I masturbate sooooo much. Itís starting to get pretty serious. Being a senior in high school, Iíve had this problem for some time. Iíve tried to get help, but the counselors donít know what to make of it (maybe the psychologist the principals made me go to could help me with this problem, as well as my writing problem).
Initially, I tried to make the best of my situation.
I filled out a gym alps form and set up an appointment for an approval meeting and everything. Well let me tell you, Mr. Wehrli was less than thrilled.
A couple of days ago, I walked into the Amherst Police Department with plastic handcuffs on my hands, and I said ďtake me in, officers,Ē and told them of my crimes. But they just turned me loose. (It turned out that masturbating is, in fact, not illegal. Either the law is way different in Florida, or Iíve got a bone to pick with my grandma.)
I was going to go to confession to get some Catholic perspective on things, but, well, I just stayed home and masturbated instead.
A friend of mine once actually quit masturbating when we were thirteen. He said he felt bad about it, and he didnít like the way it felt. Afterwards, I mean. (He only lasted a few months.
The rest of my friends couldnít understand it, but I could. Iím just as ashamed of myself as the next guy (not as ashamed as the next girl), but I thought it was a little irresponsible from a statistical point of view. Then again, I guess he doesnít bear quite the same cross that I do; if I stopped masturbating, it would screw up the whole national average.
At least girls donít masturbate. We should keep Ďem pure. Them being the fairer sex and all. Last year, the national average of girls that masturbate was rounded down to zero percent, and they took the one girl who said sheíd tried it (but didnít know how*) and tossed her into the Mississippi to see if she would float.
The last thing any of us wants is to have women feeling like theyíre in charge of their own bodies. I think more should be done to make it clearer to women that their vaginas donít belong to them. They belong to men. And the men who own them would really appreciate it if women would keep their little exploring fingers to themselves.
Whatís the sense in letting a woman touch herself, may I ask? Why, itís as silly as letting small children poke around the top shelf of the pantry.
And now most of the teachers are turning whiter than they already are.
I hope you all enjoy your new view of the blind, sinful, hairy-palmed underbelly of ARHS. Stop writing letters home and sending kids to the guidance office. When teenagers donít do their homework, itís because theyíve got bigger fish to fry.
Want to hear a story? One time when I was thirteen, my friend and I were staying with my grandparents, and my grandmother wouldnít let us go out to run around in a thunderstorm because she was afraid weíd die.
So I put on my shirt that reads ďIíd rather be masturbating,Ē and said, ďlike my shirt, Grandma?Ē
ďNo.Ē
ďWhy not?Ē
ďI just donít. I donít want to talk about it.Ē
ďWhy donít you want to talk about it?Ē
ďGo outside, get struck by lightning, I donít care. Get out.Ē
Touchdown. And then I ran it in for two: ďGot something against masturbation?Ē
ďGet out.Ē
I went and got my friend, we ran outside into the pouring rain wearing our pajamas, and we could see the bolts of lightning tearing the sky in half.
Hereís a riddle:
What makes you just as sweaty as masturbating, just as tired as masturbating, but doesnít feel as good?
Gym class!
I hate gym. Itís the most irritating goddamn thing thatís ever been invented. Thatís not true, towel heaters are fantastically irritating, but I donít have one, so I donít hate them. I do have gym.
First of all, there's the locker room. This is hell for people like me. I'm kind of shy, and when I'm in school, I feel like I'm being stalked by a ruthless pack of wolves. When I'm in the locker room, I feel like I'm naked and being stalked by a ruthless pack of wolves.
Then, once I get through that, I'm rewarded with a nice 7:45 AM game of flag football. And every single person playing wishes they were dead, except there's always one psycho who wishes everyone else were dead, so that he could have the ball to himself.
The entire time we played, I never once had possession of the football.
Well, at least gym isnít a required course, that would really suck. Oh wait.
I guess I donít like gym because Iím not very competitive. In elementary school, when we would watch those nature programs about deer, I used to get jealous of the male deer, because I knew that I would never be able to impress a female deer.
People say that itís a dog eat dog world, and Iím definitely not a dog. Iím more like a dog biscuit.
I canít even pee in public places. Itís not that Iím afraid to; I literally canít. When I went on the band trip to New York last year, I went for six hours having to pee and not being able to. It was because I couldnít pee on the bus.
In order to urinate at school, I have to convince myself that thereís no way that anyoneís going to come into the bathroom. Sometimes I like to imagine that thereís been a nuclear war, and Iím the last human on the planet, and that Iím in a port-a-potty thatís the only standing object in a desert of crushed skeletons.
Sometimes I hum little pee lullabies to myself.
Iím going to stop now, because although thereís a lot to be said for intellectual and artistic honesty, this is going a bit far.
*Max was suspended for this issue.*
Three Important Things to Think About
1. The thing I said about being jealous of male deer is true.
2. The pee lullaby part isnít true.
3. The second thing to think about isnít true.
*Rub your clitoris (most people use an up and down motion) with one or more of your fingers (most people use the pad of their middle finger). Do whatever the heck you want with your other hand. Donít put anything in your vagina that wasnít made for that purpose (your fingers were). If you really want to get professional about things:
www.clitical.com
