Don't Fuck With My Mojo

I fold my dirty clothes.

Do the dishes, take my pills, ring the bell in my altar. I put clothes on and get the fuck out of the room. Paula is out there. I say hello. She says hello back. She doesn't want to talk to me. I walk on, that's already starting my day on a good foot. I go away happy.

I check my mailbox for the inevitable letter from WECARE telling me that my case has been given to HRA and that I have to go to Fair Hearing to deal with it. I look... there's nothing in there. Nothing? I smile. Something is wrong. I haven't gone to any of their classes yet, and missed two of their stupid mandatory meetings. A letter from my Case Manager, telling me that I have to come in. Fuck them. Although I'm going in tomorrow to keep them from saying that I wasn't working with the case manager.

They're building their case now and whatever I do will be thrown back into my face. So I betta do right! With this great feeling I walk out of the building and into the strong afternoon light. It is a hot day. I head for the west side of the street where the long shadows of the buildings are covering. I need to keep the sun offa me. I tan easily.

So I'm walking down the street, and I'm thinking about losing weight, my book that I'm writing, and I'm looking at some of the hottest women on Earth walk by. Tits and ass, cameltoes, long legs, long hair, scantily dressed, airily dressed, stunning features.

AND I DON'T GIVE A FUCK!!! Holy shit.

I realize that I've been thinking about other shit, mindless shit while all of this feminine pulchritude is walking past me. At first it stunned me. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk like a tourist. I am actually so stunned that I had to take a meaningful pause FROM LIFE! I literally stepped back, out of my body, straightened my glasses and then stepped back in. My libido is completely gone. I start off again and I'm looking at women just out of force of habit, but I really don't care, my joint doesn't stir in the least. Before the motherfucker would be moving like a goddamn snake in my pants. Now...nothing. It was like he was dead.

I I try to focus on naughty thoughts to make it move. Thoughts that I KNEW I like and would make it stir. Nothing. Now I realize something important. First. I haven't had a meaningful erection in more than a month. It's been a gradual falling off until now. Now an erection does NOT start in the joint for all of you who thought that. An erection starts in the Brain. Erection begins with sensory or mental stimulation, or both. Impulses from the brain and local nerves cause the muscles of the corpora cavernosa to relax, allowing blood to flow in and fill the spaces. Two chambers called the corpora cavernosa, which run the length of the organ. The blood creates pressure in the corpora cavernosa, making the penis expand.

Ha ha ha, you thought that I wrote that didn't you?! I cut and pasted it from the Internet because others explain it better than I do. So that's class 101 for today folks. Going on about my dick, notice that an erection begins in the brain, and what do you think has been working on my brain for the past month, gaining momentum? LUVOX. Everyday it gets stronger and stronger in the bloodstream, and everyday I get another side effect. Drowsiness, crazy assed dreams, numb limbs, memory loss, blah blah blah. Now this?

Shit, I'm only 47, still relatively young. And I have to lose my libido just to have the benefits of this shit? I'm thinking now because this is bullshit. I'd rather play scrabble with these women walking by than fuck them. There is something definitely wrong with the cosmic spiral here. No, I heard of WELLBUTRIN returning the libido back to you. It has the ability to reverse the effects of the drugs like LUVOX called selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs). These kinds of drugs are known to affect the libido. I could ask my doctor to kick up the WELLBUTRIN in my bloodstream to do it's job. But...I think I'm at the maximum human dosage for WELLBUTRIN. That's not good. That means that LUVOX is one strong motherfucker.

Hmmmm, this makes everything much different. I'd rather jump at everything that moves and fuck it, than have a steely exterior and a limp dick. That's asking a little too much from a hobo. This is distressing. In three days, I see my psychiatrist and her and I have to have a long talk.

I walk south for a half an hour, then an hour back, depressed. Depressed over two things. The loss of my libido or the loss of LUVOX. Mutually exclusive. I hope I'm wrong about the WELLBUTRIN. I drop off my prescription of LYRICA at Duane Reade, do some light shopping and then came home. I did my research on the Internet and all of the LUVOX sites have down:

Side effects of all SSRIs include anxiety, nervousness, sweating, nausea, decreased appetite, constipation, diarrhea, dry mouth, somnolence (sleepiness), dizziness, insomnia, and SEXUAL DYSFUNCTION.

Doesn't look good for LUVOX. There better be some magic pill to bring my MOJO back or this shit ends. Can't fuck with a man's MOJO. That's going to be my saying from now on. 'Don't fuck with a man's MOJO.' That's bullshit.

I go back home and take a seat behind my laptop. I stay online for a long time tonight. All night long. I grow tired, and soon seek out sleep. I grab my joint and shake it. It does not stir. Don't worry, I say to it...If Austin Powers can get his MOJO back, so can I.

Yeah, so what? I talk to my dick.

Hobobob