Thinking too much can turn you into Howard Hughes

About a year ago, after I had detailed my idiosyncratic obsessive compulsive routine in post form, a friendly commentor replied "You better watch that, because before you know it your ass will wind up like Howard Hughes!" At first I thought nothing of it, feeling that I was secure in the fact that my ADD wouldn't get beyond my 5 daily showers, or my restaurant hand cleansing ritual where I make sure that my bare hand never comes in contact with any door handles or levers - only repeating said painstaking process if I happen to see someone that I know and proceed to shake their hand. But as time passed, the brief warning from one of my readers started to eat at me like a cancer, and in the subsequent days I started to really examine my behavior and the hypocrisy of it all. I mean, I'm so germaphobic that I've been known to throw on two condoms before sex, and if that act didn't make those women think that their vagina's were the equivalent to that "Outbreak" monkey - I'm sure that me dashing to the sink after the sex was over and scrubbing my genitalia as if it was a guaranteed winning scratch-off ticket did. I've worn surgical masks around co-workers who felt under the weather, I've quarantined women that I've lived with while they were sick - not allowing them to touch me with their bare hands, insisting that they use plastic forks and shit - I even remember one pitiful incident where I was so horny that I made my mate beat me off while wearing a rubber glove.(That was kind of hot now that I think about it) But the hypocrisy of it all is the fact that I'm a guy who has always loved to fight, just imagining all the diseases that I could have inadvertently come in contact with via some jackasses open bruise that I caused completely spits in the face of the germaphobic life in which I lived. So when I started to really dissect my own brand of bullshit I became a more relaxed person, I stopped rushing to the hospital for every sniffle, cough, and ill colored bowel movement. Even though I get a tested for H.I V every 6 months - I stop assuming that I have it right after I penetrate a woman whose vagina feels like a two-vehicle garage to my compact car. I forgot who made that particular comment last year, but I have to thank him or her, because the time I used to spend washing my hands is now used for something more productive - downloading Asian porn, where the ladies have bodies that suggest that they spend their free time burning PETA leaflets. The time that I spent trying to put as many condoms on my cock as possible, making my phallus look like the top half of an exclamation point in balloon form - is now used coming up with a better, more subtle way of informing a chick that she has to get the fuck out.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that you can't let shit consume you, because if you think about shit too long your ass will certainly be on some Howard Hughes shit. Here are a few examples of things that you can't worry too much about because if you do you'll never leave your fucking house.(Or possibly find yourself in a padded room somewhere.)

Making new friends: There are so many parallels when it comes to friendships and intimate relationships its startling - I'm sure we all have that friend who has been with the same woman for the past decade, despite the fact that her attitude suggests that she was potty trained at gun point and she sort of resembles "Grimace" on her best days. I'm also sure that many of us have that friend who has owed you 100 bucks since the last Heavy D album, acts like a horses ass whenever he's had too much to drink - and when you smoke with him he ruins your high and embarrasses you by saying silly shit like how he's collected every one of his farts in a glass jar since 97' and that Rosie O'Donnell's lesbianism is "all an act". In both cases the person isn't kept around because they are particularly great people, or they have something beneficial to offer, but simply because you know exactly what you're getting with each scenario. The scary thing about making new friends, similar to the dating world somewhat, is having to break all ties with a person when you find out something rather shitty with them. That motherfucker thinks Lil Wayne is a great lyricist - I can't hang with him any more, he has a history of fucking his friends' girlfriends - there's only room for one dude around here who has a penchant for fucking chicks while staring at pictures of the lovely couple on her headboard, plus he might try to have sex with my girl one day. You know what, I still think too much in this category - I still can't hang with anyone who I haven't known since phat laces and bomber jackets were fashionable.

Fast Food Restaurants: Just think about it for a minute, all of the disheveled looking people you've seen working at your local fast food restaurants - I'd bet you dollars to donuts that you wouldn't trust any of those individuals to do the most menial of tasks like delivering your morning paper. Come to think of it, the people that I've seen manning "the fries", the chick flipping burgers who looks like she was raised next to Chernobyl, and the cashier chick with a face that makes me want to ask her if she has seen the Arch of the Covenant - a sentiment that I quickly forget about as she is adding on her fingers like a retarded 3rd grader in math class before handing me my change. These are the people that we trust to handle our food, a slew of our future leaders that I wouldn't trust to pop a pimple on my back for fear of me catching something from them - somehow we casually pay for our grub, knowingly chowing down on unhealthy food - not thinking about the dude who handled it who failed to wash his hands after an extremely busy bowel movement moments earlier. Thank god that I stopped thinking too much, because a brother has to find some reason to visit this fine Latina broad with breasts so massive that I want her to meet "Brumsky".(Brumsky: Putting your face between a woman's breasts, and shaking your head back and forth vigorously while making a "Brumsky" sound)

Sex: When you are quickly approaching your mid-30's like I currently am, I would have a better chance getting blown by Da Brat then finding a woman around my age who who happened to be a virgin. So knowing that the women that I'm sexually involved with have probably been around the block more than my local mailman, excessive thought concerning her sexual past could have a brother becoming a monk and dedicating my life to chastity. For a minute, think about all the scumbags that have conquered that "land" before you - a rat pack of tyrants that consist of wanna-be rappers, "just add water" thugs, that nerd at her old job that she gave a "mercy blow" to at her a Christmas party, not to mention the three girls clitoris' she was intimate with when she thought she was a lesbian during her collegiate years. That's why whenever a chick asks me how many women I've been with, I always say: "I'm not going there, because if I answer then I'll have to ask you how many men you've been with. If the answer is a bit too high for my tastes, our sexual experiences from now on will consist of me holding rosary beads in each hand as I fuck you with a noticeable frown on my face."

Simple health check-ups: I view simple health check-ups the same way I viewed my old man's auto repair shop, let me explain. See, my father was the best mechanic that I've ever seen, a true tribute to the craft that could tell you what was wrong with your car by simply listening to it run for a few moments - a sort of automotive "Horse Whisperer" if that makes any sense to you. The issue that I had, especially when I was a teenager and didn't want anything slowing me down from chasing ass, was the way I'd go to his shop for a simple oil change and I'd find myself staying 4 hours longer than I expected. It happened like clockwork, right when I was about to pull out of his shop's driveway that was made of dirt and rocks, he'd always say "Wait a minute, whats that ticking sound? Do you hear that sucking sound, I bet a hose is off or something!" The next thing I knew my old man was tinkering with my car with a sort of child-like wonderment, which was great for my car but it was seriously cutting into my ass-reaming time. I feel the same way about simple check-ups, nothing is worse than going there for a clean bill of health and having the doctor voice some sort of concern. Case in point, a few months ago I had some blood tests that worried my doctor, he said that he wanted to run some more tests because of a liver issue that he though I might have. I was scared shitless, I spent the better part of the next week or so drinking nothing but water(like it mattered at that point), having a hard time sleeping as all my drunken nights replayed in my head like slaughtered Vietcong to a war veteran - I just knew that it had to be bad.

Wouldn't you know it, apparently he had misread some test, and my liver was surprisingly as healthy as ever. After threatening to kill the good doctor in the nicest way imaginable, I celebrated by getting shitfaced drunk.