Frozen Ass Balls

I fail a lot.  At all kinds of things.

I break things, forget them, I'm late...

It would be a flat-out lie to say that I succeed as much as I fail, because I don't.  

Not even close.  No one does.

Think of how many times you failed to balance before you learned to ride a bike... 

How many swings did you take before you hit the ball?  

How many freakish, misshapen, frozen ass balls did you create
before finally building a decent snowman?  

Failure has become my friend.   

I spend more time with him than anyone, so why not embrace him?

He's a non-judgmental, jovial rogue who supports me, by, as the kids say:
Keepin' it real.

He doesn't care what kind of day I'm having, or how much I may need a win that month...

He doesn't keep score, and he'll never, ever stop.

Sure, when I think I'm heading towards lovely lady success,

It can be jarring, or downright depressing, 

to come face-to-face with the cosmic Ashton Kutcher springing out from behind a shrub, but...

What am I going to do?

Stand still so he doesn't see me?  

Hide from everyone, so I don't come across anyone? 

Nope.  I don't fear failure because I'm so familiar with him.  

And that, my friends, is the secret he doesn't want you to know.  

It takes the fun out of his job.  Takes the mystique out of the man behind the curtain,

And puts the power to try back where it belongs...

With your desire.