Just reach for it!

Good evening chumps and lesbians,

I’m sitting here ready to watch that episode of Letterman from yesterday where he convinces us that its ok that he shagged some staffer and then nearly got blackmailed. Um dude, you got caught and nearly got in a lot of trouble. Be grateful Captain Smartypants. We always knew you were bad news but still liked you anyway.

So I just came back from dinner with my platonic wife. Yeah, that’s what she probably is cuz I cant explain it. Here I am, some guy. Nice guy, good looking guy. I make friends with nice looking people. That are secretly or publicly as sick as I am. Fuck me raw with a microplane zester.

We go to the sex store known as the Pleasure Chest, one of Los Angeles’ most exciting/better sex shops. They got everything. Penis pumps, fuck chairs, paddles with skull faces on em. Even an electricity/rape kit thing for the kinkier (read: pathetic) people to mess with each other. Wow.

I’m walking aisle to aisle and there’s a girl. She’s got to be about 5’1. And close to 400 lbs. We are talking like, mountain shaped. And she’s standing there, staring at the vibrators. And I kinda was looking at some and then moved to the bongs and then went back to the section with the dvds of classic pornos and then looking at the whips and then I went back and there’s this little mountain, staring up at the vibrators. Is that what its like for all of us? Are we all just little short fat mountain people, looking up at the vibrators, wondering what it’d be like to actually get one?

Today I got yelled at for an hour and a half. My response is to reach for the pills. Problem: I have none. Call the pharmacy because I know I phoned them in. Erm…uh…they didn’t. Checked the other pharmacy. Errm, nuh-uh girlfriend. Jesus Hairy Christopher, what does a dude gotta do to get his xanny refilled?

I was pissed at first but then I realized that it’s a crutch. And I also started analyzing my day and week. What the hell isn’t a crutch? My life’s a crutch. My job, my clothes. My pathetic attempts at self-satisfaction in the shower. It’s like I’m a giant vat of fondue sitting there, waiting for a fire to be lit under me. I’m a mountain who doesn’t want to reach for that vibrator.

I feel like that’s what it’s all about. Once I have one area with some stability (read: female companion) I suddenly lose all grasp on others.

I look forward to hearing the rest of this story David Letterman’s telling about sleeping with his staff. It makes me feel like the vibrator of life is within reach if even he is fallable.