The daily adventures and travails of one neurotic, klutzy, hungry, cynical college girl. Tune in for prizes! (offer void where prohibited. See office for details. Not responsible for lost articles.)
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
|
|
| |
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Things that won't get you laid
1. Spit in public.
Yeah, that's real sexy. Jerk. Your globule of saliva, phlegm, and germs are now glistening on the street for all of us to enjoy. Ah, let the essence of your foul and contagious spirit be released into the air so that we can all breathe it in. I venture to say that I'll more likely get sick from this than from touching a hundred bathroom door knobs. And I know guys don't wash their hands. But I'm willing to suspend my disbelief, if you just play along. Don't let me SEE how utterly sloppy and gross you really are. Save that for the honeymoon, champ.
2. Call us fat. Just kidding, phat!
You, sir, are no Dane Cook. I know you think you are, cause you regularly crack your roommates up. But those guys are cracking up harder when you land on your face on a pile of dog feces in an abandoned alley after an all night binge fest. Stop trying to win us over with your "charm," which is what you consider that cringe-worthy litany of insults seguing into jokes, or graphic innuendos thinly veiled as compliments, or stories that you stole from guys we'd rather bone than you. And don't bother bristling and telling me that your routine has gotten you laid hundreds of times. We'll buy anything when we're drunk and horny. Think of all the fuglies you woke up to, after a night out. Yeah. You're the fugly.
3. Cry, you pansy ass.
It doesn't sound nice for me to say this, but it's how I feel. Nothing turns me off faster than seeing a grown man weep from his emotions running over. When we asked you to be a little more sensitive, we meant buy us better gifts, asshole. We didn't mean soak a hanky over the fact that your dad never respects you. YEAH. I can imagine the delight he'll experience knowing you're currently sobbing in front of the girl you're trying to impress. I'm not evil. You can cry in the shower, at your mother's funeral, and at your wedding. But not in front of me. I might look sympathetic, but I'm mentally dressing you back up into a straightjacket and looking over your shoulder for an escape route. I wanted someone to pull my hair, not braid it.
4. Get caught
Okay, I know. Girls are just better at lying. We've been trained since childhood to evade the truth to get more, see more, and do more. We lie to boys, to family, to friends, and even ourselves. But like all faults and vices, we don't want it reflected back to us. So, for God's sake, stop being so incompetent. If you're going to cover something up, and it really matters to you to not be found out, DO YOUR HOMEWORK. Trace your steps and visit every scenario. Have a back up plan. If you're not ready, then face the music, pal. You're doomed to start with, anyway.
5. Talk shit about anyone.
Our friends. You're a fucktard if you try to insult the mob that's trying to joust you from my life. They're just waiting for you to fuck up, so we can go back to being a crowd of singles, wasting away our youth together. There are more of them, than one of you, so good luck trying to fight that battle. How confident are you that I'll give up my support system for one penis?
Our family. Yeah, I call my dad an evil, closed robot. I call my mom a nagging muppet. I call my sister a slutty snoop of a shrew. (Not me, i love you guys. This is FICTION.) But the minute I hear you even agree with my irrational rants, I'm going to picture you during the holidays, drunk and violent, screaming about how I ruined your life and turned into my mother. I'm just as appetized over that image as you are.
Your family. Everything you say about your family will be scrutinized as your future with me. So, even if you don't bad mouth your mother (disrepect for women) or father (compensator of manhood), you might still give us the wrong impression when you gush about your mother (mama's boy) or your father (womanizer). I broke up with someone shortly after seeing him yell at his sister. I think my pupils shrunk.
Your friends. You are retarded.
Coworkers. You're cheating on me, or you're about to commit a felony.
Strangers. You're soulless. And you're still not funny.
There's no end to things guys do that make us turn away, refuse the drink, or pretend our gay best friend is our boyfriend. Best strategy to get us to go home with you? Be hot. Seriously. 9 out of 10 bartenders will back me up. The 10th bartender is mad that I didn't go home with him. But he's not hot. See? It's just logical. And I know logic. I took a course in college.
(That I failed. But not for lack of understanding. I walked out of the final 10 mins into it, cause I had to pee. They wouldn't let me back in.)
10:28 AM
|
|
| |
|
|
|
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home