I will never get laid in I.V. again.

No really, it’s just not going to happen.

It’s OK, I’m not too worried about it. Because the following argument is the same as dumping the check on your date. It’s forgetting to open doors or admitting that you’re just in it for the sex. I am burning my bridge into the world of Isla Vista’s lovely ladies. Because the easiest way to piss a girl off is to talk shit about “Sex and the City.”

I guess that’s just how badass the HBO hit “Entourage” is.

I will sacrifice my entire sexual life for the next year, only to proclaim my love for “Entourage.” I do this just for you, Ari.

Honestly, my experience with “Sex and the City” is less than well-versed. I saw a half an hour of it one time. Honestly – and this one is to you, God – I want that half an hour of my life back. You give it, and you taketh away.

Fuck that show. That shit sucks.

“Entourage” is hot, “Sex and the City” is not.

The underlying theme I caught from “Sex and the City,” was just a couple of classy New York ladies that are gold-digging, cosmo-sipping, grade school gossipers. Lame and far too idealistic.

I am far more entertained by Turtle taking bongloads and sipping Budweiser than some broad who can’t get laid without her hubby getting off on porno in the background.

Not impressed. “Entourage” reflects the American Dream for the college-aged crowd.

Yes, I want to do it with Mandy Moore. Yes, I wish I was rich. Yes, I like beer. Yes, Ari is my goddamned hero. Ari is a man’s man. Yes, “Entourage” is the shit; this, by the way, coming from the most apathetic TV watcher you will ever meet.

What? You have a problem? Don’t agree?

It’s cool. Oh yeah, your girlfriend? In the copy room, she offered to blow me.

True story.

Daily Nexus sports editor Sean Swaby will never go 40 days and 40 nights without Entourage.