Rubbing Myself the Wrong Way
Rubbing Myself the Wrong Way
By Tom Sunnergren
Feb. 15th, 2005
Wow, thank God Valentine's Day is over. So many great memories of Valentines Day's past: crying into my pillow, making out with fat chicks, whacking off to the scene in Resident Evil where you almost see that girls bush, and waiting till a hot chick is too drunk to yell for help, then taking her into a bathroom and…I mean rollerblading.
I no longer have any confidence in my ability to attract women. I was watching E! the other day and a show came on that was about girls Justin Timberlake’s boned (note: I don’t watch E! because I’m gay, I watch it because I’m lame). Apparently, he’s boned Alyssa Milano, Britney Spears, Janet Jackson, and Cameron Diaz. This depressed me not because I’m jealous of him, it’s that too, but because in him I saw what man is capable of, and how far short I’ve fallen. It was like that scene in Vision Quest where the janitor tells Mathew Modine how watching Pele brought tears to his eyes because he saw the greatness a human being can achieve.
My jealousy doesn’t stem from the fact that Timberlake gets to date beautiful women while I sleep with gargoyles (my roommate calls me Van Helsing, because I “hunt monsters at night”), but because it has occurred to me that I can’t even jerk off to girls that are that hot. I have so little confidence with the opposite sex that I can no longer even imagine sleeping with beautiful women; I have to masturbate to average women. It’s not that I’m not attracted to beautiful women, it’s that I can’t fathom any series of events that would ever again lead to me sleeping with a woman that would be considered attractive, and I’ve tried… hard (technically I’ve tried soft, zing). Not being able to sleep with good looking chicks sucks, but not even being able to imagine sleeping with good looking chicks is worse than Troy. If I try to rub one out to a Playboy I can’t trick my penis into believing that it’s possible. I’m imagining scenarios and he’s like, “come on, be realistic”. The same thing Dad said when I told him I wanted to go to college.
For the last three weeks I’ve been jerking off to yearbook photos of girls I thought I was cooler than in high school. I used to jerk off to pictures of girls I thought were cooler than me in high school. This is a disturbing trend. Using basic statistical theory and outdated Kirstie Alley jokes, I’ve made a regression model that predicts my future jerk off material.
9/14/04: Jerk off to photos of Kirstie Alley from when she was in Cheers
1/02/05: Jerk off to photos of Kirstie Alley from when she was in Look Who’s Talking Now
3/18/05: Jerk off to photos of Kirstie Alley promoting her new reality series Fat Actress
Things look pretty bleak, but there is still hope for the future. Before I go out on “Prey on Lonely Girls” Day I’ll visualize the great achievements of my life, everything from making the JV football team to convincing that girl that I wasn’t the one who got her pregnant, in hopes of bolstering my confidence enough to make eye contact with a girl. When this fails, I’ll go home and jerk off to a photograph of Kelly Osborne.
By Tom Sunnergren
Feb. 15th, 2005
Wow, thank God Valentine's Day is over. So many great memories of Valentines Day's past: crying into my pillow, making out with fat chicks, whacking off to the scene in Resident Evil where you almost see that girls bush, and waiting till a hot chick is too drunk to yell for help, then taking her into a bathroom and…I mean rollerblading.
I no longer have any confidence in my ability to attract women. I was watching E! the other day and a show came on that was about girls Justin Timberlake’s boned (note: I don’t watch E! because I’m gay, I watch it because I’m lame). Apparently, he’s boned Alyssa Milano, Britney Spears, Janet Jackson, and Cameron Diaz. This depressed me not because I’m jealous of him, it’s that too, but because in him I saw what man is capable of, and how far short I’ve fallen. It was like that scene in Vision Quest where the janitor tells Mathew Modine how watching Pele brought tears to his eyes because he saw the greatness a human being can achieve.
My jealousy doesn’t stem from the fact that Timberlake gets to date beautiful women while I sleep with gargoyles (my roommate calls me Van Helsing, because I “hunt monsters at night”), but because it has occurred to me that I can’t even jerk off to girls that are that hot. I have so little confidence with the opposite sex that I can no longer even imagine sleeping with beautiful women; I have to masturbate to average women. It’s not that I’m not attracted to beautiful women, it’s that I can’t fathom any series of events that would ever again lead to me sleeping with a woman that would be considered attractive, and I’ve tried… hard (technically I’ve tried soft, zing). Not being able to sleep with good looking chicks sucks, but not even being able to imagine sleeping with good looking chicks is worse than Troy. If I try to rub one out to a Playboy I can’t trick my penis into believing that it’s possible. I’m imagining scenarios and he’s like, “come on, be realistic”. The same thing Dad said when I told him I wanted to go to college.
For the last three weeks I’ve been jerking off to yearbook photos of girls I thought I was cooler than in high school. I used to jerk off to pictures of girls I thought were cooler than me in high school. This is a disturbing trend. Using basic statistical theory and outdated Kirstie Alley jokes, I’ve made a regression model that predicts my future jerk off material.
9/14/04: Jerk off to photos of Kirstie Alley from when she was in Cheers
1/02/05: Jerk off to photos of Kirstie Alley from when she was in Look Who’s Talking Now
3/18/05: Jerk off to photos of Kirstie Alley promoting her new reality series Fat Actress
Things look pretty bleak, but there is still hope for the future. Before I go out on “Prey on Lonely Girls” Day I’ll visualize the great achievements of my life, everything from making the JV football team to convincing that girl that I wasn’t the one who got her pregnant, in hopes of bolstering my confidence enough to make eye contact with a girl. When this fails, I’ll go home and jerk off to a photograph of Kelly Osborne.