Everything is wrong with me
Thursday, November 11, 2004
 
a question, Thai, tv, boobs, linking, the refractory period, music
My roommate Brian and I always ask thought-provoking yet completely absurd questions of each other (see 8/24). It's sort of a psychological exercise in which we can jump right into the core of each other's beings, hopefully without wearing any pants and having "forgotten" condoms.

Last night I was feeling a bit wishy-washy about love. I occasionally get a little wishy-washy, as I am a Cancer, so I guess that means I'm emotional. I also have trouble not pissing myself when I do coke; whether or not this has to do with being a Cancer, I'm not sure.

But mostly I was emotional last night because another holiday season is quickly approaching and that means one thing for me: masturbating in front of the mirror with a Santa hat on.

[Man, today would be a really bad day for my parents to start reading this. Gay sex with my roommate, doing coke, and watching myself jerk off. My god, I'm sorry.]

Anyway, the question was, "Brian, would you give up everything for a woman?" Brian, who at the time was smoking a cigarette, took a deep drag, looked off into the distance, and finally said, "Well, it depends on how much I have."

Very true.

For example, right now I don't have much going on. Sure, I have a good job. However, I don't have any money. I blame this not on my terrible spending habits ("Even though mine works perfectly fine, I think I'm going to buy a new iPod, since it's only $400") but on the fact that NYC is entirely too expensive. Also, I'm addicted to alcohol.

I don't have many friends, and I don't especially like the ones that I do have. I'm pretty sure my friend Greg tried to poison me three weeks ago (because of current legal issues, I can't get into the details at this time).

My family, which for years has thought that I have potential, is getting impatient waiting for me to capitalize on this potential (I don't know how - starting a business? running for office? starting some sort of espionage syndicate?). But they are learning each day that this "potential" was really just laziness well-concealed by constant self-aggrandizement. Therefore, they are turning against me. Although not entirely positive, I'm pretty sure my mom tried to push me down a flight of stairs last time I was home. Also, my dad stabbed me in the shoulder. Three times. Well, twice in the shoulder, once in the upper arm.

Other than that, what else do I have? I'm going to school, but "going to school" is the best way to describe it, since all I'm really doing is showing up, sitting there, leaving, and then not thinking about it again until the next class. I have this website, which is nice and good and all and gets me the occasional booby picture (thanks again Kevin), but it has made me both undatable and unhirable, once I get canned when my employer finds this.

So yes, I would give all this up for a woman. And it doesn't even have to be a particularly attractive women. I would prefer a woman who isn't a paraplegic, but if not available, I'll make due.

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For those in NYC: if you like Thai food, you have to go to Sea, on 2nd Ave between 4th and 5th (there is also a much fancier one in Williamsburg, but that's in Brooklyn, and, well, you know).

The food is absolutely amazing. Well, I shouldn't say "the food" is amazing, because though I've been eating there for three years I've only ever gotten one entree: chicken pad thai. But it's unreal, and they give you about two pounds for only $8. To go with it, get the Tip-Tum Fritters. At least 29% of the reason I'm moving back to the neighborhood (in June - ugh) is to be in the delivery area of this restaurant.

Now I'm fucking STARVING. And when I use all caps like that, you know I mean business.

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Three shows that have changed my life this week but I will probably not watch again: "My Big Fat Obnoxious Boss", "Rebel Billionaire", and "Wife Swap".

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Speaking of tv, the Victoria's Secret commercial about their new push-up bra (without padding!) should not be allowed on television. Seriously. Every time this comes on when I'm eating, I immediately spit out whatever food is in my mouth, for fear of choking from having a seizure looking at those gorgeous mags*.

...

I'm sorry, but I have to stop writing about this.

[*mag is a derivation of "maggies", which is a derivation of "saggy maggies", meaning, literally, large, cumbersome and unattractively saggy breasts. However, my friends and I have devolved the term from its original definition so that mags means large, and more often that not, wonderful breasts. As in, "My god, look at the fucking mags on that broad! Holy shitballs!" So there.]

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The nicest thing any other bloggers who read (and for some reason enjoy) this blog can do is to link me on your site. That is the bestest compliment in the whole wild world. You don't need to ask if you can link me, because you absolutely can. Seriously. I don't care if your site is trying to raise funds for your local neo-Nazi candidate; if it'll bring be more readers, and one of those readers happens to be a woman of ill-repute who after too many shots of Jager is willing to stick her hand down my pants, well then that's perfect.

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Cool term: refractory period. Generally, it is the time of various biological processes, but sexually speaking it is the recovery phase after a man has an orgasm during which it is physiologically impossible for him to have another orgasm. In layman's terms: the time between blowing loads.

Women, though they unfortunately have to deal with pregnancy and menstruation and making out with guys thing, do not have a refractory period, and are capable of having repeated consequential orgasms (I don't really believe this, since everyone knows that women being able to have orgasms is a total myth, like Sisyphus and black people being able to vote).

I don't really know where I'm going with this, except to say that when I was younger and had first discovered the joys of masturbating, my refractory period must not have been longer than five minutes. I was a machine (sadly).

But I think all that self-love at such a young age has taken it's toll, since now we're looking at a refractory period of at least four to five days, and longer in summer. My goodness - it's almost like I have to go straight to bed after beating off because I'm so exhausted. There have been times when I beat off before bed, then almost called out of work the next day because I couldn't get out of bed to go to the bathroom, let alone masturbate again.

[Man, I really hope my parents aren't reading this. I don't know what's gotten into me today.]

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Six songs:

- "Heroes And Villains" Brian Wilson
When I listen to this song, I can't even tell which sounds are being made by voices and which are being made by instruments. The whole album, Smile, is amazing. A cappella: cool when Brian Wilson, Boyz II Men, or anyone else famous does it, not cool when you do it.

- "To The End" Blur
What a pretty song, all about getting wasted, arguing with your lady, and having a terrible break-up (right up my alley). Can someone please tell me what she's singing in French? Please?

- "Natural Born Killaz" Dr. Dre and Ice Cube
Arguably (ok, very arguably) the greatest rap song of all time, and at the very least the most influential for me. My dorky friends and I used to roll up to high school football games blasting this song. And yes, we were virgins. "You never sleep, 'cause every time you doze/You catch blows to the mutha fuckin' nose". Does it get any better?

- "Two of Us" The Beatles
Arguably (ok, very arguably) the greatest love song of all time. I just want to listen to this in a country house with a beautiful woman on a warm spring afternoon. And then we'll have sex. And then she'll order me a pizza. And then she'll have her friends come over, and they'll all have sex while I watch a football game. Also, the pizza will have chicken fingers on it.

- "Around The Way Girl" LL Cool J
A true urban love poem. I listened to it recently and was suprised how dated it was when I heard the line, "Perm in your hair or even a curly weave/With your New Edition Bobby Brown button on your sleeve." Damn - that was like eighteen years ago!

- "Put A Little Love In Your Heart" Jackie Deshannon
If you can listen to this song without singing along, you are an ice-cold robot Communist asshole and you're going to hell. When you get there, give me a ring - I'll swing by to say hello and give you a high-five.



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