Jerking My Johnson

In late 2006, my beloved and I were finally getting serious about having a child. Unable to get her in the family way by normal means, we sought the help of a fertologist. When the gyno found no problems with her equipment, the attention was turned to my own. I didn't look at this as too unusual as two of my siblings had also gotten such help.

Thus an appointment was made in which I would spill my semen. This would be done at the (somewhat) world-renowned Mayo Clinic. A friend suggested that I bring a video as a masturbatory aid, but I had no such thing nor would I buy one for the occasion. Since people do this kind of thing all the time and Mayo is known as one of the best in most all the things they do, I looked forward to using whatever they provided.

I wonder now how those who belong to religions that forbid masturbating get around doing this kind of thing. I guess the desire to multiply trumps such precepts. Course, they could have their wife do it for them, but there's still the issue of the "spilled seed", a no-no in olden days.

Anyway, this lady showed me to my porn booth, I mean, my pleasure room and I started disrobing. I looked around for a rag, but there were none to be found. That's fine, I thought. I've long since moved beyond them. I noticed a TV and VCR/DVD combo up on the wall. There was one DVD in there, but it was a Sports Illustrated swimsuit video. What the fuck?! What do they think I am, 12 years old? No visible tits, ass, vag, rip off!! I'm not sure why Mayo had to be so fucking prudish on this, but whatever, they're not going to get the best of me.

I took the rest of my clothes off and it was going to be up to my imagination to get the deed done. It should be noted that until my mid-20's, I only ever masturbated on my stomach. That's the way I learned it as a kid and I never strayed until I had a girlfriend. I didn't even know it was possible to do it on one's back.

I can remember one evening when I was about 9 or 10 coming home with my family from getting groceries and having the extreme urge to rub one out. I laid on the couch (fully clothed) and started going to work. A minute later, my dad saw me and said in a rather alarmed voice, "What are you doing?" I got up and said, "Nothin". Another time, I did it (clothed again) on my parents bed (the extra space it offered was choice). My mom walked in just a few seconds after I finished. That was a close one.



One evening, afflicted with a bad cold, and sitting at the Kingdom Hall (Jehovah Witnesses' meeting place), I promised myself that I wouldn't do it again (JW's frowned on such things) if I got better. Did I hold to that promise? No, God shouldn't have given me such desires if he didn't want me to do it.

Going back to 2006, it took some time, but I was able to shoot my load after about 12 to 15 minutes. It wasn't easy, but what worthwhile thing is? I'd also like to note that I've never used any kind of lotion when taming the beast. Lotion is for wussies.

Mayo did their analysis and came to the conclusion that my sperm was fine though a bit slow. Why were they slow? Was it my laid-back demeanor or do the sperm actually affect my mood, making me feel that being chill is where it's at? Regardless, if I ever have to give another sample, I will be sure to bring along something that will make me jack it that much faster and more effectively: the 1983 Sears catalog.



I know it's not very explicit, but them 80's girls were HAWT.

Take Time

Sara Maitland's "A Book of Silence" makes note of something that Thoreau mentioned in one of his works, that a man's true wealth can be measured by how much free time he has. What kind of a life is it to spend most of the time working or occupied in other various forms of drudgery (cleaning, mowing the yard, washing one's undercarriage)? Sara says that many times when she is thinking of purchasing something, she'll ask herself, "Am I willing to work X number of hours so that I can afford to buy this?" On most occasions, she'll say no.

Like Thoreau, working 40 hours a week has never really appealed to me; I feel the upper 20's and lower 30's are more appropriate. Working less gives me more time to relax, not that I can't be in a relaxed state while on the job, but it's sometimes difficult, most notably because of the restrictions involved in wearing briefs. And what's the point of having so many nerve endings in the feet when they're all but deadened by wearing shoes? And don't even get me started on wearing ties. I discussed my gripe with those accursed things here.

Here are some more of my favorite quotes by the author of "Walden":



Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?

Every generation laughs at the old fashions, but follows religiously the new.

If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment.

It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see.

Most men lead lives of quiet desperation and go to the grave with the song still in them.

Most of the luxuries and many of the so-called comforts of life are not only not indispensable, but positive hindrances to the elevation of mankind.

Our life is frittered away by detail... simplify, simplify.

You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment.

Charter Part III

Charter Part I
Charter Part II

Damn, it's been more than two years since I last posted about good ol' Charter Communications (our local cable company). One aspect I didn't mention previously was a cool guy I worked with named Soune. He was of Asian descent and I consider myself lucky to have worked with him. We cracked each other up quite a bit.

One of the first things we did when a customer called in was to say, "For security purposes, could I get the last 4 digits of your social?" Many people would have to run through their first 5 digits before getting to the final 4. I used to say stuff to him like, "If I give you 20 bucks, will you give me the last 4 digits of your social?"

We were expected to make sales as often as possible. Soune's game was to get people to sign up for internet (a good moneymaker). He would open the conversation by asking the customer if they owned a PC. Many would say, "What's a PC?"

I ended up leaving because too much of an emphasis was placed on making sales. You could get demerits for not making enough of them. When I gave my notice, I said the primary reason was because I could theoretically be fired for not making enough sales. My supervisor said this wasn't true, but that's the way they made it seem.

I would've loved to see the director of the call center's face when he saw my reason for departure. You just can't treat people like that and expect them to be happy.

Drugs, Alcohol, & Other Fun Stuff

Last week, I was reading comedian Lewis Black's memoir "Me of Little Faith". He shared a number of experiences he had while growing up in the 60's. Needless to say, there were the obligatory drug stories, many of which colored how he feels about the world to this day. One of the main things he felt while under the power of illicit substances was that we are all connected to everyone and everything (the monster "Avatar" proposes the same). Now I believe this to be the case, though I don't typically experience it directly.

Many people will write off the things they feel while on drugs because, well, because they were on drugs, but I'm of the mind that they are capable of opening us up to deeper truths which makes it strange that the government makes depressants like alcohol legal, but not less potentially destructive substances like marijuana. I've never tried the stuff myself, but I can certainly see the appeal.

Of course, there are other ways that one can feel this oneness, meditation in particular, but I'm so lazy that I'd rather do it laying down instead of sitting up which leads in most cases to drifting off to sleep as opposed to achieving ultimate spiritual creaminess. Black's not much different, stating that he'd rather masturbate than meditate, that both lead to the same conclusion, anyway.

Holy Shit

Last Tuesday was the best of days and the worst of days. Things got off to a great start with a sizable bowel movement, but just before I had to take my wife to an appointment, I noticed that blood had been in my stool. I quickly headed to the internet and found that it could be a number of things: an anal fissure, hemorroids, colon cancer.

I told my wife about it as we drove to her appointment. She said to keep an eye on it, that she hoped it wasn't colon cancer (a first cousin of mine who is in his early 30's was diagnosed with that a few years ago). My love is no stranger to stool blood herself as she has GERD. I passed my time at the library while she was being seen. Curiousity got the better of me while there, so I headed to the cancer section and found a book about the colon variety of it. Standing there, reading the symptoms, I started to get a bit woozy; I once fainted in science class when a teacher was giving a detailed description of something (You can read it about here).

I realized that I best sit down for a while, so headed over to a seat and slumped down a bit. I then looked into checking out some books that wouldn't make me lightheaded. One was Under the Banner of Heaven by Jon Krakauer. It's about the beginnings of a distinctly American religion, Mormonisn.



It's interesting how Joseph Smith, the religion's founder, proposed that we all could receive revelations from God. However, he came to realize that this might not be a good thing as what happens when his revelations differed from others? What if mine says that he's a charlatan? He had to change things up a bit because of this. And that, my friends, is the main problem with religion. You are to trust in someone else's revelations over your own. If your experience is different than church leadership's, yours must be thrown out.

But back to my experience last Tuesday. As I sat in the car, waiting for my wife to finish up, I thought that maybe this blood would end up being the death of me, that I wouldn't be able to take care of my Pomeranian for the rest of her life, that I might have to leave this mortal coil before Sarah Palin gains even more power than she already has. Should I have gotten checked out earlier for cancer as my mom had once suggested?

That evening at work, I wondered if my next BM would be red. Interestingly, thinking this really kept me in the moment, really made me concentrate on what I was doing just then. I wasn't concerned about getting my taxes done or going on vacation this summer. I was just concentrating on the next day or two, the next time I dropped some friends off at the pool.

Later that week, I did make a shit. There was no sign of red and hasn't been since. It would seem that the monster I passed led to a bit of a fissure that did no lasting damage. Nonetheless, I look forward to having my first colonoscopy in the near future. The age of 40 looms and will come to me in the penultimate month of this year.

1998-2010

For the past 12 years, my favorite meal to eat at home has been the Healthy Choice Supreme French Bread Pizza.



In the late 90's, I'd come home for lunch, put it in the microwave, and while heading towards the TV, would throw a couple pepperoni pieces at the first dog I ever had, Zoe. This continued with Zoe 2 who came along in 2004 (her predecessor passed in 2000).

I typically have one of the pizzas every evening. There are some nights when I don't have one, but those are the exceptions to the rule. I figure I've eaten thousands of them, which means I've spent thousands of dollars on them.

In the latter part of last year, the pizzas, for some reason, were no longer available at Wal-Mart. That left Hy-Vee as the only place I could buy them (Target stopped stocking them a number of years ago). Then last month, an employee at Hy-Vee told me that the factory was going to stop making them. I bought a large number of them when I got this news, but knew the time had come to find a new favorite.

Two days ago, I went to Hy-Vee in seach of a replacement. "You'll find something", I told myself. Lean Cuisine used to make pizzas such as the Healthy Choice type, but the taste was rubbish. I did notice a new brand called Eating Right (made exclusively by Hy-Vee). They had pizzas in a square shape as opposed to oval, but the calorie and fat content was similar. They were also a bit more expensive than HC ($2.49 compared to $1.99). I decided that it was the closest to what I'd become accustomed to.

That evening, I was actually excited about giving them a try and they did not disappoint. I look forward to stocking up on them this evening. In my freezer, I still have 4 packages of the original HC's. I'll save them for special occasions over the next few months (the date on the packages have already passed). I will eat them slowly and mindfully, knowing that nothing on this earth is forever.