“Too much time on a man’s hands means too much time with his wiener.” -Adam Carolla

Yeah, I said it.

…and it’s awesome.

No wonder successful businessman’s wives cheat on them with the pool boy, you’re too preoccupied making money to fuck. Even if you aren’t making money, you’re busy. Everyday is already planned and requires an appointment.

I’m now cock-blocked by 2 jobs and school. What a bunch of assholes, come at me, bro.

I’m sleepy now. I start my day at 7am and end at 10pm, and I love it. Social media checking has went down in viewing, I’m days behind on Twitter. I’m still reading tweets about the Oscars.

This is what it feels like to be grown up? To pay your bills on time? Having money to eat? Go shopping? Gas? No time for booty. I can fill up my tank, but not my girlfriend.

So, how will I screw up this new-found success? Because I am already starting to miss the daily game I used to play each morning called, “Find the least crunchy sock to wear.”

I miss fucking.

When your car’s empty gas-light is on, usually your wiener is also. The two are related and I will dedicate my life’s work to prove it. You may think I’m exaggerating my metaphor a bit for shock value, but have you ever had a whole Sunday off with nothing to do? By the time it’s noon my junk looks so roughed up you’d think it left a Grammy party with Chris Brown.

A release is an important thing to remember, no matter how busy a person gets. I just don’t want to get so busy that I get vagina amnesia, or as I would call it, Balls-heimers.

So, when does this end? I have a knack for fucking up a winning streak. I’ll drop the ball. I’ll trip at the finish line. I’ll pull out too late. After 28 years I think I know that I can’t handle too much of a good thing.

How will it happen though? Will it happen?

Someone’s financial and personal success shouldn’t impact how many times a week they have to wash their sheets.