>>> The Lady's Shave
By staff writer NG Hatfield
July 11, 2007

When I've looked down at my penis in the past, I've considered myself a lucky person. After all, there really is no way to explain its greatness other than some benevolent force looking out for me… and also, the ladies. Its shape, structure, length, girth, width, height, etc. are in perfect proportion to a huge fucking dildo. It makes me feel like I have something to give back to the world.

But not anymore. Now, looking to my penis really doesn't help so much. My libido is comparable to that black kid who writes for PIC. You know, the one who doesn't say sexual things because all the white girls who read the site would probably consider it some form of rape.

If you've read anything by me in the last two years, you know that my libido is my life. If my libido is shit, my life is shit. It just so happens that I'm currently going through the opposite: my life is shit, so my libido is dead.

What could possibly put the kibosh to one of the strongest forces in the world, you ask?

“I don't have penis strength because I haven't eaten today.”

As a JR Rebello once said: Let me count the ways.

1. I can't get a boner because my car broke down.

If you've ever met me or my beat-up whore of a Ford Escort named Trixie, you know that this was an inevitability. The damn thing has survived over 100 field-boggin' excursions, two huge fucking deer, a yellow fire hydrant, a telephone poll, a mailbox or two, and a Chinese woman who I care not to name. So yeah, with all of that chop suey flying at my car, it wasn't that big of a surprise when I started hearing a clicking noise in the clutch. When it got louder, I got concerned, went to Wal-Mart and had it checked out. Fuck if those morons knew anything about it and I drove home minus thirty dollars. Well, almost home. Trixie's clutch decided to go bye-bye about six miles away from my bed. And suddenly, there I was: a man without a car.

If that wasn't bad enough, I got the bright idea to spend my last sixty dollars on a bike to get home. Strangest thing about that: the motherfucker busted a tire after no less than ten minutes of biking. I got off my bike and just laughed the rest of the walk home.

This leads us to step two in my “The Universe is Fucking Me Sideways and Without Lube” celebration:

2. I can't maintain an erection because I lost my job.

Working is overrated, yes, but when it's your only source of free meals and entertainment outside of an Xbox and a computer, it ain't so goddamned bad. I worked at Jimmy John's, a place much like Subway but with better, quicker food. It was a great gig.

I'd go out at night, deliver subs to drunk-ass sorority girls who would, in turn, give me beer and/or their numbers. Plus, I didn't have to work with the child molesters that I had to deal with when I was helping out at St. John's Catholic Church.

Heh, just kidding. Do you honestly think I'd do that? The child molesters worked at Fox's Pizza, for sure.

I have to give the guys at Jimmy John's credit, though. Even though I was a delivery driver without a car (or a fucking bike), they kept me on the schedule and tried to find ways to get me to come in. Hell, they even invited me to hang out on the Fourth of July. Kudos to them, really. They helped when they could.

3. I don't have penis strength because I haven't eaten today.

Or yesterday. Or come to think of it two days ago either. My entire diet consists of yummy Appalachian air and disgusting Morgantown water.

The good news: I've lost about ten pounds and no longer have a beer gut.

The bad news: when you're very hungry, you end up sleeping 14-20 hours a day, and it's really fucking difficult to get things done.

The funniest/strangest news: I still shit on a regular basis. I don't know where it's all coming from, but according to Gaudio family legend, if a person of Gaudio origin starves himself, he expels all the evil from his body.

Speaking of evil…

4. I'm limp as a wet paper towel because I have seven cigarettes left.

And now that I'm thinking about smoking, we'll make that six.

I'm a terrible rationer, goddamnit, considering that I'm used to going through about 15 a day. Yeah, smoking is bad for you, but so is the fact that…

5. My cock has withdrawn into my chest cavity because I'm sleeping on a friend's futon.

I'm not really complaining about this, though. My buddy McCoy was gracious enough to allow me to sleep here until I can somehow get back on my feet (however the hell I'm going to do that).

However, McCoy did make it a point to remind me how many people have actually had dirty, disease-ridden sex on it. The futon itself isn't too terribly uncomfortable; I think it's the body condom I slid over it that makes it not so terribly convenient for sleep.

6. My “meat” is “uncooked” because I'm out of money.

No joke. I'm not your typical “I'm sooooo broke!” bastard. I literally am out of money. I can't buy cigs. I can't buy food. I can't buy condoms. I can't buy a stick of fucking gum. It's amazing that I'm actually still alive without my body's need for purchasing things.

The more I think about it, the more it appears that I need this stuff they call “money.”

7. My dick is a noodle because my computer crashed.

No seriously. Downloading porn one night, I got a sick virus. It didn't do much damage until my dumbass decided to run System Restore. For some reason, the drive partitioned off and created another operating system. I can't access my old files as a result.

I lost approximately 95% of my work. This includes whatever things I wanted to submit to grad school and all of the nudies I had of ex-girlfriends. I'm not sure what upsets me more… that I have to re-write 1000 pieces of work from memory in the next 3 months or that I have to remember how hot my first girlfriend was when she was eighteen and not pregnant and barefoot.

Oh yeah, speaking of that…

8. My penis feels abused because the bitch left me.

And you all wonder why I'm a fucking misogynist. During the most difficult time of my life (see list one through seven), my ex-girlfriend decides that she'll be the first girl to break up with me. She said that she wasn't capable of “being there” for me… when “being there” for me was essentially just listening to me bitch. Apparently, when your life sucks so much, it's hard to be around you. Very cumbersome indeed.

The good news in this situation really isn't so far fetched. Instead of wasting time talking to her about vampire books and purses, I can talk to other, more attractive girls about making out and rim jobs. It's true, I have been laid since this all has happened. I don't know if it was pity or the fact that I still have a bit of skill pulsing through my veins, but as I've said before, it doesn't matter why you get it, as long as ya do.

9. My libido is dead and buried because, simply, I've had writer's block.

That's why I'm bitching now, really. I've got nothing else to write. I can't exactly get in the humor-writing mood when I'm down to five cigarettes… heh.

I just wanted to update all of you who wrote the nice emails regarding my absence. But that might not be enough, right? I mean, by now, you're probably asking, “Well, what the fuck are you going to do, Nick?” Well dear reader, that's the beauty of this whole situation: I don't really know. I can't drive and I can't bike; thus, I can't get a job. I can't get a job; I can't get money. I can't get money; I can't eat. I can't eat; I can't sleep. And so on and so on and so on. You get the point.

So what then? I've thought seriously about just packing up with a notepad and pen and walking wherever the sun takes me, but I'd probably end up dying in the gutter somewhere. My friends seem to think that this is just “delayed suicide” but hell, why wait then?

The point is, kids, don't turn out like me. I don't know exactly how to arrange that, but if you can avoid any of these things, do it.

I just want you all to know that whatever happens, I'll still always hate all of you and your ugly, ugly faces.

And would somebody please publish my shit post mortem?

Your friend,
Nick Gaudio