If you're like me, you've been logging onto Playboy.com constantly for one reason and one reason only: so you don't miss a word of Jordan Farmar's blog. And if you caught the last installment, you got to read the Lakers' Guard complaining about how in his days at UCLA so many hot co-eds wanted to do him sexual favors that he had to move off campus to get the peace and tranquility every young, famous athlete craves:

UCLA has a lot of beautiful girls, including their cheerleaders. And female fans’ attention is part of the life on campus, and it’s all good. You’re young, you’re doing what you love and you get attention from girls and everyone else, ’cause they all know who you are. So it’s nice when girls give you that attention. But sometimes, the girls and fans can get a little pushy. You know how I am, I’m real low-key. I moved off campus my second year, so I’d just go to class and practice.

Groupies are always part of campus life and it’s something you have to watch out for. Girls used to come to our dorm room all the time, knocking on our door, leaving off notes and propositions.... They know all your stats, your personal info, where you’re from, they’ve Googled you. It’s crazy how they know you in and out... And you get some invasion of privacy, like I said, they’re knocking on your door, all the time... Most freshman and sometimes sophomores stay on campus, so they’re the ones getting hit on. Hey, if that’s what you want, that’s cool. But as you get older, as things get more serious about a possible pro career, you move off.

So true, Jordan, so very, very true. That crap where hot UCLA cheerleaders are throwing themselves at you might be all well and good when you're a Freshman or Sophomore, but once you get to be an Upperclassman, you mature and your needs change and you don't want all that easy sex with impossibly good looking coeds. I know I speak for all the Barstool writers when I say it's great to have the models knocking on your door at all hours of the night, leaving notes and saying they know everything you've written and they really want to have sex with you because they're such big fans. But after the first few hundred times, you just want to be left alone to search for Red Sox trade rumors in peace.

Excuse me now while I go stick my head in the oven. But not until I throw my kids school books in the trash and hand him a basketball.