Baltimore
14 May 2003


Today I was driving home from work and I got this insane itch on the inside of my left thigh. I tried to scratch it through my pants but it just wasn't working. So I unzipped my pants and got my fingernails directly on my skin. It was heavenly. While scratching, I glance to my left and see this big truck in the lane next to me, with the redneck in the passenger seat totally ogling me. He saw me see him and he gave me this knowing grin. I was so confused. Then I looked down at my hand in my pants and realized that it totally looked like I was, um, treating my body like an amusment park (tm Mrs. Costanza). Wow did I feel stupid. I yanked my hand out of my pants and thanked my stars that my exit was coming up. That's the problem with big trucks. They sit so much higher than my little car that people in them can see everything. Oh well. At least I gave him a good story to tell his buddies.

Speaking of masturbation, that reminds me of my friend Brian. Brian and I have such a weird love/hate relationship. Except there is no love. When we were in college, I'm thinking freshman or sophomore year, a few of us were sitting around drinking and the conversation somehow turned to masturbation. Brian told all of us that he masturbates four out of seven days. During that time in his life Brian was very moody. Well, he's still moody, though he has mellowed. Plus now he lives on the other side of the country so I only see him one weekend a year and that's not enough time for him to be really moody. Anyway. During that time Brian was in a really pissy mood about 50% of the time and in a good mood about 50% of the time. And the moods were without rhyme or reason. Like this one time we were going to go to the ESPN Zone but I forgot my ID and they wouldn't let me in and I thought he was going to punch me. But another time we went to buy a Christmas tree and we had this total jackass of a salesperson who totally pissed me off, but Brian just joked and smiled. It was creepy. So, what does this have to do with masturbation? When Brian was in a good mood my friends and I would say, "Today must be a four!" and when he was in a horrible mood we would look at him and just sigh and say, "Oh Brian. It's a three." Meaning of course that Brian was in a good mood on the days that he had jerked off and in a bad mood on days when he didn't. He never knew what we were talking about, or, if he did, he never let on. It was good times.

Did I really just write an entire entry about masturbation?



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