Hurrah!

Months setting the board;
Shifting pieces into place.
Victory is mine.

bad luck

the problem I have with the ladies
is that they won't let me fill them up with babies

which is kinda not fair
cause gay men don't care
and after losing this bet,
though there'll surly be regret,

Late in life, I'll compensate with a Mercedes.

test

this is just a test
just a test, though i confess
here's one more contest.

The wiener is...

21.


Jeff and I have talked about a couple different new contests. Perhaps most in one day? That's something I think this group might actually have the focus to do. Or even just a better motivated contest 2. I think we owe it to ourselves. Also, my porn's so lonely now.

conclusions?

well, i think we can all agree the second contest was a little less structured than the first one. there was a lot of confusion for some reason, even though 4 out of 5 of us were in the same room when we decided on start times/regulations. evan- i think we decided that any conscious release is to be included in the final total because that was the opposite of contest 1, so add any hook-ups and etc. and that's your total. my final count was 16. i make no excuses (even though i shared my bed (non-sexually) for the last 2 nights of the contest). so the contest for me effectively ended on friday morning. no excuses! although as a side note, i lost the contest *twice* in the afternoon immediately following the end of contest 2. just goes to show you nothing's fun when you have to do it. ahh, well- talk to you bitches soon. and let's see some final numbers.

In Recap

Alright, my final numbers are pretty poor. Let me say this however. I started almost three full days late, you all know this. Also, and I don't have a great excuse for this one, I stopped three days early. I was kind of busy and on top of that I had the drunkest weekend ever. Also, I got laid a lot, and I'm assuming that doesn't count, so, whatever. I know this doesn't matter, sticking it out was half the battle. I'm sure everyone put up good numbers over short periods of time here and there.

I only competed from Tuesday night through Thursday night. I imagine it was something like 54 hours in total. During those 2 days, I masturbated 13 times. I'm pretty proud of that. The late start hurt, and so did 13 sessions in 2 days. That hurt a lot. Either way, I'm feeling pretty good about myself and that accomplishment. I was upset to find that no one had really posted their conclusions and results. Either that has been some other forum for that, the contest is still going (once again unbeknownst to me), or you guys need to get on that.

Let Down

I would like to take a minute to congratualate Mr. Tom Kondilas. He deserves it. No excuses, he is the victor. Congratulations you filthy fucking pervert. Go put on some sweatpants.

I would like to add that we went about this contest all wrong. Mr. Kondilas averaged only 3x a day. That is somewhat normal (high-end of normal). Very doable. I think pushing ourselves to the limit like we did is a bit like sprinting at the start of a marathon. Although I respect Mr. Kondilas's numbers, they are by no means unrealistic for any one of us. Not play hard, stay smart - but - play smart, stay hard.

So we are now at a crossroads with the contest blog. We could continue the masturbation thing with something like masturbation bingo cards, but to be honest I'd prefer we move on to bigger and brighter things. Any ideas?

Jesus save me...

I want to say, here and now, that I have really tried. My lacklustre performance in this contest has nothing to do with a lack of effort or an untrained muscle, and everything to do with the current insanity of my schedule.

I am tired, people. Tom White said it best, and I am in complete agreement with him. If I had time to engage in the act encouraged by this contest, I would be sleeping. Unfortunately, however, I do not even have time for that lately. Every day when I get home from work, I attempt to envision satin sheets and supine celebrities, but all I am left with is a flaccid reminder of the long day I've had.

In short, I ask you not to lose respect for me, friends. I am a man with no time, and I am more apt to blow it while sleeping than I am to do so as a result of real effort.

Side Note: Halloween costume? I'm thinking Sydney Poitier.

Remember Sammy Jenkis

This is best contest ever. I feel like an athlete. I'm not sure why everybody's turning into a sissy about it. I feel that if I can lose the contest by myself, when I am unmotivated to do it, my prowess in the bedroom will be unmatched. You better recognize I'm a P-i-m-p, you better recognize.

Even Futurama was more optimistic about this type of thing. I quote Zach Branagan "The spirit is willing but the flesh is spongy bruised." Til it bleeds.

Jeff, I'd like to tell you my progress at this point but I'm afraid things might get weird during the Hour That Time Forgot. Alls I'm saying is that I don't want this to turn into an X-Files episode because people are threatened by my total which is sure to have already clinched victory.

[I had to take a break to lose the contest]

And for all of certain people's complaining about getting a late start and what not, I'd like to point out, regardless of who wins the contest, I took all of Wednesday off because I was working like 18 hours of that day. Also, I'm stuck at my parents' house.

If I was David Pearl, I would have a hard-hat on 16 hours a day. Do any of you get that?

I wrote that

It seems a Kondilas has once again tried to steal my glorious words....

Evan, it was TW who wrote the "pack of cigarettes" entry. TW. TK and myself both post using the name "Tom", and I know neither one of us will change. A good rule of thumb should be, if the post uses words with more than three syllables, it's probably TK. If it is really fantastic and gives you a boner, it's probably TW.

Side note - do we get double points for 'losing the contest' while Hotel Rwanda is on? I think we should - and it should be retroactive.

This contest has made me feel like a monkey. A monkey anticipating a gold medal going around his neck.

Love and Peach Rings,
TW

What Makes a Man?

I've been toying with the idea of "slow-betting" this contest by not letting you guys know how I'm doing. The plan has been to take advantage of my monumentally late start so that I could hopefully slip under the radar and be the Cinderella Story that takes home the gold. Alas, I am not strong enough to do this. Win or lose, I need some validation right now, and you seem the only group of people with whom I can share the epic achievements I've been making these last couple days. Without a doubt, this is far worse than the previous contest. I can't emphasize enough how accurate TK's "pack of cigarettes" analogy was. This is F-ing miserable.

For a change of pace, here is a light-hearted story recounting an experience I had today. If you're pressed for time, by all means stop reading now.

I had to get some bloodwork done today (the good Lord chose to bless me with a faulty liver). Between previous bouts with this ordeal, donating blood and the like, I really have no fear of needles and such this days. It's been years since blood drawing has left me even remotely nervous, but I still generally heed the advice of turning my head away. I've made the occasional glance, nothing big, and often times they cover it up anyway. Today I decided that there'd be no problem watching the entire procedure. The bitch rolled up my sleeve, tied the doohickey around my bicep, and immediately commented, "nice veins," to which I of course replied, "that's what they tell me." She pulled out her needle and stuck one of the two nice veins that even Helen Keller would have found. My first response was that maybe looking was a bad idea because, for some reason, it already hurt more than usual. Whatever, I'm tough, I played ball. She attached the first tube and hit the valve which should have resulted in the container filling up pretty quickly. The actual result... was intense pain... no blood flow. After waiting for a moment (as if my blood were simply playing a game with her stupid ass) my forearm took it upon itself to shoot the needle out, and spitefully include a geyser of blood. Thanks forearm. She recollected herself and then prepared another needle for the other superhighway of a vein, explaining "It popped out." I tried to act interested as if she had just taught me something, then applied more pressure to the gauze pad because my fingers were getting wet. So, to be sure she got the next one right (instead of lodging a hollow metal spike into my ulna) she went SLOW. Ten careful minutes later, she had a cum shot worth of blood. Congratulations. She said I was done and to go to the check-out. When I stood up I thought to myself, "Man, stood up too fast, a little light headed." As I walked toward the desk across the hall, I realized I was stumbling a startling amount. I threw all my weight onto the table in front of the secretary so as not to fall on the lobby floor. As I leaned there for awhile, I couldn't help but notice that my vision was blurring a good deal. Only when she said to me, "Sir, if you're ready, I'll take that slip now," did I realize that she'd been holding her hand out for quite some time. I can't think of a sincere enough way to express that I couldn't see all that happening, so I thrust my papers into the direction of the voice. A minute went by and she told me I was all set. Another minute or two went by and she said, "Sir, you can leave now." Little did she know that I was insisting on leaning against that table until I could figure out, at the very least, what color her skin was. I'm not racist, I just figured that if I couldn't decipher her skin color, I probably had no business walking around the place. The search for the car and the journey home were also eventful, but this has gone long enough, and I feel the story has already peaked. In closing, I'd like to add that, as far as this contest goes, it's a good thing I'm a switch-hitter.