Winter and Masturbation...They Both Grow Old

cheers chuckleheads!!

Did that greeting sound, or read, like I forced it?

Well it should.

Poor ol’ Matty Boy is under the weather emotionally…Literally.  I have had enough of winter…especially this winter.

This winter drags on and on without significant snowfall or arctic temps.  It continues to be merely a quasi-cold, dreary, and gray winter, and yet clings to and tortures my soul and good nature like grim death.

And?  It somewhat mirrors where my life is right now, especially as to where my lack of sex life is concerned.

Listen…My BFF/OSP, and compadre Schmoop got very sick back in October.  And while her illness is no longer life-threatening, she had major surgery and still has an obnoxious tube jutting from her stomach.

It’s been five months and will be at least six months when all is said and done before I can once again touch her in the biblical sense.

And that’s predicated on the fact she’ll once again allow me to “touch her!!”  Which?  Always remains in question once she is free from her bile duct tube bondage.

Anyhoo…

With the lovely Schmoop sexually incapacitated over lo these many winter months, I have had to seek an alternative method of sexual fulfillment, namely, masturbation.  And you know what?

It’s just not doing it for me anymore.  It’s kinda like how I feel about winter itself.

I LOVE summer, but I still in my advanced years, get excited about the first snowfall.  It’s all pure, clean, and pretty, and then…after a few, long, turgid months of the alabaster shit, I am ready for the grass to once again grow green.

It’s been the same way about masturbating these past few months with Schmoop on injured reserve.  Sure the first few times were pretty cool, because I was envisioning dorking Tyra Banks, Kate Upton, and Jon Meachem, but lately?

As the winter grows long, so do the cramps in my hand and the callouses upon my penis, and my thoughts have turned to cheap and tawdry masturbation.

Due to the dreariness of this Ohio winter, in the morning when I awake and see yet another gray and melancholy sky…I touch myself and think of dirty, unwashed chicks like, Kristen Stewart and Amy Winehouse.

It’s just…not…right.  Especially the Amy Winehouse thing because she’s dead and it’s like I’m participating in some kind of Haitian necrophilia masturbation, voodoo ceremony.

Ick…

I long for Spring and its verdant and awe-inspiring colors, because if Schmoop still has the tube in her, I can at least jack-off in a better and more hopeful mood, and envision myself having a three-way with Kate Upton and Tyra Banks.

That would be nice.

So…During this Lenten Season, could you all say a prayer for me?  I have given up Rose.  I have given up Steel Reserve, and by de facto dictate I have given up sex, because, listen….

My hand is tired of me; I am tired of my hand, and Schmoop’s tube isn't coming out for another few weeks. So...help a brutha out and pray for me.  Aight?

Cheers!!

Matt-Man

mattmaniws@ymail.com
@mattman_iws

Annnnnnd, if you missed Jayman and I yesterday LIVE on Blog Talk Radio, you can catch us in the archives. We talked Chuck Hagel, Seth MacFarlane, the Oscars, and cunts!!  It was awesome!!