I broke two vibrators last year.
This is what happens when you're in law school. You can't focus, so you masturbate. Your focus trials get shorter and shorter, and your handling of the vibrator gets more and more reckless. Before you know it, it's been 48 hours, you've gone through eight packs of double-A batteries, and your vagina is numb as a mofo.
Civil Procedure was the most horrendously boring class of all. I never went to the class, because it was so boring, and because it was at 9am. So I would at least try to do the reading on my own. I would open up the book to the assignment and see "Rule 26: Discovery Procedures." My head would start to spin. OK, I need a break. I'd come back 15 minutes later, open the book again, and think, OK, this stuff is pretty heavy though. I should take off a full hour. One hour would turn into three, and before I knew it, I'd be headed out to grab some more batteries. (Lord Ganesha, remover of all obstacles, I thank thee for the 24-hour Safeway.)
You know how Ivan Pavlov did that experiment with the dog, where he'd ring the bell and give the dog food, ring the bell and give the dog food, until the dog began salivating upon hearing the bell? Well, I inadvertently used classical conditioning to make myself horny upon the sight of the Civil Procedure textbook. I am probably the only person who gets horny thinking about Civil Procedure.
One time I made the mistake of going to class. I got called on and had no idea what I was babbling about, but that wasn't the worst part. The true tragedy was the 35 Civil Procedure textbooks all around me in the hands of my peers. I didn't know what to do with myself. Should I start grinding on the chair? It was just too much of a tease, so going to class was no longer an option.
...
I've never quite understood the approach of the whole "abstinence only" camp. I do think people should be responsible and respectful with sexuality, and I would highly recommend completing puberty before broaching this arena, but I think that people in those horny formative years then require a reasonable alternative, such as comprehensive masturbation education. Since conservatives in particular blame and target girls for getting knocked up too quick, why not arm each girl with a pocket rocket as an entree into junior high?
For some reason, I think some people might find this even more threatening than girls screwing boys. Imagine if girls not only felt comfortable and validated in exploring their own bodies, but could get themselves off at the stroke of a wand in a way that dick simply never could. The thunderously powerful, reliable plastic might get them desensitized to the "kabhi haan, kabhi na" trials of the lingam, and then God forbid should they lose any incentive or interest in being the dutiful incubators of the church and the state, or realize that they could just as easily and pleasurably (and more safely!) toy it up with another chick. I suppose it's better from the perspective of some traditional jackasses to deprive scared, horny young girls of any information that might prevent them from saving their sexuality -- in its entirety -- for their lame-ass husbands.
Well, fuck that! I don't think it's a bad thing to encourage young peeps to exercise caution in exploring their sexualities, but this idea of "the safest sex is abstinence" can go fuck itself. I mean, it should be at least that creative. I come from the land of satyagraha, and I follow in that tradition of civil disobedience and self-reliance. It was at the age of three that I first began resisting attacks on young female sexual pleasure with my fingers firmly shoved up my cunt. In the absence of a partner that you can trust to respect you and your boundaries -- and hell, even in the presence of such a partner -- for God's sake, masturbate. I've never understood how some women can touch and lick other people's balls, dicks, pussies, asses, without first feeling comfortable touching their own. Make love to yourself. This, my friends, is a civil procedure.
