Obstacle Report (bitches)

Day 22 and I'm feeling the burn. People around me have have begun to notice a change in my ability to tolerate things. I've been described as surly, crazy, irritable, floggish (I don't know this one), and bitchy. In response, all I really have to say is: Go play a game of hide'n'fuck yourself, all of you.

Ok, I feel like that needed to be said.

So, the next section of this post is going to be devoted to specific obstacles to my victory (victory being a synonym for blue balls, look it up, I'll wait...hmm, hmm, hm-hm, hmmm...ok good, see what I mean?)

Obstacle 1: Camel toes. Until recently I thought women who let their cotton/lycra/satin/yoga pants whatever ride up into their playscape only existed in significant abundance on the interweb on porn sites like Mr. Chew's Asian Beaver, Mr. Camel Toe, and my favorite - I Spy Camel Toe, with an occasional special appearance of the vaginus dromidarius on sites like Money Talks and the Brazzers Network. Since about day 15, I have noticed more cloth tunnels in female pubic areas than I ever thought possible. Any other time in my life I would just be pulling out my iPhone (the camera phone of choice for invading innocent girls' privacy while in public) and snapping off a couple photos for later. Not this time, though. And that is why I'm giving Camel Toes my Poo Fling of the week. Fuck you Camel Toes, I hate that I love you.

Obstacle 2: Stories about Charlie Sheen. The guy has been in the "news" every day for like the last two months for having coke-fueled pornstar/hooker orgy beating binges. The mongoloids over at the network that thinks he's funny on that comedy abortion, Two and Half Men, had been just tolerating his rich guy-I'm a bad boy that bangs chicks if they look like they might have a coke addiction habit antics. Really all this did was make certain that every skank and incredible piece of ass he locked in a closet beat up shot banged was guaranteed to be plastered all over the internet. He's killing me. Here is a short list of the chicks associated with this jack-tard: Kacey Jordan (he banged her)NSFW, Bree Olson (banged her in an orgy) NSFW, Melanie Rios (banged her with a suitcase full of cocaine) NSFW, Denise Richards (banged her so hard children fell out) NSFW, Some random actresses (his character banged them on the show, he probably offered to bang them and when they said “um…” he probably banged them twice in the face, cockwise) Harmless. Fuck this ass-hatted cock-fag.

Obstacle 3: Lea Michelle. I used to just think she was really cute, and then she did that photo shoot for GQ magazine. Then I realized that she needs to be banged, banged hard, banged often, banged until flames shoot out her ass. She is the most dangerous of the obstacles listed here because of how ubiquitous her image is, and she'll be singing America the Beautiful at the Superbowl. Great. BTW I dare you not to look at her crotch.


Obstacle 4: Sushi. Ok, this one was totally my fault. I was out with a friend and 15 other people celebrating her birthday at a sushi joint. I was sitting next to this girl and we were getting ready to split some sushi. She picked a salmon roll. A fucking salmon roll. I wanted something a little more adventurous than that shit, so I drew an analogy (a talent of mine) between the sushi and sexual positions. "Salmon roll," I said, "is like missionary sex." "The Symphony Roll," (a combination of fucking every fish you can safely eat raw) I said, "was like reverse cowgirl." She said she didn't like that so much (80-days-in-the-future me will have to thank miserable-at-20-days me for collecting that information), so I urged her toward the raw quail egg. "This," I said, "is like surprise public sex. The mood strikes, you find a nice hidden spot, handle business pelvicly, and back to the party you go." She liked that. I, however, found it necessary to walk off the crotchal pleat problem I had developed. (Great Odin's raven) Who would ever have thought raw fish would be such a turn on. Asians probably. Yeah, Asians. Weird.

Well, that about wraps it up for today. 22 and counting. I really should figure out when 100 days will be so I can properly lock myself in a room and crank the happy lever until I get callouses. Keep an eye out for more obstacles. There are several more that I have already identified, but you fags don't get to have all of them right now, so chill the fuck out.

Danny Hammer signing off.

Navigating the Jungle

Well, it’s 19 days into the challenge and I’m beginning to see things that could easily become serious obstacles. There are, of course, the obvious threats to abstaining from flogging one’s dolphin: 1) Porn, 2) pictures of women in bikinis, 3) porn, 4) pleasant memories of intercourse past, 5) porn, 6) college girls who just cannot anticipate the capricious nature of Floridian winter weather, and 7) raw whole chickens at the wishbone end. Yes, I said chickens.

1) I have never been modest about the fact that I enjoy a good man on girl video, girl on girl video, two girls on a man, two men on a girl, three girls on eachother, three guys on one girl (Traci Lords, “I’m drunk on cock”), three girls on one guy, two girls on each other but only after a “wrestling match” the winner of which gets to strap on a rubber cock and violate the loser, night club gang bangs, girls having blowjob competitions, or just an artfully graphic single girl masturbating by herself while a film crew watches. As I describe this first, and most ubiquitous (that means it’s everywhere, Richard), obstacle, I am forced to walk away from the keyboard to do some pushups situps (pushups were a poor choice given certain turgid conditions) because I gave myself a stiffy by thinking about porn. I never would have thought that my best friend since purchasing my own personal computer would betray me so. Et tu pornae?

2) That brings me to the next of the obvious barriers to blue balls, pictures of women in bikinis. All I can say is thank goodness that winter in Florida (a mere 70 degrees in the midday sun) causes the girls down here to cover up and wear clothes that would be too warm for sweater weather in the Northeast. When you’re not trying to add ammo to your spank bank you would be surprised how often one is confronted with excessively sexual images. It’s not right. Well, under any other circumstances it would be just fine, let's be honest.

3) Back to porn: Costume party gang bangs, sex teacher videos, Hot G vibe videos (only the ones with Vandl Vyxen, oh Vandal Vyxen), workout sex videos, public sex, strange sex for money videos, anime porn, celebrity sex tapes…

4) Memories have always been problematic for me in general. I really cannot tell you the last time I was able to hold a really good memory in my head without letting it run until the good turned to bad. In the case of the No-Nut-Challenge, it’s sort of the opposite, well, not opposite, let me explain, Richard. So usually, I think of the sex with a girl from my past and then how I let them down, outside of the bedroom. In the last few days it’s been exactly the opposite. Take for example Lisa (the girl who was the impetus for creating “The Screendoor Kitten,” but that’s for another post). She was very supportive, and I for whatever reason was terrified of the relationship that was developing. Usually the guy in the control room in my head plays the film in this order: She was ready for sex, 69, doggy, Screendoor Kitten, big finish, which leads to all I had to say was yes. The bastard homunculus in the control room re-spliced the movie so that now it goes: Relationship fail, right to 69 and big finish; and he did the same thing for Hannah, Jenny, Leanne, Janine, Annie, and Laticia (I’m sure there were other girls I dissapointed, but I tend to limit my memories to the girls who gave me the best spunk draining).

5) And porn: Two girls one cup (leave me alone), My Sister’s Hot Friend, Bangbus, Dancing Bear, Super Chicken.com, Caligula, Zazzel: The Scent of Love, Cinemax’s Coed Confidential, MyFreeCams.com (I smell sponsor!), and the hottest poker player on the web, Ivy Snow (tattoos and a vagina she loves to show on camera, hang on, I need a situp break…

Ok, I’m good.)

6) I mean as far as girls in skimpy clothes go, the temperature differential from warm afternoon to surprisingly chilly night makes the college girls nipples pop like the timer on a store-bought Thanksgiving turkey. Nuff said.

7) Chickens are awesome. Who hasn’t thought about letting his trouser snake pop the wishbone out of a nice, warm broiler/roaster? Yeah, me neither.

Aside from more food references appearing in one post than I had ever intended, the above outline of the obvious obstacles to 2,400 hours of semen buildup has left the not so obvious ones for posts to come. Having had a pretty serious chicken choking addiction since I was 13, I have never really explored life without turning the happy crank in my pants for any longer than could be measured in hours (sometimes minutes), forget about days. I have had such a heightened experience of interacting with the fairer sex since day 5, that doing this whole days-between-skeeting thing might be worth doing on regular basis. Then again, how does that cliche go? Sex is like air, it’s only really important if you’re not getting any. Stupid saying. My qi is going to be PHENOMENAL. This is going to turn out to be totally worth it. ugh.

Preview of posts to come: How will I deal with wet dreams? What if a strange girl offers to blow me? Will my friends help me or try to fuck this grand experiment up (Christine)? Keep checking back to find out.

Danny Hammer signing off.

Monkey, Spanking, get it?

So, welcome to the Happy Monkey. If you read the title and you're reading this now you may have some idea what I'm talking about. If not, then you're either a monkey enthusiast or someone who thinks a hundred days without a spanking is a good thing and this is certainly not the place for you, freak.

Here's the deal: I was once a very dedicated student of Kung Fu in a far off place called Philadelphia, the "ph" is pronounced like an "f," (it took me a while to get that right, too, so don't feel bad about yourself). While studying this ancient art, my grandmaster, Sigung, would visit our school occasionally and offer the students tidbits of information about how to increase our qi. One he says to us "Women are bad for qi. When you (at this point he moved his hands limply in the vicinity of his cock) with a woman, it's bad for your qi." Intrigued, we all listened intently. "If you go 100 days without (limp hand movement), then your qi will be..." as he made a fist and held it up, shaking it. So my buddy John pipes right up and says "but you can (limp hand movement) by yourself, right?" Sigung looked at him with more disappointment than I've ever seen on a Chinese man's face and said, "No" and walked away. The lesson was over.

I've tried lots of the exercises that Sigung recommended and the results ranged from pain to diarrhea, but I never gave the 100 day challenge much thought, that is until this winter. At the moment I have no girlfriend, no willing partner for intercourse, and no prospects. Since I have never idolized Ben Roethlisberger enough to follow college girls into bathrooms and "wrestle" with them, I figured now would be as good a time as any to embark on a a strange metaphorical journey involving me not traveling anywhere. Instead, my quest will be to navigate the sands of time, one day at a time, never busting a nut for 100 days, hence the title of this blog: The Happy Monkey: 100 Days without a Spanking.

My plan is not to report every day in the 100, but rather to post when interesting things happen to me (that are relevant to the overabundance of semen that will develop in my crotchal region). To add to my motivation, a friend (really a well-wisher, insofar as he does not wish any specific harm on me), who we shall call "Sunshine," has challenged me to go the full 100 days. Should I cross that finish line without spilling my man-seed, I will have earned a bottle of the finest $10 whiskey in the state of Florida.I look forward to the hangover I will certainly suffer from drinking such fine spirits!

And now as this inaugural post draws to a close, I give you my count: 17 days without a male orgasm (note: It would be 27 days, but I lost the will to not crank one, well three, out so I had to start over).

This is Danny Hammer signing off.

P.S. This may be the hardest thing I have ever done and I'm not sure what that says about me.