August 16 - Abusing Yourself To Death

The worst thing about accidentally killing yourself while masturbating is that you have to talk about it every time you meet someone new in the afterlife. Seriously, man. Every time. "How'd you die?" is pretty much the "What's your major?" or "What do you do?" of the afterlife, and I can't even begin to tell you how bad it sucks having to tell people the same story again and again and again, especially since the story will never change. You can switch majors or change careers, but you only ever die once.
Here's how the conversation usually goes: I was in Atlanta on business. By myself (duh). And after dinner I felt like having a wank, but not just any wank. I wanted it to be extra intense, so I got myself set up in the closet for the old autoerotic asphyxiation thing . . . right, just like the guy from INXS . . . and anyway things got carried away and I didn't stop in time and . . . What's that? No, surprisingly, I had not been drinking . . . No, I'd done it before . . . A couple of times . . . Yeah, it actually is--was--very intense . . . Yeah, you're right. I probably should have had a spotter . . . No, I'm single--was single . . . What's that? Oh, Angelina Jolie. Tomb Raider was on Skinemax.
The worst is when someone asks you how you died, and you tell them autoerotic asphyxiation, thinking that will be the end of it, but then they don't know what that is and then you have to explain it to them.
The first time that happened was during one of the orientation sessions when I first arrived here. They had about 20 of us in a circle, and we had to take turns saying our names, where we were from, how we'd died, and one of our proudest accomplishments from our time on earth. Anyway, it got to me and I said autoerotic asphyxiation and tried to move on to my proudest accomplishment, but then a bunch of other people in the circle didn't know what I was talking about. And then after I explained it they just kind of looked at me with sympathy. It would've been better if they'd made fun of me or something, but instead they just looked down at the floor awkwardly. I'm pretty sure I heard one of them say something like, "His poor mother."
Yeah, no kidding his poor mother. Speaking of which, I'm guessing that a parent seeing his or her kid in the afterlife is pretty much the definition of bittersweet. Of course it's great to see them again, but, well, they're dead, you know? And of course when I saw my mom we didn't talk about that, but I know she knew.
They've tried to start support groups for guys like me who have died in stupid and embarrassing ways, but nobody ever goes to them. I guess they're all OK with it, the guys who died stupid deaths. There are a lot of them, by the way. You know the Darwin Awards for people that died in the most idiotic ways imaginable? Apparently, those must be really competitive awards, because there are some total morons here. And this is coming from the guy who choked to death while masturbating to (a not even naked) Angelina Jolie.
By the way, I'm pretty sure that's my identity here, because how you died totally defines how people look at you here. Like, I know this one guy who was a fireman. Dude bought it while saving a baby from a fire in some apartment building. Can you believe that? It's like the ultimate hero cliche. And that's the first impression everyone has of him is: hero. The first impression everyone has of me? Incompetent wanker.