Getting Progress: Part 2

In short: I got zero progress this week.

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.

Link to the podcast I did with Christopher where we talk about old news and God and other things.


About Danniel
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