Once again I started with the intent of talking about one thing, and ended up talking about another

I had originally planned to talk about the Terminator movie franchise today but I’ve had a sudden change of heart. I was in the bathroom taking a piss and as is usual when I have my penis whipped out of my pajama pants I started to think about Craig Ferguson. Okay, that’s not exactly true. It was Conan O’Brien I was thinking about, and that later led to me thinking about Craig Ferguson. I don’t normally think about guys while I’m taking a piss, in fact I usually make it a point not to think about guys while I have my penis exposed. But I was watching last week’s rerun of Conan and then I had to take a piss and while taking a piss I started thinking about the whole Conan possibly leaving The Tonight Show thing and how many people are liking Conan better now since the whole situation because he’s not being bullied around and he’s taking shots at NBC, but not cheap shots, shots most people believe the network deserves. But enough about that, I’ll save writing about that situation for another time. But thinking about Conan got me thinking about Craig Ferguson because I was thinking that all these talk show hosts just do crappy monologues where it’s just joke after joke after joke, and some are better than others, but a large part of the reason I like Craig Ferguson more than all the other late night hosts is because with him it feels more conversational. Like all late night hosts he’ll bring up something from the news and then they’ll be a joke based on it, but what’s different with him is that he’ll go on jags about the subject instead of just moving on to the next joke. So it doesn’t feel like I’m watching a late night show. It almost feels as if I’m engaged in a conversation with him, and I think that’s why I favor him more than the other late night hosts. But also more than any other late night host I’ve ever seen, I would say more than all the current late night hosts combined, he’ll talk about something serious. Sometimes he’ll do it in a lighthearted way, and sometimes he’ll be completely serious, but you can tell he’s not bullshitting and not just taking the minute to talk about Haiti relief because the network tells him it will be good for his image. He does it because he cares.

So I was thinking all that and peeing (it was a long pee) and I started to think, ‘that’s what I want to be like.’ I want to be like Craig Ferguson. I want to be funny, and I want to be funny in a way that everybody else isn’t, but also I want to talk about the issues that are important to me. And I’ve sort of realized this over and over again, yet I’ve never turned into that guy who talks about what’s important to me. I had one blog in the past where I talked about religion but I feel that was mostly just venting and anger and not constructive in any way shape or form. From time to time I’ll touch on the oppression of gay people, but that’s only because I’m probably guy (you’re trying to be serious here yet you still make gay jokes) which is actually another reason I think I bring up the gay thing so much, while I do feel strongly that they should be able to marry, talking about gays opens up the door for so many joke possibilities. And that is the perfect segue into talking about my biggest downfall. Although now the segue is somewhat ruined because I put this sentence here, and to think had I not put this sentence explaining how the segue was ruined here the segue would have been just fine.

“How do I make this funny”? That has to be the first, and possibly only, thing running through my mind whenever I do anything. I’m always trying to be funny (collective gasp across the nation). I feel like part of the reason I never talk about anything I really care about is because it would be harder for me to make jokes about it. If I’m talking about how stupid the electoral college is and how stupid the people who say with or without it it wouldn’t make a difference so might as well not change it are then it’s going to be a lot deeper hole I’m going to have to dig while mining for jokes. Whereas talking about anal fizzers would be like sticking my hand in a California river in 1848 except instead of gold it’s filled with jokes (the gold rush was actually in 1849) yes I know but I choose to say a year earlier because the rivers would be much fuller before the actual rush took place (touché) bless you.

But trying to be funny might not be my biggest downfall, even though I already alluded that it was. The main reason I never talk about anything remotely serious or important is because I feel so terribly, terribly stupid. Notice how I said ‘feel’, implying that I’m not actually stupid, I just feel like it? Yeah, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m actually so stupid that I forgot the meaning of the word feel so I thought I was calling myself stupid, which I am. No, in all honesty I know I’m not retarded… well maybe. I have my doubts. But I know I’m not stupid. Well not really. What I mean is that I know I’m smarter than a fifth grader, although not the ones on the game show of the same name. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m of average intelligence, maybe? I don’t know. Anyway, I damn well ain’t no smart guy. And thus I don’t feel like I can appropriately articulate my points when I’m trying to convey my opinion on certain topics. I’m more than sure I would come out looking dumb. So I guess a big reason for not talking about issues important to me is because I feel so stupid that for one I can’t talk about the issue the way I’d like to, and also that I’m so stupid that my opinion on the matter is probably wrong anyway so why even write about it in the first place.

So anyway the point is that I should try and talk about some serious things more often and cut down on the penis and masturbation jokes. That is it for today, now I must go masturbate (you just said you were going to cut down on the masturbation jokes) that wasn’t a joke.

Quite Possibly My Biggest Failure Ever?

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.

Updates on my Challenge

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).

ranDUMBness

The most ironic thing to ever happen in my life was when I knocked my tooth out at a Safeway store.

An experiment in typing:

My wall is painted blue. I don’t know why it is painted that color but it is. I have a feeling that my mom gave me an option, to a certain extent, of what color I wanted to paint my bedroom wall when we moved into our house around fifteen years ago. From the looks of it I chose sky blue. I don’t regret my decision. One of the few things I don’t regret.

I remember, I don’t know why I remember, but I remember that the people who owned this house before my family bought it used my room as an office type room. It makes sense since it is the smallest of the three bedrooms. I’m not sure what the office was used for. I just remember that there was no bed in the room and there was a desk, but no computer, which wasn’t odd in those days. I’d like to think that the owner used it as a room to write in, and that maybe the left behind essence helped pushed me towards the love of writing. Obviously, as showcased in my writing, had the former owner used the room for writing he must not have been too good. Of course that is assuming the whole transference of essence theory holds true, which it doesn’t.

The experiment has ended, and been daubed a failure.

I was watching the news the other day and saw that some guy crashed his car through an adult sex shop window, got out of the car, grab an item, yes, it appeared to be one single item, and then got back in his car and drove off. The whole thing was caught on tape. All I can say is that I hope he makes good use of the plastic vagina he stole because in prison he’s going to have to play the role of it.

I have no idea how big an acre is. I recently googled it and found out an acre is 43,560 square feet. I still have no idea how big an acre is. Is 43,560 square feet closer to the size of a football field or an elephant’s ass? I have no idea.

If I was ever going to expose myself in public I can guarantee you it’d be somewhere in Asia.

No, I like the previous joke better without having to explain it.

If I were to envy God it wouldn’t be for his omnipotence, but for the humongous penis you know he must have.