Thursday, February 17, 2011

Masturbation: A Sticky Situation, If You Will....

Masturbation has, and always be, the married, or just plain committed, man's secret escape.  More secret than the secret garden itself, masturbation is the one thing, eh make that one of the things, that guys have to fall back on when times are tough with the girlfriend, fiancee, or wife; when they're bored; when they're home skipping school with "a cold" and they know their mom is going to call in over lunch break to check on them so they can't leave the house.  Truth of the matter is, we all do it.  If your guy says he doesn't, then he's fucking lying.

When it comes to masturbation, there are several things to consider: schedule, length of the wank fest, jerk-off material, clean-up supplies, and lube.  I know what you're thinking girls: "There's no way it could be that involved or that complicated!"  But it is...

First of all, schedule is important.  If you've got a roommate, memorizing his/her class schedule is crucial, so that way you know when you've got the time to pull out the lotion and the j-rag.  Not only is knowing when you will have the time for it important, but it is also very important to take into consideration the hornyness of your girlfriend (if you have one).  I know, I know...a lot of you are thinking: "You have a girlfriend, why jack off??" The truth of the matter is, there just is nothing like an old fashioned self-imposed handy.  Back to the point, you need to know when your girlfriend is typically horniest.  You don't want to have just cranked one out and then have her come over after work, class, practice, etc...and be in the mood.  You can't just fire two rockets off in quick succession. It just doesn't work like that.  The all day sex fest is not all that common either, so shooting a blank off on your own time usually makes for a good time.  Also, we all know getting the first easy one out of the chamber is crucial for optimum performance.

Secondly, the length of the wank fest is important to the kind of mood you want to set.  Personally, I prefer the flat on my back, staring at the ceiling, prayin' to jeebus position, but others might like the hospital bed set-up with lots of pillows, some might like the jerk-off into the mirror move, and who knows, some people go for the old extension cord around the neck move.  Whatever fucking floats your boat, homes.   After you've established how much time you have, you're free to decide if setting up shop is something you can do or if you'll just need to go with the quickie tug.  This leads me to the next important factor of the manhandling process.

Jerk-off material.  We all know a good, dirty porno does the job for most of us, but some dudes are weird.  Face it, we all know the kid that has to have a grandma fuckin' herself with a pineapple while eating a stick of butter to get off, but thankfully, that's not us (I hope).  But depending on the mood you've set, sometimes a good old fashioned one-on-one can do it for you.  Other times you might need the girl-on-girl for a quickie pull.  Still other times, the do-it-yourself girl pleasuring herself might be just what you need for a nice, slow, lengthy release...you know, the kind that you might want after a workout as a cool down?

Clean-up supplies are also crucial.  You don't want to be caught without a j-rag.  Some people prefer the paper towel: super absorbent for the waterfall shots, plenty of coverage for the sprinkler spray, and big enough to fold several times for those gooey, sticky bastards.  Others prefer the tube sock...not sure why...I mean even if you planned on throwing the thing out anyways, that fucker has to be dirty as shit...dirtier than even the scummiest skank you could find a frat kegger.    Yet, the always economical option, the hand towel does a good job as well...throw that sucker in the laundry and you've got yourself a reusable j-rag.  We all know what's up, there's no need to expand.


But finally, the ever important lube.  Sometimes you've just got dry skin...maybe it's dry outside and you can't keep moisturized...yeah, you're a swimmer, the chlorine sucks your skin dry...whatever.  We all know what the bottle of lotion is really doing next to your bed.  Just admit it and move on.


But hey, say you do have yourself a girl that loves to fuck you all the time and she's out of town...if you find a girl that loves to fuck, seems into you and you actually find yourself wanting to jack off to the particularly dirty acts that you've done in the past when she's not around, fucking marry her.  I mean, masturbation is your own private fantasy world where you can fuck any girl you want, any way you want and she isn't going to think you're weird, make you pull out or wear a rubber, and she sure as hell isn't going to ask you to cuddle, pick up the kids, or take the trash out when you're done.  But if you're with someone so hot, amenable to the naughty, or whatever it is that when you take off to your own private retreat in the Palm Springs Hilton of your Mind, you actually want to pull something the two of you have done out of your spank bank, man you're in for a good life.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Bathroom stalls and sketchy halls

The Choice Is Yours...

Your wish is my command??

I mean, I guess... if you say so.

Ol' Fashion Fun

If only this was a co-ed locker room...

Blog post via email

So it turns out that you can blog from your fucking phone these days. That means any moron with a cellphone, myself included, can start a blog and simply text message or email a blog post to their account.  I'm pretty sure that this feature is going to be what eventually gets me arrested because I say some not so nice things when I'm drunk, but hey, what the hell. That's what this blog is all about: the quest for obliteration, blackouts, and horrible day after stories, right? Fuck if I know and I'm writing this thing.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Farewell to Four Loko (Part One)

A brief list of attempts at epic nights gone wrong.


Trying to drink four Four Loko:
One night, several days after a binge involving three cans of Four Loko, a lot of pizza, and a horrendous hangover, I decided that I would try to do the impossible idiotic best I could at attempting suicide without actually meaning to.  According to an urban legend, four Four Loko is actually supposed to make someone go crazy...I don't know where I heard this urban legend and I'm not even sure if it's true, but I decided to go for it.  The first loko went down like candy, as always.  The second loko had me feeling a little warm in the cheeks and a bit like killing some small children.  Halfway through the third loko, I knew that the task at hand was not something to be fucked with, but I had pride to maintain so I soldiered on.  When I opened the fourth and final Four Loko, my housemates, so I'm told, were considering taking me to the hospital, but I was walking fine, running faster than anyone had ever seen, and I was talking in complete sentences.  Before I could finish the fourth and final loko, I threw it at a stop sign and screamed "Let's go to the bars!" before promptly passing out on the couch in the living room.  I awoke the next afternoon to a headache that is indescribable, a trashcan full of puke, and what tasted like I imagine a family of dead field mice might taste like all through my mouth.  Never again, Four Loko. You win.


Tequila chased with Loko:
Crazier things have been done, I know, but this was pretty epic.  Feeling pretty good about ourselves, my buddy and I decided that our phase where we would split a pint of Bacardi 151 by doing straight shots before the bars was old news.  We moved on to bigger and better things.  A pint of tequila chased with some yummy Four Loko was the new task at hand.  Apparently, tequila and four loko is the recipe for me to pass out and for him to have a great night.  I awoke the next morning on the floor, face down next to my couch with photos of me taken on my own phone by my friends... Thanks guys.


The Need (part 1: Formal Events)

"Ok, fine.  I have a drinking problem.  Is that what you want to hear?"

I don't know how many guys have had to say this ridiculous statement to their beloved female companions following a night out with the broskies and the brewskies that ended with four empty bags of Taco Bell, a missing credit card, and an inexplicable bruise on the back of their arm, but the truth of the matter is this:  We don't have a fucking problem.

There are reasons, gals, why it IS necessary to get that drunk.  You see, the male sex is not primarily known for its ability to behave appropriately in social situations.  That's what we have you for: to nag at our elbows and tell us to slow down the drinking.

Weddings, dinner parties, hell even Irish funerals...they're all things that we would likely do without if the female race dropped off the face of the earth.
  • Even if we started pairing off to begin a life of homosexual activity, we aren't going to have a fucking wedding.  That's your thing, not ours.  We just do it so we don't start off the rest of our lives together on the wrong foot.  
  • Dinner? We would just be happy to sit down and watch re-runs of Sportscenter eating Cheetos and drinking beer with our flies unzipped...we don't need to throw parties to eat together.  Ordering pizza, having one of my friends grab a case of beer, and another bringing over some batteries for the remote is as much of a party as I'm likely to be throwing anytime soon.
  • And as far as funerals are concerned, I'm pretty sure the ancient Vikings just threw their dead mates and friends on a boat with some gold, possessions and set the thing on fire and shoved it into the ocean.  That's all we need to do to mourn our losses.
So when it comes to drinking, we don't have a problem.  The truth of the matter is that we get shitfaced in order to enjoy ourselves a little more or to dull the pain that sitting through a four-hour long ceremony about a lady we didn't even know afflicts on our ass.