Haley Paige in happier, boner-ier timesWARNING! THE FOLLOWING POST DEPICTS A FRANK AND GRAPHIC DISCUSSION ON THE SIN OF SELF-ABUSE. PLEASE, THOSE READERS WITH ANY FORM OF MORALS OR CONSCIENCE DO NOT READ THIS ENTRY. THIS IS NOT A TEASE TO ACTUALLY GET YOU TO READ THE POST, SO PLEASE, IF YOU ARE EASILY OFFENDED OR NOT EVER OFFENDED BY ANYTHING DO NOT READ THE FOLLOWING POST!
Jesus Christ, Eric. Another fucking entry dealing with you jerking off? All you ever talk about is jerking off. Why didn't you name your blog the Jerk Off Blog instead of that gay shit you chose? Well, guess what dickfarts, I wanted to call my blog the Jerk Off Blog, but that name was taken like a seat on Forrest Gump's school bus. Besides, today's entry is not entirely about jerking off. In fact, jerking off doesn't really have anything to do with what I am about to say. Wait...yes, it does. But only in an indirect way. You see, dear readers, this entry today is about the short, sad life of Maryam Irene Haley, AKA, Haley Paige. Ms. Paige was an adult film actress who died of a possible methadone overdose in 2007 at the age of 25. Let me provide you with a little back story, as well as informing some of my female readers about the kind of sexual deviants their male partners are. How many of you ladies have heard of the term 'spank bank?' Well, if you have not, allow me to fill you in. Every guy has a spank bank, and puts it to use maybe once or twice a day. A spank bank is a mental catalogue of sexually appealing women, scenarios, images, etc. Anything that a guy might think of as sexy. Once a guy sees something that arouses him, he immediately locks the image up in his spank bank. A spank bank is accessed by a guy when he really wants to jerk off, but does not have any visual aides, i.e. Internet porn. A perfect example is if a guy is taking a shower, or rubbing one out in a bathroom stall at work, he will call to mind from his spank bank a certain image to help him along in the process. Think of a dude's spank bank as that little paperclip that helps you write letters in Microsoft Word. Now, the deposits in a spank bank are usually, girlfriends, wives, other guys' girlfriends, other guys' wives, other guys' sisters or moms, friends of your mom, attractive first cousins, average fast-food workers who probably aren't really that good looking but for working at Hardee's she's hot, the proverbial girl next door (who's apparently become such a slut that one cannot even describe a girl as looking like the girl next door. Anyone who uses the phrase 'girl next door' to describe a good looking girl is a total doucher), your boss, a co-worker, bartender, waitress, famous actresses, not-so-famous actresses, non-actresses, female athletes (usually confined to beach volleyball players or Danica Patrick), porn stars, teachers, teachers' aides, maids, cheerleaders, video game characters, comic book characters (have you seen Hack/Slash!)...basically any woman a man encounters during a typical day is potentially spank bank material. Now, ladies, if your man tells you that you are his number one spank bank deposit, he is lying, except in my case. I love you, Steph. Oh, and quick side note, I know a lot of girlfriends might think that their boyfriend jerking off is gross, and yet she's always flattered when I say, "I was doing it to you!" Anyway, that's the story of the spank bank, which leads us back to the tragic Ms. Paige. Ms. Paige was a deposit in my own spank bank. I thought she had that pretty, girl-next-door kind of look. And as time went on, I became, I suppose, a fan of Haley Paige. Yet, the more I watched her movies, the more I could see a certain pain, a haunting visage of suffering hidden by exaggerated moans and loads of sperm. Frankly, the girl looked sad, which, in me, aroused suspicion (Suspicion is the nickname for my penis). So, my creepiness knowing no bounds, I decided to visit Ms. Paige's Wikipedia page in order to get a little bit o' history on the gal. Imagine my chagrin when I read that Ms. Paige is dead. Three years dead. Doctors think she died of a methadone overdose. Her boyfriend OD'ed a month later. Anyway, a very important, ethical question took hold of my very being: Is it OK to jerk off to someone you know is dead? I wasn't sure. I mean, precedence to the negative had been set in the Anna Nicole Smith incident of 2008. So this was tricky. Jerking off to porn is already a messy, disgusting humiliating act that should never be done by anyone (except followers of the Brotherhood of the Gassy Jesus), and this vile performance is only exacerbated by the fact that the chick your wanking to is dead. After months of debate, theories, trial runs and research, I decided that this was a decision that was too big for me to make on my own. So I decided to call forth a tribunal of perverts to help put the matter to rest. I set up a Lord of the Rings-type secret council, that consisted of myself, a co-worker of mine who solemnly refers to himself as the Dong-slinger, this dude who lives in my building who can't stop shaking his head and always has an umbrella, and former poet laureate Robert Penn Warren. After many thought-provoking arguments, death threats, MLB 2K10 tournaments, taco flavored pizza rolls and readings of Mr. Warren's novel All the King's Men, a decision was made, which I will announce................nnnnnnnnnnnow: Yes, it is OK for a dude to jerk off to a woman, any woman, he knows to be dead, as long as two (2) conditions are met. One, said abuser must not be jerking off over the fact that said woman is deceased. Two, said abuser must not be picturing the dead body of said woman while he is jerking off. As long as these two criteria are met, then it is not considered rude or creepy, but rather should be taken as an act to celebrate the life and times of said woman. But, still be pretty creepy. Sick, actually.
The Moore You Know: I cannot cook worth a shit. Seriously, I suck. I can barely thaw a goddamn burrito. Except for when I'm shitfaced. Dude, when I'm hammered I turn into fucking Wolfgang Puck. I'll stumble into my bedroom at three in morning, blasted off my ass, wake my girlfriend up by shouting, "Where's the cilantro. I n-need the cilantro for my ziti. Ziti is only good with cilantro. Also, I puked on your laptop."
© Eric Moore - 2010
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