ray's gangbang
so i ran the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon yesterday.
lookie
and what does this have to do with gangbangs? i'll tell ya.
there exists, and not just theorectically, pornography where the 'stars' see how many somethings they can stuff themselves with over the course of whatever time. 24 in 36. 36 in 24. 60 in 1. 26.2 in 6 hours and 29 seconds? no one knows exactly why. maybe it's to see if they can. maybe it's because there are thousands of complete strangers cheering them on.
sure, to the 'star', maybe the first few are no problem, even fun. 6 thru 13 and still going strong, not as fun, but they go by quick. somewhere around 16 they have to be thinking "what the fuck am i doing?". "I want to do this?". "Why didn't i get my G.E.D.?" by 18, they are getting iced down down there, legs are jello, hips need replacing. 20 and they wish everything was just a little shorter, but it's not. must finish. quitting at 20 would leave 6.2 people very disappointed. 23, must stop, THE PAIN, but people are giving them water, holding up signs, screaming "you can do it!", "only 3 more!". number 25 has to be the most disappointed. there's crying. pouting. rationalizing. but there must be something sexy cuz there's unconditional support at every thrust. number 26 starts off much the same. there is no pleasure in this pain. somewhere near the very end though, things start looking up. there is laughter through the tears. the final moans are muffled by cheering, applause, and their name being announced on the megaphone. they feel so good that they shove 26 off and give the cameraman a hand job. "YEAH! I JUST FUCKED TWENTY SIX POINT TWO GUYS!"
then they walk funny for a week and a half.
ray's gangbang:
Miles 1 thru 13:
not even a problem. i've done this before. turns out that 75% of the people that run marathons are totally hot. when one passes you, try to catch 'em. lecherous? yes. ten minute miles? also, yes. total 'carrot on a stick'
Mile 8
the half marathoners turn left. ha, turn left you lazy halfies. wait, come back! i'm with the skinny birdleg people. hotness drops to 11% and those have already waaaaay passed me. no more carrots.
Mile 14
not tired. still exhilerated. my legs are wondering where the car is. they are used to going to Sonic or the bar after thirteen miles. i have to spell out "T-W-E-L-V-E more" in my head so my legs can't hear. even my brain doesn't know about the .2 at the end. it likes to round down.
Mile 15
questionable song comes on the running mix. brain slips up and tells legs that they are not going to the bar. they are in fact going to the marathon equivalent of the dentist office. they respond by throwing a little tantrum. i text Pam for support. she responds with just the right words. it's one thing for complete strangers who are SITTING IN FUCKING CHAIRS to cheer you on, but quite another when someone who has shared your current emotional state sends the perfect text. "Oh my god. Go, ray, go! You can do it! Think of the groove of ch-ch-ch-changes and keep on movin'. You can do it! I'm proud of you!" thanks Miss Pam.
it is at this point i run out of Sport Beans. don't laugh. they are made by Jelly Belly and they are exactly what they sound, jelly beans for the athlectically inclined/challenged. within my body they sprouted a magical beanstalk of stamina AND I WAS OUT OF THEM.
Mile 16
this sucks. bad suck. my artificial stamina stalk is dead. i decide to try the Gu. Gu is no Sport Bean lemme tell ya. "Gu Energy Gel is sports nutrition product for the weekend warrior, team sport enthusiast or professional athlete that offers an immediate, long-lasting source of energy". it also tastes old cookie batter that has been in a pocket for too long. oh, and guess what? that's where i found it! so now it's been in two pockets for too long. in it's feeble defense, i was SO angry at the guy that recommended 'coffee' flavored that i had run two more miles while thinking of what to yell at him if i ever saw his palettely challenged ass again.
Mile 18
eight more miles. Fuck You! i purposely carried my cell phone, $20, and my i.d. just in case i decided to quit, go in a bar, and call my friends to come get hammered with me. Oh my. there is a whole herd of rythmic drummers by the lake. they are just there to drum out their support and THEY ARE DRUMMING 128bpm in perfect time Chris Cox's remix of Kelly Clarkson's 'Walk Away'. don't judge. you weren't there. i decide to walk/dance past them to make the moment last longer. the drummers are perplexed as to why the guy who is obviously wearing earphones is jamming to their native beat. i don't know either, but it worked.
Mile 20
some lady is playing violin in a parking lot. it does not match my music AT ALL. but i appreciate the effort. smiles. oh wait, not smiles, excruciating pain. no, not cringing at your music. sorry. must go faster than my embarassment.
Mile 21
i ask the comfy chair guy if he installed the upcoming hill just for me. he says he picked it up at walmart just this morning. kinda funny. i decide thenceforth to be the hack comedian of the marathon. only instead of telling the same jokes from night to night, i get to tell them every half mile or so.
Mile 21.5
to girl at water station: "Are you hiring, I can start immediately." we both think i'm hilarious.
Mile 21.75
i haven't felt this way about orange slices since 1978 soccer league. those mom's know what's up.
Mile 22
to police officer: "What is the cheapest offense that will get me a ride to the police station by the finish line". smirk.
Mile 23
some ladies are holding up a sign that reads "You're Not Tired! Oprah Winfrey 4:29 P. Diddy 4:14". let me tell ya something ladies. your intentions were good. but it's mile fucking 23. i've already been passed by the old blind lady AND the old blind man (true). it's waaay past the 4:29 mark and i good and damn well know how much better Oprah and P. Diddy are than me. my anger towards this sign carries me another mile.
Mile 23 something
to parking officer: "i think my car is illegally parked by the finish line. Wanna go see?" i am so hilarious, really, i am the bomb. whew. yeah, too funny.
Mile 24
water joke, water joke, police joke. still hilarious.
Mile 24 something
i realize i am not at all funny. the pain is really too much. i take a phone call from my friend Rain who wants to know if she can swing by and pick up a cooking pan. Sure!
the mobile medical bike team is obviously bored so they begin hunting for stragglers. six of them do wide circles around me waiting for immenent death. i dub them the anti-vultures. we agree i am hilarious again.
Mile 25
i will finish, but at what cost? i am obviously doing irrepairable damage to my body. i am the second to last place place 1A middle school girls basketball team . the cheerleaders, half-clapping and monotone, "go, fight, let's not drag this out, " one of the roadblock ladies is actually clapping cross-armed against her forearm WHILE SMOKING A CIGARETTE. then comes the serenity prayer. "Lord grant me the strength to beat that old woman and take her cigarette." i realize she is much faster than me. i also realize that i have a pack in the Jeep. yes folks. cigarettes. that is how i got through the last mile. take that TRUTH.
i get passed by incredibly old hunchback man wearing a 'marathon finisher in 48 states and all canadian provinces, 4 times" t-shirt. (i found out today that Pam got passed by the same guy in Hawaii) what are the other two states i wonder? the Dakotas? Alaska and Delaware? Official Marathon Decider Person showing official pictograph to Delaware: "You must be at least this wide to run this ride." Ha! totally dissed Delaware. did you hear how funny i am, legs? legs? hey legs!? we know we're funny, right brain? left brain? double entendre? anybody? where are i? just then...
There's the balloon arch and a grandstand WITH PEOPLE IN IT. caring, cheering people. i'm actually gonna finish this thing. my brain and my legs work out a deal and before i know it i am running. not fast, but yes, it is actual running... maybe hobbling at a medium pace. i look to my right to see two ladies on the sidewalk who finished hours before. they are walking faster than my running and they are heading towards the finish line. "Please don't beat me... again," i plead. they laugh and say, "We only ran the half! You're almost there! GO! GO! GO!" i convince myself that i AM hilarious and that my hobbling is actually sprinting.
the grandstand is cheering. the announcer belts "Number 2539, Ray Prewitt, First Time Runner" my delusional state encourages one more hack. i stop just short of the finish line, wave my hand in a snubbing motion as i turn completely around and say, "nah." even the announcer chuckled a little.
that is how i gangbanged myself, but I got a medal... instead of herpes.
when i got home my Redwing boots looked at me like they were dog chews and i had taken their half sisters to Salt Lick without them. i'm gonna give 'em a polish and take 'em to the beer joint.
lookie
and what does this have to do with gangbangs? i'll tell ya.
there exists, and not just theorectically, pornography where the 'stars' see how many somethings they can stuff themselves with over the course of whatever time. 24 in 36. 36 in 24. 60 in 1. 26.2 in 6 hours and 29 seconds? no one knows exactly why. maybe it's to see if they can. maybe it's because there are thousands of complete strangers cheering them on.
sure, to the 'star', maybe the first few are no problem, even fun. 6 thru 13 and still going strong, not as fun, but they go by quick. somewhere around 16 they have to be thinking "what the fuck am i doing?". "I want to do this?". "Why didn't i get my G.E.D.?" by 18, they are getting iced down down there, legs are jello, hips need replacing. 20 and they wish everything was just a little shorter, but it's not. must finish. quitting at 20 would leave 6.2 people very disappointed. 23, must stop, THE PAIN, but people are giving them water, holding up signs, screaming "you can do it!", "only 3 more!". number 25 has to be the most disappointed. there's crying. pouting. rationalizing. but there must be something sexy cuz there's unconditional support at every thrust. number 26 starts off much the same. there is no pleasure in this pain. somewhere near the very end though, things start looking up. there is laughter through the tears. the final moans are muffled by cheering, applause, and their name being announced on the megaphone. they feel so good that they shove 26 off and give the cameraman a hand job. "YEAH! I JUST FUCKED TWENTY SIX POINT TWO GUYS!"
then they walk funny for a week and a half.
ray's gangbang:
Miles 1 thru 13:
not even a problem. i've done this before. turns out that 75% of the people that run marathons are totally hot. when one passes you, try to catch 'em. lecherous? yes. ten minute miles? also, yes. total 'carrot on a stick'
Mile 8
the half marathoners turn left. ha, turn left you lazy halfies. wait, come back! i'm with the skinny birdleg people. hotness drops to 11% and those have already waaaaay passed me. no more carrots.
Mile 14
not tired. still exhilerated. my legs are wondering where the car is. they are used to going to Sonic or the bar after thirteen miles. i have to spell out "T-W-E-L-V-E more" in my head so my legs can't hear. even my brain doesn't know about the .2 at the end. it likes to round down.
Mile 15
questionable song comes on the running mix. brain slips up and tells legs that they are not going to the bar. they are in fact going to the marathon equivalent of the dentist office. they respond by throwing a little tantrum. i text Pam for support. she responds with just the right words. it's one thing for complete strangers who are SITTING IN FUCKING CHAIRS to cheer you on, but quite another when someone who has shared your current emotional state sends the perfect text. "Oh my god. Go, ray, go! You can do it! Think of the groove of ch-ch-ch-changes and keep on movin'. You can do it! I'm proud of you!" thanks Miss Pam.
it is at this point i run out of Sport Beans. don't laugh. they are made by Jelly Belly and they are exactly what they sound, jelly beans for the athlectically inclined/challenged. within my body they sprouted a magical beanstalk of stamina AND I WAS OUT OF THEM.
Mile 16
this sucks. bad suck. my artificial stamina stalk is dead. i decide to try the Gu. Gu is no Sport Bean lemme tell ya. "Gu Energy Gel is sports nutrition product for the weekend warrior, team sport enthusiast or professional athlete that offers an immediate, long-lasting source of energy". it also tastes old cookie batter that has been in a pocket for too long. oh, and guess what? that's where i found it! so now it's been in two pockets for too long. in it's feeble defense, i was SO angry at the guy that recommended 'coffee' flavored that i had run two more miles while thinking of what to yell at him if i ever saw his palettely challenged ass again.
Mile 18
eight more miles. Fuck You! i purposely carried my cell phone, $20, and my i.d. just in case i decided to quit, go in a bar, and call my friends to come get hammered with me. Oh my. there is a whole herd of rythmic drummers by the lake. they are just there to drum out their support and THEY ARE DRUMMING 128bpm in perfect time Chris Cox's remix of Kelly Clarkson's 'Walk Away'. don't judge. you weren't there. i decide to walk/dance past them to make the moment last longer. the drummers are perplexed as to why the guy who is obviously wearing earphones is jamming to their native beat. i don't know either, but it worked.
Mile 20
some lady is playing violin in a parking lot. it does not match my music AT ALL. but i appreciate the effort. smiles. oh wait, not smiles, excruciating pain. no, not cringing at your music. sorry. must go faster than my embarassment.
Mile 21
i ask the comfy chair guy if he installed the upcoming hill just for me. he says he picked it up at walmart just this morning. kinda funny. i decide thenceforth to be the hack comedian of the marathon. only instead of telling the same jokes from night to night, i get to tell them every half mile or so.
Mile 21.5
to girl at water station: "Are you hiring, I can start immediately." we both think i'm hilarious.
Mile 21.75
i haven't felt this way about orange slices since 1978 soccer league. those mom's know what's up.
Mile 22
to police officer: "What is the cheapest offense that will get me a ride to the police station by the finish line". smirk.
Mile 23
some ladies are holding up a sign that reads "You're Not Tired! Oprah Winfrey 4:29 P. Diddy 4:14". let me tell ya something ladies. your intentions were good. but it's mile fucking 23. i've already been passed by the old blind lady AND the old blind man (true). it's waaay past the 4:29 mark and i good and damn well know how much better Oprah and P. Diddy are than me. my anger towards this sign carries me another mile.
Mile 23 something
to parking officer: "i think my car is illegally parked by the finish line. Wanna go see?" i am so hilarious, really, i am the bomb. whew. yeah, too funny.
Mile 24
water joke, water joke, police joke. still hilarious.
Mile 24 something
i realize i am not at all funny. the pain is really too much. i take a phone call from my friend Rain who wants to know if she can swing by and pick up a cooking pan. Sure!
the mobile medical bike team is obviously bored so they begin hunting for stragglers. six of them do wide circles around me waiting for immenent death. i dub them the anti-vultures. we agree i am hilarious again.
Mile 25
i will finish, but at what cost? i am obviously doing irrepairable damage to my body. i am the second to last place place 1A middle school girls basketball team . the cheerleaders, half-clapping and monotone, "go, fight, let's not drag this out, " one of the roadblock ladies is actually clapping cross-armed against her forearm WHILE SMOKING A CIGARETTE. then comes the serenity prayer. "Lord grant me the strength to beat that old woman and take her cigarette." i realize she is much faster than me. i also realize that i have a pack in the Jeep. yes folks. cigarettes. that is how i got through the last mile. take that TRUTH.
i get passed by incredibly old hunchback man wearing a 'marathon finisher in 48 states and all canadian provinces, 4 times" t-shirt. (i found out today that Pam got passed by the same guy in Hawaii) what are the other two states i wonder? the Dakotas? Alaska and Delaware? Official Marathon Decider Person showing official pictograph to Delaware: "You must be at least this wide to run this ride." Ha! totally dissed Delaware. did you hear how funny i am, legs? legs? hey legs!? we know we're funny, right brain? left brain? double entendre? anybody? where are i? just then...
There's the balloon arch and a grandstand WITH PEOPLE IN IT. caring, cheering people. i'm actually gonna finish this thing. my brain and my legs work out a deal and before i know it i am running. not fast, but yes, it is actual running... maybe hobbling at a medium pace. i look to my right to see two ladies on the sidewalk who finished hours before. they are walking faster than my running and they are heading towards the finish line. "Please don't beat me... again," i plead. they laugh and say, "We only ran the half! You're almost there! GO! GO! GO!" i convince myself that i AM hilarious and that my hobbling is actually sprinting.
the grandstand is cheering. the announcer belts "Number 2539, Ray Prewitt, First Time Runner" my delusional state encourages one more hack. i stop just short of the finish line, wave my hand in a snubbing motion as i turn completely around and say, "nah." even the announcer chuckled a little.
that is how i gangbanged myself, but I got a medal... instead of herpes.
when i got home my Redwing boots looked at me like they were dog chews and i had taken their half sisters to Salt Lick without them. i'm gonna give 'em a polish and take 'em to the beer joint.
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