Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Mal De Wank

Man, I've been a slug this past month. This wasn't supposed to happen. My intention was to maintain the healthy momentum I established preparing for the Big Gay Cruise to launch me straight into pool season. I even took the extraordinary relationship step of mixing my socks with JB's in order to dedicate an entire drawer to my low-mileage swimwear collection.

The alternative was to smoosh all my cruise stuff in a Space Bag to stash in an IKEA storage bin. But then I daydreamed about unsealing my Parke & Ronen time capsule in the Spring of 2016. Overcome with nostalgia, I try on my skimpy, so-three-seasons-ago swimsuits and stand in the mirror. And I ask myself, "Was I really thin enough to wear this? What happened to me? How could I let myself go like this?"

Nope, I thought, snapping back to the present. Not gonna happen. I'm keeping these boys front and center next to my underpants.

But only days after returning from vacation I came down with bronchitis and a head cold. Then one morning a few weeks ago I got out of my spinning bed and fell over. Google suggested I had a rare neurological condition caused by spending too much time at sea. But when I further read that 97% of those suffering of Mal de Débarquement Syndrome are female, I knew I had to keep looking. (Me and my Münchausen's ain't got no time for a chick disease.)

StevieB said I probably acquired a parasite. Or a brain tumor. JB's diagnosis was "hangover". But my doctor said "upper respiratory infection". When I asked him about the dizziness, he said it was most likely my cold virus caused a minor inner ear infection. "Nothing to worry about, you'll live."

"You sure about that? Because Stevie and WebMD told me differently."

I felt better learning the medical term for my condition was "labyrinthitis". It sounded every bit as exotic as Mal de Débarquement Syndrome, but so much manlier. Like a Minotaur with jock-mange.

While my illnesses might explain my slug-like qualities of late, I'd be hard-pressed say it justifies the half-dozen boxes of Girl Scout cookies. Or the pint of Ben & Jerry's. Or coming straight home from work to lie on the sofa in front of the television until bedtime. Or the uptick in masturbation frequency.

And even that has been lazy and sluggish. I normally dedicate substantial amounts of planning, technique, paraphernalia and network bandwidth to my auto-erotic endeavors. But lately I can barely bother myself to lift the laptop lid. It's gotten so bad that these past few times I've just jerked off to the guy on the paper towel package.

In my defense though, he is pretty hot.






4 comments:

  1. A. Your excessive masturbation will work off the calories of those Girl Scout Cookies in now time.

    B. The Brawny guy is bought and paid for by the Koch brothers. Have a little more dignity - will ya?

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    1. A. That gives me an idea for exercise porn. We can call it "P69XXX". Please tell me it hasn't been done already.

      B. An audit of my nightstand drawer, DVD collection and browser history finds zero socially responsible spank material and an equal amount of dignity. But at least it's 99.9% legal. (For the record, the 0.1% was the result of a momentary furry-curiosity. I swear I hit control-Q the instant I realized it wasn't a guy in a donkey suit. I just wish I'd realized sooner.)

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    2. A. "we"? I'm good as long as I get a % of the profits.
      B. what IS 'socially responsible wank material' anyway? and do you REALLY wish you hand noticed sooner? do you??

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    3. The Brawny Guy kinda sorta bears a resemblance to Stevie.

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