then ruin, my life. It’s not big enough for me to let do that. I’m going to put my time to good use. Well let’s just say to use better than masturbating. So from this point on if you see me in the year 2009 you can no longer expect to see me masturbating, which was highly questionable before I decided to swear off masturbating.
By the way I don’t think I’ll make it past the week.
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