-The other day I talked to my old friend Kenny for the first time in a while and he sounded unusually upbeat.  He’s had some tough times and a little bit of financial trouble lately, but now he was optimistic, happy, and, well, giddy, on the phone.  I asked him what was up.  He said that he had been reading this book that talked all about achieving your goals and having faith in God and believing in yourself and that it really had affected him.  A little skeptical, I said, “Wow, uh, that’s great man.”  Then Kenny said, “Yeah, and I also met this chick.”  Ah ha!  So that’s really what it was!  I knew it couldn’t have been some stupid book.  Because for twentysomething guys, money may be the root of all evil, but sex is still the root of all happiness.

-Sometimes guys’ obsession with sex puts us in unenviable positions.  Once, back in my Wall Street days, I was sitting through an interminable meeting and my mind kept drifting to a dirty, dirty place.  When the meeting ended, I snapped back to consciousness and started to get up.  And that’s when I noticed I had a massive erection.  I couldn’t stand in the condition I was in.  First, I tried the age-old guy trick of tucking my junk into the elastic waistband of my boxers.  When that didn’t work, I improvised.  I jammed my hands into my pockets, manually restrained my babymaker, and skulked out of the room backwards while nodding to everyone like a Japanese businessman.

-Ever notice that sex is the only loud noise that you won’t tell someone in another room to quiet down?

-My late-night decision-making is questionable at best.  For instance, once I met a chick at a bar who I thought was pretty cute.  She was kind of a wideclops (her eyes were a little too far apart), but besides that she was fine.  We went back to my place and we did our thing (though in my drunken state I couldn’t quite recapture that Wall Street rigidity).  When I woke up in the morning, Wideclops was still there.  Staring at me.  (Though I could really only look her in the eye one at a time.)  We exchanged pleasantries and got dressed.  But she didn’t leave.  I went out to grab food and came back.  She was still there.  Then I started to concoct arduous tasks that I needed to do that day in order to try to get rid of her (“Um, I really need to wash the windows.”).  She offered to help.  I got in the shower.  She joined me.  It was absurd – a classic case of sexual loitering.  Finally, she left at like 8pm.  I’m not even kidding.  It was a 24-hour one-night stand!