If Elected President, Work-Related Masturbatory Mishaps Will Be Covered!!

Beginning this past Sunday, July 27th through Wednesday August 6th, I am working every day but one.

Yepperdoodle, I am working 10 out of those 11 days.

And that is in addition to supplying you with a daily dose of incredibly banal blatherings humorous observations, bon mots, and satirical insight.

What’s the Matt-Man to do?

More importantly…what will I be missing? Well, let me tell ya.

First and foremost, Sex!!

Schmoop comes home at around 4:40 P.M. and I go in at 5. By the time I get home, she is usually asleep.

Over these 11 days I will only really see her this Thursday. WTF?

In my book, it takes 10 masturbation sessions to equal 1 session of real sex with an actual person.

Let’s say her and I over an 11 day period, typically have sex seven times. Subtract at least one sexual encounter this Thursday, and I am still out six coital conferences.

That means between now and August 6th, I am going to have to stroke off the Bagwine Boner 60 times to make up for the shortfall.

When I wake up August 7th , my wanker is going to be a piece of gnarled flesh looking remarkably similar to a rotted Horseradish root or the blighted branch of a Contorted Filbert.

And my palm!! There won’t be enough Aloe in the world to soothe my blistered and arthritic Matt-Manus.

(Although telling people that my bloody palms are a result of stigmata, would be kind of fun. I just won’t tell them exactly what I was worshipping when it happened.)

Secondly, I only have one day when I can cook. I love to cook. It’s fun, relaxing, and most of all, when I do cook for Schmoop, it nearly always leads to SEX!!

I should demand compensation from my employer for my lost sexcapades and soon to be damaged dork.

But what could he offer to relieve me of my damages? Bagwine, beer, a bag of chips?

Well, when I drink Bagwine and/or beer I get horny...

I won’t be able to have sex for awhile because of the painful, penile protrusions due to the copious amounts of masturbation.

The bag of chips? I don’t think that handling salty potato chips with a bloody and blistered hand is such a good idea. Do you?

Boy, I just don’t know. Any suggestions? C’mon folks, throw me a bone here. D’oh, I said “bone”. Damn.

I have to figure something out.

Have a great Tuesday, all.

Cheers!!