As much as I enjoy helping, I'm drunk. Not stumbling drunk.  Just enough to start asking dumb questions.

Are all excessive self-voters drunk?

^{Why hasn't anyone asked that question before?}

I don't know about you, but I like to self-vote my posts.  I drop that nasty demon directly on my work at or around the fifteen minute mark.  Anyone who voted before that gets a nice little boost in the curation reward department.  Lucky them.

I limit myself to one post per day, sometimes but rarely two.  I simply don't have enough time to be able to produce more than that.  Creating every image takes many hours, I try to think before I write, and I prefer to give people a nice show.  Then sometimes I'll be slack as fuck but don't kill me for I do not yell at you when you're asleep so why yell at me when I'm asleep?

Rambler posts can be quite interesting at times.

^{I thought I was talking about a drunken self-voting rampage from hell.}

I better at least finish that thought.

I'd simply scroll down my outgoing list of comments far enough where nobody can see me, tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap (and so on), STEEM all over myself; done.

^Steemen

One minute is all I need.

But who would clean up the mess?  How would I explain this in the morning?

I better not do it.

^{Maybe if I actually publish this post, I'll earn more.}

See!  Now I'm thinking like a good Steemian.  Those life lessons I read on the trending page must finally be working.  It's no wonder that book sells for $300 per page.

I should write a page for a self-help book!

Chapter One

Once upon a time,

^{I fucked up.}

It took me several years to unfuck my life but I finally did it.

Now, I teach you how.

First, you must dig deep inside of yourself and pull out the madness from within.  Once strangled, hang it up on the clothesline and beat it with a broom until it's dead; then sell it on the dark web as a mystery box.

That was how I made my first million.

I then met my ex-wife and her cocaine addiction I did not know about until it was too late.

I had arrived at my house one day after a grueling tennis match with the mayor of my village.  I was supposed to be home at noon but I was early because that man's serve is like comets raining down from the heavens and his return is a vengeful tiger.  I may have been defeated but I was still thirsty for more of life's lessons.

I will get my revenge someday, Mr. Mayor.

I went upstairs to the bedroom because I needed to change my sweaty underwear.

Once naked I noticed a strange lump on the blankets so I pushed down upon it with all of my might.

A successful man does not tolerate a messy bed.

I pressed and I pulled and I pushed and I tugged and I jerked; nothing seemed to work but I am not one to back down from a challenge.

After about one minute of further rearrangements, I heard the sudden moan I will never forget and noticed a wet spot growing larger by the second.  I then heard a gasp behind me so I quickly turned around.

There was my wife; naked, covered in the cocaine powder, jaw on the floor, standing near the bedroom bathroom door. I then looked back at the bed and saw Charlie the pool cleaner very naked and covered in goop.

Within seconds my wife started filling up her suitcase with all she could throw.

She left me because I had inadvertently given another man a hand job; right in front of her.

I was devastated.

^{How does one even prepare for something like that?}

Three days later her cocaine dealer came knocking on my front door.

Before I could say a word in defense, his gun was pushing up against my nuts and he said, "Your wife, she owe me the money."

I said, "Please sir, do not do me the harm. I am not your enemy."

I woke up four days later in the hospital with an empty bank account and only one testicle.

I had lost everyone and everything.  To be honest, that was the first time I ever got burned in a business deal; but it won't be the last.

So stay tuned for page two of my journey towards helping you become me:

Mr. Success

Oh Yeah

^{I got this.}

I'd say that self-help book page is easily worth $800, maybe even $1000!

I don't know though.  I'm having second thoughts.

Maybe in chapter two I'll talk about how thinking will only hold you back.

Hmm.  This is actually harder than it looks.

Maybe I'll just stick to being a jackass with fancy pictures.

I'm not even drunk anymore.  Writing this post was the opposite of beer.  How in the hell did that happen?

Who's up for a lazy ending?

Me!

Credits: _{All art and images seen here were produced digitally, by me. "That there be how you right an 'R' tickle."}

^{© 2018 @NoNamesLeftToUse.  All rights reserved.}