Premajure Enjunkulation: A Social Experiment in Creating Language

Does this really surprise anyone?

So, I’ve been wondering what it would take to get a word or phrase created and part of the daily lexicon of the modern world. I had no such word [there were a few that were possible] until my last couple blogs.

Thus I present to you premature ejunkulation.

Ejunkulate (verb): 1. to send a naked picture of yourself to another person; 2. To expose your crazy in a rapid, violent manner.

Premature ejunkulation (noun): The act of sending picures of your junk to a person you barely know. In other words, the Match.com freak who thinks you need to see pics of your junk moments after your first IM conversation.

THE CHALLENGE

After reading this and the linked blog, begin using the word whenever one of these situations occur. Furthermore, use Twitter, Facebook, Text, and other forms of social media to spread this word around and introduce more people to it. You can even link my blog, if you so choose.

Let’s make this word happen people! How many times have you been asked to help create language for general usage.

I will periodically update my quest as I get more information about appearances of this word on the internet.

Premajure Ejunkulation (Bar Girls and Crazy Trains): You want me to stick it where?!?!

There is a great deal of irony in the way men and women prematurely ejunkulate¹. As mentioned earlier in “Exposing Your Junk”, men seem to think that women like to see pictures of their junk via text messages a mere four hours after meeting. This is largely based on the following flawed logic: I am a visual person and I like naked women/Therefore women must want to see naked me [Note: A successful logic argument needs at least THREE parts to be plausible…men tend to skip a step]².

Interestingly enough, men would welcome this kind of ejunkulation from women they just met [In fact, they are secretly hoping you will send them]³. Men are quick to gloss over the fact that this type of behavior is equally crazy. This is because men are thinking, “Hey, I have a new naked picture on my phone.” Still, women you just met aren’t usually in the habit of sending them.  Instead, women tend to expose their crazy with their words…much to the dismay of the horny guy involved.

Now, to be clear, this crazy is often not sexual [Unless there is a copious amount of alcohol involved]. It is often a phrase or set of phrases that can be subtle if you aren’t paying attention. Other times, it is something else entirely.

Premature Ejunkulation: Testoserone and Exposing Your Junk

 I’ve been reading a couple blogs over the past few weeks and it has occurred to me that far too many men and women are encountering the Crazy Trains of the world at an alarming rate. As of this publishing, there is still not an effective warning system and people are being blindsided by other people’s junk…but it’s not psychological junk I am referring to.

Imagine, you met a guy and spent a good four hours¹ talking to them at a bar or club. The conversation was amazing; the chemistry was good.  You drive home thinking to yourself, “Wow, I kinda like that guy” [Maybe even really like the guy]. He sends you a text saying how wonderful it was talking to you and you respond with “Me too. I look forward to seeing you again.” Apparently, “seeing you again” is the international cue for “ALL ABOARD!!!!!”².  You receive the following three texts in succession:

1. Neither can I.
2. Here’s a little something to remember me by.
3. [picture of COCK AND BALLS]³

SINCE WHEN WAS THIS OK?!?!?? I certainly never got the memo. [No really, I searched the internet for a whole five minutes and there is NO MEMO] In some cases, If he’s really classy, he will forgo the text and his junk will be waiting in your inbox. Rumor has it, there’s even an APP for that.⁴ This also applies for meeting people via Match.com. JK has reported more than one instance of junk mail just minutes after an IM session [Why is there no spam setting for this?]⁵

I can tell you, from everything I’ve ever heard women say, they honestly don’t want to see your junk in picture form right after they meet you. In fact, many women don’t want to see your junk after 10 years of marriage [Although, this is usually in ANY format and speaks to a larger marital problem].

EF1 [ex fiancé one, for those who forgot the acronym] had the misfortune, or good fortune depending on your point of view, of meeting a guy who waited 40 SECONDS before exposing junk on his phone, but it wasn’t even HIS JUNK?!?!?!  He thought he would impress her by showing all of the female junk women had texted him [A clear turn-on right ladies?] I have to wonder if it was even junk that was sent to him because my suspicion is that it was just stuff he got of the internet or was forwarded by some other douche. [Needless to say, this particular fella had trouble containing the crazy for longer than four minutes at a time]

Women are more likely to expose themselves with verbal or written junk [featured in very next blog, Crazy Trains and Bar Girls: You Want Me To Stick It Where? (this blog will be rated M for mature].

What has happened to the filter that prevented people from doing this sort of thing? I mean sure, most celebrities have a sex tape or naked pictures.  Sure, most movies, according to Adam Carrolla, feature gratuitous male junk. Sure, most plot lines involve sophomoric, overtly sexual behavior. Sure, the “clean” songs on the radio feature more sex than an episode of Grey’s Anatomy [OK, I just don’t like Grey’s]. But, surely none of this has anything to do with it right…oh wait….

AFTERWORD: I’ve retitled the this blog to coincide with the one that follows. I think it’s high time that we had a word for this phenomenon. Thus, I present to you Ejunkulate and Premature Ejunkulation!

New language alert! Ejunkulate (verb): 1. to send a naked picture of yourself to another person; 2. To expose your crazy in a rapid, violent manner. Premature ejunkulation (noun): The act of sending picures of your junk to a person you barely know.

Footnotes:

1. This theory will now be called Diablorobotica’s Law.
2. Just didn’t want to say Crazy Train again.
3. Sadly, simple cock and balls is the minimum. I have heard of some pretty crazy pictures people have sent without warning.
4. Though I’m pretty sure there is not.
5. There needs to be a time equivalent for all other forms of communication, like e-mail, Facebook messages, texting, or stalking them on Google. All of these factor in the calculations for Diablorobotica’s Law.

Clutter Singularity (Part Penultimate): The Great Pacific Garbage Patch, or, What Happens When Society’s Junk Piles Up

First, to review:

* We took a look at what “Junk” is

*Looked at Baggage, Trashcans and Other Junkmeres (First 3 levels of junk)

*Purchased our very own Municipal Junk Truck

* And visited the Junk Recycling Center

———

Now, for the final level of junk.

———

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch – As more and more people toss their “junk” into the collective unconsciousness, it travels rivers, flood channels, and ocean currents until it settles on that select few who have so much junk, it consumes every inch of who they are. This is the highest level of junk and, seemingly, people with this level of junk are calling themselves “adults” at an alarming rate. [According to recent estimates, the amount of junk and people with that junk would fill every square inch the state of Texas.  Others say it’s the size of the continental United States (Explains a lot)]¹

While it is possible for one person to amass this amount of junk [Normally this requires decades of junk clean up to even begin to level off], more and more we see a culture where the junk flows freely about and becomes routinely visible from space. The collective unconsciousness that Jung referred to [see “Love in Time of Obama” for more on Jung’s theory] has become contaminated to the point that higher levels of junk have become the “norm”, not the exception. Popular culture even celebrates these people [TMZ, Perez Hilton, US Magazine] and gives them their own reality series [Octomom/John and Kate + 8/Britney Spears/Flava Flav ]. It almost makes you wonder when “Tiger’s Women” will have their own reality show [If Gloria Allred has her way, they soon will because they were all “victims]². I keep waiting for Jonathan Edwards to get his own dating show on VH-1. [Many of today’s politicians, have their offices in the GPGP…the rent is cheaper and they feel right at home..]

Trash Patterns

This collective junk has reached staggering levels and continues to handicap future generations from being able to cope with all of their junk. Junk trends of the past twenty years include: Victimization and blame have replaced responsibility; sympathy has replaced empathy; entitlement has replaced “earning it”; consumption has replaced production; feelings have replaced rational thought and sound moral decisions; and “I WANT IT NOW” has replaced common sense, delayed gratification, and just about anything else you can think of.⁴

You need to look no further than how pop culture affects today’s teenagers. Young women are being taught to embrace their sexuality, even though countless studies show that teenage girls are emotionally unprepared to deal with sex. There was a time when you had to watch an “After School Special” or a “Very Special” episode of Blossom to get even get a mention of teenagers and sex. Only fringe networks like Fox had shows that turned high school girls into big-time whores [I mean, Kelly slept with Steve, Brandon, and Dylan during the course of the “original” 90210⁵]  Now, television and cable are littered with shows that show varying levels of teenage depravity, including a new 90210 [Apparently they had some leftover skanks].

More and more people’s lives are beginning to resemble Lindsey Lohan, and less and less like Melissa Joan Hart [I know, Sabrina is happily married with kids–A child actress who hasn’t gone to rehab…seems impossible].

Case and point, a blog I found on the front page of WP this morning: How To Destroy Your Relationship In Ten Boozy Hours. What is most disturbing about this blog is the comments section. People are all calling it cute. She smashes a beer bottle in a drunken, jealous rage because her boyfriend won’t “pay attention” to her and everybody glosses over just what kind of behavior this is. Somewhere, this behavior because absolutely acceptable in a social setting. 6

It leaves one annoying question: What can we do to get people to start cleaning up their junk?

I’ll get back to you later. Right now, I need to take out the Junk Can. I hope I didn’t put it in the recycle bin. [Check it out, someone wants to recycle the GPGP…some people never learn]

P.S.: Apparently, we have also joined forces with Eurotrash to create a similar place in the North Atlantic. And they say NATO is dead….

[http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/36551880/ns/world_news-world_environment/ ]

Footnotes:

1. This estimate is completely unscientific.
2. In between the time I drafted and posted this, I found out that yet another Tiger mistress is stripping for Playboy. It’s like I can predict behavior or something.³
3. Kind of like how JK and one other person predicted that honest, adult communication would make NDF’s head explode and she would bolt…hmmm…[details forthcoming in blog. COMING SOON, I SWEAR!]
4. I also ended a sentence with of…PLLLLLLLLLLLLLTTTT!!!!!!!
5. SLUT!
6. I actually tried to comment and her response was to call me “not fun” and “silly”. The best response is the person who said “I smell a virgin”…really, is that how people respond these days to comments they don’t like?  Check out the comments and let me know what you think.  Funny thing, she actually edited deleted two of my comments and edited one to say “your hot! date me?”…you really need to read them if you want a snapshot at what is wrong with the world.

WTF?!?: Hugh Hefner and signs of the apocalypse (extra blog)

If you don’t believe “junk” has contaminated our society, consider that Hugh Hefner is being held up as a voice of morality: “Hugh Hefner Slams Tiger Woods, Jesse James & Sex Addiction” . 1
While, certainly, by saying voice of morality, I am liberally using hyperbole. However, the simple fact that someone would print Hef’s opinion on Woods and James demonstrates how entrenched we have become our collective “Junk”.
We have truly reached the “Great Pacific Garbage Patch” of junk (to be posted later today).

Footnotes:
1. Dude, I didn’t “Denial Island” was at the Playboy Mansion!!! I’m so never NOT being in denial ever again!

Clutter Singlularity (Part next…): Recycling is Hazardous to Your Psyche

Junk-Recycling Center— Some people have grown so comfortable driving around in their junk truck, they actually begin to patrol the neighborhoods for other people’s junk cans, collect it, recycle them and add them to their collection of junk. These people become the central location for the collection of junk and, much like the junk truck, drag others into the rapidly growing gravitational well.

These are the people who not only ignore their junk, but doom themselves to repeat it by collecting the same junk, over and over and over again. I have one friend, for example [well, more than one friend, I think]¹ who has taken her husband back not once, but twice after leaving for another woman [It should be noted at this point that it was a different woman each time]. Now, had she dealt with her junk appropriately either time, he would have been left without a home to come back to [Yes, brain the size of a planet and I ended a sentence with ‘”to”]² Instead, she spent her nights drinking, chasing “younger” men, and screaming, very loudly [I’m OK. No really. I’M FINE. I LOVE MY LIFE AND BEING SINGLE].

So, when he came slinking back, she was ill prepared to say no and recycled her junk into a “new” relationship with her “same old” husband [you can substitute the words “dog” or “Tiger Woods” for husband, it’s OK]. Now, everyday on Facebook, without fail, it’s: TIGER AND I ARE GETTING CLOSER EVERYDAY. I LOVE MY LIFE SO MUCH. I HAVE MY KIDS AND A GREAT HUSBAND. I LOVE MY LIFE. [See upcoming blog: Just Because You Scream It, Doesn’t Make it True]³

Can anyone see the pattern developing here? How long will it be before he’s off with another woman, yet again? I mean, he managed to cheat on her in both Tennessee and Idaho. [The only thing those places have in common is the mean IQ score] But, he won’t suffer from temptation right? [This is like saying my ex-wife wouldn’t cheat now that we were married…oops..Yeah, I had to learn not to recycle my junk⁴].

We are doomed unless we recognize quickly what junk is susceptible to recycling, then dispose of it in the proper manner. Granted, it’s a trail-and-error process [mostly error at first] at figuring out what is and isn’t in the recycle bin. Sometimes it’s new recyclable junk that you weren’t even aware of. Other times, it’s you own damn fault [Like when someone labels themselves a “people pleaser” or “honest” and not noticing almost everything they do contradicts that (see upcoming blog: Believe the Opposite of Everything I Say About Myself)]

When these guys start showing up in your dreams, it's time to STOP recycling!

All of us, at one time or another, fall victim to recycled junk. Maybe we didn’t get our trophy for “Best Spitwad” in third grade⁵ and it haunts us to this day [Hence why you now attack your colleagues with Nerf rifles]. Or, maybe you got that trophy and now believe you deserve to be rewarded for absolutely everything without having to actually do anything, but fail to realize that, since almost everyone else thinks that way, you are pretty much screwed. [Most people do not think you are “special” because, frankly, they are the only ones who have the right to that title].

Ideally, we don’t want to be those people who keep repeating their past junk because, in this case, we are amassing a never-ending stream of new junk. In the end, we will just re-enact old junk in the context of new junk [Example: Hi, I have daddy issues and can’t seem to have a functional relationship⁶].

I welcome any guest blogs that might enlighten us on how to better recognize our recyclable junk [I can link to you or post it here]

Footnotes:

1. At least five actually, judging by my blog subscription list.
2. Two things: Allusion to Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy; also a PLLLLLLLTTTT to JK
3. THE BLOG IS WRITTEN AND WILL POST IT TOMORROW. I LOVE MY LIFE AND EVERY BLOG IN IT! WORDPRESS AND I ARE GROWING CLOSER EVERYDAY.
4. Still a work in progress.
5. I SWEAR YOUR TROPHY IS ON THE WAY. I LOVE MY LIFE AND EVERY TROPHY IN IT!
6. Or, “Hi, you have daddy issues…want to go on a date?”

The Clutter Singularity (part 3): Own your very own MJT!

For Sale: http://cgi.ebay.com/ebaymotors/2002-Volvo-Dempster-Front-Load-Garbage-Trash-Truck_W0QQcmdZViewItemQQhashZitem335c195a96QQitemZ220588497558QQptZCommercialQ5fTrucks [Scary that this cost less than my truck]

As I look down upon millions of people [No, I’m not God…I only play God on my iPhone], I find it comical that, with so many people around, few can find relationships that “work”. Those that do are often only “functional” and with little true happiness. One source of this has to be that too many people have moved to higher and higher levels of junk.

We’ve already discussed the first three junk levels where a person still has a reasonable chance of snapping out of it with a little help from others and/or developing awareness and insight into their own thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. However, as we move into the final three “junk levels”, we’ve reached a point where only serious external help will have any prolonged impact.

So, as I soar above the clouds [physically…mentally, my ego is not on planet Earth] and root against the Red Sox from 30,000 feet¹, let us look at our last three stages of junk.

Municipal Junk Truck – For some people, it’s not enough to have overflowing, rotting piles of junk at home. There are those among us who just have to carry our junk with us…everywhere and, when the opportunity arises, dump that junk on top of everyone else. This is not to be confused with people who need assistance [These are people at any of the first three levels of junk. A friend who just lost their job, for example]. Those people are, at least, mostly harmless. The MJT’s are people who constantly need to involve others in their junk and drag everyone into the growing vortex. And, they will dump this junk on anyone…this includes random strangers [we all have at least one experience with this person].

Now, this can be a temporary condition during a time of great strife.² However, there comes a point where what is being dumped has exceeded the smell limits of the average person’s olfactory nodes. [I have, sadly, been guilty of this and, to those friends still buried under the junk of 1999, 2000, 2005 (the ex-wife years), 2006, and 2008³, I have sent and excavation team has been dispatched and hopefully, they will dig you out soon]

Trasformer or not...it still smells!

People are often in full denial that they are driving around in their junk truck. In their psyche, it has been neatly disguised as a Bumblebee Camaro⁴. But, rest assured, every one of your friends and family can hear you coming from miles away. Example: “Oh, great. Here comes AR (Angry “R”) again,” you say to your immediate companion. “Crap, he’s spotted us.”  AR proceeds to come over complain non-stop about how women are bitches and how all women ever do is lie and cheat. This goes on for hours. All the while, he’s busy being crude and disgusting to any female inside a 50-mile radius [Thankfully, “Not Jerri Ryan” slapped him senseless one night. No, it didn’t shut him up, but it was funny to watch].⁵

At least when it’s someone you know,there is going to be a certain familiarity with the situation and, hopefully, how to handle it. With AR, for example, you learn to avoid prolonged exposure and decline his friend requests on Facebook. [I do recognize, however, that, sometimes, the MJT you know can provide a more difficult challenge. For example, best friend says “Hi, I’d like to introduce you to my mistress”⁶].

Total strangers drive “stealth” trucks. You can be minding your own business and, all of a sudden, you discover junk being dumped on you by a truck that snuck up while you weren’t looking. This can be truly disturbing:

Random Guy: How do you like the dog park?

Hot, Dog Park Girl: I love coming here. It’s so relaxing to get out with Boomer and let him run.

RG and HDPG have a casual, your kind of cute conversation, for the next minutes. She has no idea that his truck is parked off her left shoulder at a distance of about three inches. Then…

Random Guy: I…I…(He starts CRYING!!!)

HDPG: ?!?!?!?!?!?!

RG (now BAWLING!): I’m sorry. My parents just died. WAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

HDPG: ?!?!?!?!?!?!

RG: And…WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!

HDPG slowly backs away, prepping Boomer with the “Sick Balls” command.⁷

In retrospect, I think it should be perfectly permissible to exit that awkward moment at a full sprint, without explanation (Sort of..”Excuse me…” and VRRRRROOOOOOOOMMMMM).

Look, it's your pimped out Mercedes. Waiting just for you.

It often takes heavy therapy or an intervention to make someone “see” his/her truck. BBBBsdut, if you happen to be the one with the truck, then you need to be aware of something. Remember all of those times you’ve made fun of o  others who can’t handle their junk…guess what? That’s right…you have become the Amy Winehouse of your c ircle of friends.⁸ The question is, will you go to “Rehab” or will you just call it “Fuckery” and hop back into your “Mercedes”?

They keys are in the ignition.

NOTE: In the next installment, we learn to recycle our junk [Level 5] and then how our junk is responsible for Global Warming [Level 6].⁹

Footnotes:

1. If it was safe to spit on Kevin Youkilis from 30,000, I would in a heartbeat.
2. Someone said that this sentence is just a way to excuse my junk…yes, yes it is [TY again P and F].
3. Anyone who knows me knows that, within seconds of getting my heart broken, I have keys in hand and am firing up the ignition on my truck. Yes, a break-up is potentially temporary junk, but the behavior to talking about it incessantly is not.
4. I call mine an Avalanche and I swear it transforms.
5. AR has a bad tendency to tangle with hot, 22-year old Borg.
6. For the record, my best friend has never said this.
7. Oh, you haven’t seen Sandlot?!?!? Excuse me a moment [letting dog off leash]. “Chopper, SICK BALLS”
8. And, I think we can all agree that NOBODY wants to be Amy Winehouse.
9. I have taken a great liberty here of breaking this into smaller chunks. The reason…I want you to keep reading.

Passion Backfires: How to Get Your Very Own Stalker

“There is a fine line between serendipity and stalking.”

–David Coleman

Upon consulting the five love languages, I was not at all shocked that my two primary languages are “Physical Touch” and “Words of Affirmation.” I’m sure you can already tell that I am one verbose MF. ¹ What you probably don’t know is that I put the same care and dedication into passionate endeavors. The dedication to my words is the same dedication I use in the touch and pleasuring of a woman. [Whether it works or not if for the woman to decide]²

"EEEEH What's up psycho hosebeast?"

Now, I suppose there is a boat load of ways to gain a stalker or two, but I’ve noticed that my particular “Love Language” seems to lend itself an unhealthy obsession from some women, especially those used to” Mr. You Can Get Yours Watching the Food Network When We Are Done”. Over the unabashed asshole years³, more than one woman that I fucked over kept coming back for the sex. A few became a little more avid with their affections [We are talking borderline boiling rabbit in a pot obsessed].

Take “The 11-Year Itch” [EYI}, the quintessential example of what I’m talking about. My interactions with EYI can be summed up by the following pattern: Call her up for a date; pick her up; drive her to a parking spot in a dark place; spend the next two hours passionately seducing her and pleasing her to the brink of what she could handle [This is all self-serving because I enjoy doing it]; drive her back home; call her again in a few weeks or even, in some cases, months. I never once bought her as much as a Slurpee on any of our “dates.”⁴ [According to DB Monthly (not a real magazine), you actually need to purchase a Slurpee and an ice-cream sandwich for it to be considered a date]

Eventually, I had gotten into enough trouble with girlfriends I was cheating on that I stopped calling her [I make no qualms about being an absolute dousche at various periods of my life, see footnote 3]. Flash forward eleven years. I was married at this point and visitewd the local coffeehouse to socialize and play games with some friends. One night, I sat next to a friend of mine, UCV [“Under Control” V], and looked up to see EYI sitting there. Her eyes grew wide when she saw me. The words “OH” and “SHIT” come to mind.

She started asking all sorts of questions about my personal life, probing to see if my ex-wife and I had broken up yet. The “Crazy Train” here goes without saying [But notice, I’m shamelessly plugging a previous blog].

Interestingly enough, she had a boyfriend, not that you would notice of course. He was invisible. No, not imaginary [Though, in her case, I wouldn’t have been shocked]. But, when she saw me, the whole world absolutely vanished and her focus was on me. It was comical really. In her eyes, he no longer existed. She even asked, “Could you get my phone out of the car. I don’t remember it and I want to give it to him.” [Now, before you feel sorry for this guy, you should know that, as of this blog, he has been in jail at least seven separate times].

I didn’t call her, but temptation was there. No, not to sleep with her [Infidelity was my ex-wife’s department]. I was tempted to walk up to him and say, “You know, I could take her home and fuck her right now and your sorry ass would have to walk home.” Largely because I didn’t like him and, well, mostly because I could. ⁵

Of course, I never called her.

But they both have fur...right! RIGHT?!?

Two years pass and guess who popped up on MySpace looking for a friend. Well, she was looking for more than a friend. Turns out, things were horrible with her boyfriend and she wanted to know, if she broke up with him, if we could be together and she missed me so much. According to her, I was the best thing that ever happened to her and she was a fool to let me go [Revisionist history anyone?]. I tried a different approach this time and tried to scare her away by saying I was into some crazy, kinky shit. She was undeterred by this [actually she ignored it all together]. “We have so much in common,” she wrote. “We both have kids, we both like sex.” [Wow, if that were all it took, e-harmony wouldn’t have any business].⁶

I’m sure if I had said, “I think you are a psychotic hosebeast,” she would have probably called it a cute nickname.

All of this could have been prevented if I had been 5-minute, all about me guy in the front seat [I only take classy girls to the backseat]⁷. I mean seriously, what woman stalks that guy? What woman remembers him even a year later?

Last I heard, she is finally getting married to her boyfriend [he’s actually been out of jail for more than two months now] and is pregnant [The baby is destined to have the IQ of a brick]. Maybe she’s finally given up…though, somehow, I doubt it.

Footnotes:

1. Seriously, I just won’t shut up.
2. I’ve heard rumors to the effect that most men don’t take care of a woman’s needs and even more rumor that I may not be one of them.
3. The exact years of this time period vary from the day I was born to present day [depending on who you ask].
4. I did at least opt against the Tom Likus approach, which is make her buy me a Slurpee. Hey, at least I some sense of ethics.
5. Can anyone say, “I’m a giant whale penis?”
6. Some things we also had in common: breathing; hair; dreams [the ability to, not hopes and goals]; a name that starts with a consonant; the letter ‘I’ .
7. That is clearly a lie.

PS: Clutter Singularity Part will be published in the next 24-48 hours

Update: Quick Note to Readers

Just as an FYI, I will be posting again soon. I am taking care of a couple responsibilities. I’ll be writing later. I have plenty to say. 🙂

See you soon,

The Teacher

The Clutter Singularity (part 2): Baggage, Trash Cans, and Other Junkmeres

“He brings stuff out, so he can have room to organize things. Then he throws the junk out, and moves the other stuff back in.”

–Dan May

For those of you who have been waiting, here are the first three levels of junk:

Carry-on Baggage of Junk – We all have some level of junk that clutters how we communicate, think and interact with the world around us. So, there has to be a designation for the amount of junk which seems normal for a person to have. This level of junk is “tolerable”. It’s the kind of junk you can overlook because the other person has so many other amazing qualities and the junk does little to interfere.

For example, if I believe the hypothesis that all women are crazy [Trust me, they are], then this is what we call “Cute Crazy.” My best friend NE’s wife clearly falls into this category of junk. She’s the first to admit that she has AWS [Attention Whore Syndrome] and that her gender is plum loco. But she’s a very sweet crazy that my best friend finds endearing. Part of it must be that she has a good awareness of what her junk is and has been busy sloughing off excess junk (It’s amazing how you can get rid of junk, when you work on it. Part 4 will highlight how people can do this).

Awareness is the key to reducing and maintaining the amount of junk to this desirable level. But, that requires personal responsibility, which, we already know is in short supply. [Responsibility + Modern Interpretation = Someone else’s job]. Thus, the population at this level of junk is relatively small and, I think, dwindling by the hour.¹

Out of sight, out of mind. RIGHT?!?!

To my knowledge, I have never dated a woman who has only had this amount of junk. Sigh…A man can dream. [This may say a lot more about me than I would like to admit]². I would thank God every day if I could marry a woman who had so little junk. [Apparently, 99% of men would be happy with this. Of the women surveyed, they overwhelmingly agreed that this was still too much junk].³

Single, City Junk Can – When the junk gets to abundant that a carry-on bag is insufficient to carry it, it must end up in being stored someplace where it is, usually, out of sight, out of mind. However, for this to still be a functional level of junk, there has to be a regular emptying of the can. Ideally, a person seeks a proper outlet to get help in cleaning out their junk.

A therapist, for example, is a good resource to help a person debrief and dispose of junk in the proper receptacles. A friend or family member can also be a useful resource [That is, if they understand the definition of those terms (See upcoming blog called: Eew, You Dripped a Little Sadness and Disappointment on Me)]

This is what most often happens with “new” junk or “temporary” junk. The other night, for example, I was dealing with some relatively new junk involving my father’s overall health and my status as an employee next September [Also in ailing health]. As such, my junk can was overflowing and I knew I needed a few people to help me identify, let go, and remove the junk [again, refer to part 4 for further details]. That night, I had a few acquaintances⁴ ask about me and took a genuine interest in providing a little comfort, which can go a long way to help someone deal with temporary junk. After talking to a few friends the next morning and hitting a few softballs, my junk had been disposed of properly [In fact, talking to JK exposed some junk that was “hidden” behind the trashcan from a couple of years ago. I recognized it and also disposed of it as well].

Notice the key point here is AWARENESS that the junk exists, embracing it, and taking proactive steps to dispose of it. I could affect the junk level in my life because I took responsibility for its cleanup. More and more people in our society have a different set of expectations for their junk “pick up.”

Because we have embraced a culture of entitlement, victimization of ourselves, and blaming others, many of us expect other people to clean up the junk for us. “It’s a City Junk Can right? It’s the city’s job to pick up my junk.” While, this may work for curbside trash pickup, I can assure you that they don’t pick up your junk, unless you call them and ask for their help. [Imagine that, you have to admit to your junk and ask for help…and there’s nothing wrong with calling College Hunks Hauling Junk (Yes, this is an actual company)]⁵⁶

As a result, people often are “waiting” for someone to pick up their junk long after the can is full. Eventually, this junk will begin to rot and smell, which makes the clean up a longer process. While this will not arbitrarily guarantee a trip on the “Crazy Train” (Click link for details), an unchecked pileup of junk may hasten the departure to the higher levels of junk to a lead time of about four hours…or, in some cases, four months.

When he shows up at your yard sale, you know you have some SERIOUS JUNK!

Personal Junk Storage Unit (The Clean House Event Horizon)—There comes a point where the junk gains enough mass that it begins to collapse on itself, tugging gently on all of those people in an immediate radius. This occurs when the junk build up is the result of clutter a person has been continually storing and hanging onto to for months, years, decades. Often times, some of this clutter ends up in the back of closets, basements, and personal storage units. Out of sight, out of mind right [and the further you’ve repressed it, the better]

This occurs because a person has not cleaned out their City Junk Can regularly and are still waiting for someone else to do it. While there is hope for clean up, it can only be obtained via therapy, friends, family, and the key…AWARENESS. There is still time, but it is limited because, as it passes, a person runs the risk of dropping past the event horizon and into the black hole where they spiral rapidly toward the higher levels of junk. At this point, even the Clean House team may not be able to effectively remove all of the clutter [I would be very frightened to see what is available at some psychological “yard sales”].

PJSU Example: Imagine a person who recently exited an unhealthy relationship, moved to a new place, started a new job, gave much of her social support network, and lost her father, all in the period of the last year. Yeah, that’s some serious junk that has compounded over a period of time, if one doesn’t handle it appropriately, that is.

Junk Awareness is what can motivate our example to dial 1-800-JUNKHUNK [not the actual number]. People who are unaware or in denial will not, and may never, dial. They are constantly telling themselves, “Everyone else has the problem. I don’t have one. I know full well who I am.” This person may even seem functional in most areas of their lives; but, inside, they are always stumbling over the junk they have acquired. As an outside observer, this can be an amusing comedy of errors. [Most standup comedians make a career out of selling this junk]⁷. To those within the inner circle, however, it can be a periodic junkmare that lashes out with fangs and claws. While not lethal, this junk attack is often draining and scarring on those who fall victim to these outbursts.

Nothing is more awkward than when one of these junkmares shows up at the worst possible moment, like the middle of having sex…

Girl, who is now crying: “I’m sorry. I need to stop. I was fine until I got on top of you. It reminded me of my ex-boyfriend [with whom she had been broken up with for months]. I miss him so much. WAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!

Half-naked me, moving back to my side of the car: ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Car stereo: GOING OFF THE RAILS ON A CRAZY TRAIN!⁸

These junkmere’s aren’t just limited to intimate encounters, however. In fact, often times, we have friendships that can be a walking junkmere. These people are sometimes the Eeyore in our lives, always draining their friends with their “junk.” They will ask, “How was your day?,” then proceed to interrupt and spend the rest of the conversation talking about their “junk.” The problem is, they never have a “good” day or there is always “drama” in their lives.

I had a friend, who we called Eeyore, who was going through a rough time. With a little help, he could have sorted through the junk in his life and made it through, a little stronger for the experience. Sadly, he opted for alcohol and bar fights…He was on the fast track to owning his own Municpal Junk Truck (MJT and the other two levels of junk will be featured in the next installment).

Uh oh...He spotted us. Drop his junk and RUN!!!

Footnotes:

1. Some say by the minute. Others argue, it’s already gone.
2. This is a troubling idiom. I claim to not like admitting to it, then freely admit to it there. So, maybe I like admitting it?!?!
3. No such survey was conducted, however, we all know it’s based on actual truth.
4. For me, defined as people I only see at IC, at the gym, or on Facebook. It was nice of you to ask if I was doing OK. Thanks for asking.
5. Sadly, there is no Hot Babe Junk Hauling. However, I’m a little scared of the women that might be on the truck.
6. Therapists are not “automatic” junk haulers, as most people believe. If they were, they would be worshiped like Rockstars…Oh to dream.
7. And, for that matter, this blog. Are you listening Maxim magazine? I have plenty of junk to share!!!
8. I so wish I was making this up.