The next few days, I’m going to be super glad that I invested in central air. The whole of southern California is under ‘extreme heat advisory’ and that always means lots of grass, brush, and forest fires springing up. Heat always gets me a bit randy, too. I’ve just skated past the 100 days mark of my “No Sex Challenge” and everywhere I look I’m seeing things. Things that make me curl my toes.

I figure, oh video games, you’ll make things better. Wrong. I’m playing Dragon Age: Origins, and I’m chatting up the would-be assassin and there are several options to say flirty things back to him and the next thing I know I’m being treated to a soft-porn montage of dwarf on elf homo-sex inside a tent! I’m not kidding. If you’re playing this, keep it up and you’ll be throwing elfin ankles up around your neck and sliding in between is ass cheeks, holding him from behind, and showering him with kisses! Now, as with all your characters who adventure with you can either get a positive or negative score – I just did +16 points of boingy boingy for dwaven/elvish relations. What’s weirder still, is that Wynne, the resident old female wizard, had a +1 to her like score of me after the dirty was done. What was she doing, spying outside the tent!? Not that I mind an audience, but, whatever…

I’m actually enjoying masturbation again, which I’m taking as a good sign. I just hope I can keep it to myself, so to speak.

I’ve just got rid of my Facebook account, which I’ve decided is a giant waste of time. I don’t need to be on there. At all. Period. For the small amounts of good it does, there is so much dreck you have to wade through and I’m not about to get into picking the corn out of piles of shit, so… it’s gone. I’m here and you’ll come back if you have more than two brain cells to rub together instead of signing on to that big, hollow box, yelling into it and signing out again.

Speaking of which, just fiddling with some ideas to make this site expandable and easy to update and it needs a fresh coat of paint. It’s the first major thing I’ve felt excited about in some time and this site is stale (over 5 years old), so that’s something. Some oooh-n-aaah flash stuff and well, we’ll see where it goes from here. I’m not going to do any new artwork for anybody for awhile as well. Sorry, that’s just how it’s going to be. I can’t be arsed.

And, I’m going to meet with a doctor on Friday and discuss seeing a shrink or somebody to talk me down off the proverbial ledge I’m on. During a conversation today, I thought I was going to either have an aneurysm or heart attack because of repeated amounts of stupidity, which was then compounded by my favorite phrase I love hearing “Tell us how you really feel!”  Not for nothing, if I’m expressing myself, don’t say that. Ever. It’s condescending, douchey, rude and I’m liable to make your face look like bloody hamburger, ok? As a side note, it’s probably not a good thing to mutter if you’re already walking on thin ice with me anyways.

Still not having sex. Halfway through masturbating, I give up. What’s the point if it’s hurting my arm? So, I roll over and look for the cool area of the sheets.

This hedonist loves to play. My 5 senses are my religion and I’m a very passionate person.

For what it’s worth, I’ve made a bet with myself to remain celibate for the next year. This means nothing past 2nd base for me so I can get my priorities sorted. I don’t see it like some who might try to quit smoking, but more like a study in human nature as I don’t see myself as being addicted to the act, instead more like a science experiment complete with taking notes on what makes me a stronger person and what really nearly makes me break. I’m on week 7 of my sexy-strike of self-discovery. It will be blogged about.

I’ve had some interesting reactions to declining sex so far which range from “Yeah, right.” to “What? That’s bizarre and you’ve lost your damned mind.” to “If you change your mind, you have my phone number.” Even more curious are those that see this as a challenge to their own libidinous natures, ie. How can I get you to (show me your) crack? So far, I’ve not had to push anyone away physically, as we all know I tend to go a bit melty when certain somebodies makes me look at them right in the eyes and get all forcefully grabby and breathy, so if I wiggle away, look away or don’t make eye contact with you, don’t take it personally… or, perhaps, do? Thankfully, most of the enticing offers/challenges have come from the online community and have been much farther away than a 10 minute car ride. Some of you are quickly making it on a list of people I am not to be left alone with should two or more of you collude and gang up on me deciding to play “Let’s Tempt the Lusty Priest of Perv”. You will be ex-communicated if I should fall from grace and you will be labelled forevermore – Lucifer’s Slippery Bell-End. I’ve already nearly chewed the edge of my desk off twice like a Tex Avery cartoon, so stop sending me pictures of your beautifully sculpted pecker, pucker, or bedroom eyes. I don’t even want to see your feet. You are making this very, very, gulp, hard.

Don’t think I can do it? Well, I’ve already cut out television from my routine. The prohibitive AT&T U-Verse bill certainly nudged me out of my lame-brained habit of plopping down on the couch and watching shows I absolutely detest. I’m actually amazed at how much television I don’t watch now, outside of a NOVA special or something on PBS.

The main reason I want to push myself in this manner is to scientifically see if this has a bearing on my level of creativity. In this past year, and it’s not a lie or a boast, I’ve had a LOT of sex (most of it terrible!) and I’ve created absolutely ZERO new artwork or finished any pieces I’ve started. Horrifying. And if we follow out this mathematical sexual equation: the greater the amount of sex, the lesser amount of creativity and time devoted to being arty. And if the correlation is correct, then I can also do it with the news, politics, and the devil a lot of us know – Facebook. Which, if we extrapolate this puppy out, more time for cooking, yard work, etc. and incidentally, more money in my pocket.

Things that are excluded are masturbation by myself, kissing (oh! the gateway drug! …but I will allow it. Just don’t be upset if I throw you to the floor yelling, “Get out! Get out! Foul demon, get out!”), sexy chit-chat and sex toys.

Things that are included: Anything past 2nd base with another person in the room, touching under the clothing, engaging in any kinky horseplay (bondage, wearing rubber, getting into jlube fights, et. al.) with one or more people, and hanging out with another person with the purpose of doing the nasty. This means, do not grab my wang or thrust your hand down the back of my jeans to “poke the kitty”.

This means no ComiCon for me as it’s sensory overload. I can just see that if somebody clever enough, seductively loquacious enough, with the devil in their eyes decided to speak a few well-placed, sweet somethings in my ear or along the nape of my neck, I’d be a goner on my knees in your hotel room praising all that is holy before me or perhaps in less nicer, less clean facilities. And I don’t need any of you thinking it’s funny and ganging up on me there, chasing me through the convention center in some sort of psycho-sexual Night of the Living Dead yelling, “We’re coming to get you, Barbara!” because some of you geeks are way too hot and that’s playing with fire. I’ll stay home with my green tea and my ice cream, thank you very much. I’m deadly serious.

All that said, there are some key things I am setting as goals that I must accomplish in this long, dry year. The obvious one is doing artwork again. The second one is joining a gym and tearing up this slight frame to be reborn as something better, stronger, and something worth whistling at. I don’t want to ring in year 37 with a spare tire any more than I want to approach 40 (good grief!) farther down the hill than I anticipated. “The body is a temple”, or so they say. Third, I believe I have the mental fortitude and doing is proving.

See you around Memorial Day.