Please….shut up already, you leech, you vampire, you succubus. I can feel you draining all of my optimistic soul with your chronic complaining and pessimism. Yes life is a struggle, I get it. Just stop talking about how miserable your life is and DO something about it.
I have my own issues to contend with. I’m making positive strides forward, then you come along with your black cloud of mope and despair overcasting my day. Fortunately, I have one of those pro golf sized “mental umbrellas” to keep me dry from your gale force tirades of drama. Spare me your relationship episodes, you’re not David Duchovny on Californication. I could care less about how your wife emasculates you….wait, what did you call it, “she’s assertive and likes wearing the pants” so instead of watching the playoffs Sunday afternoon, you’re down at the flea market shopping for discounted trinkets and bootleg romantic comedy dvd’s.
The next person to attempt to trample one of my good spirited days with their “cup is almost empty” demeanor, deserves a Rick James to Charlie Murphy open handed slap. Seriously. I’m on a mission. Because your train derailed, you want to plant bombs on my tracks? If life is sooooo bad, give up. Stop trying. Kill yourself. More food for us. Still here? Pussy…or is it that your life isn’t that bad afterall huh?
The next step isn’t so easy. Depressing people travel in packs, infecting others like a virus adding to the collective. You have got to break away from the other crabs if you want to change your mindset. And don’t think they won’t notice. “why’d you stop calling? oh, you too good to hang with us now? Hey I just wrecked my car for the 3rd time can I get a ride? Hey girl, so and so was talking about you. I just wanted to let you know. What’s up man, I just quit my bullshit job. Naw, I ain’t got nothing lined up just yet tho…mind if I hang out for a few days?”
Good luck escaping. If you did manage to escape, your circle is extremely smaller now isn’t it? Google+ won’t be happy (lol if you don’t get that it’s ok, the joke wasn’t for you).
I had an intellectual discussion with a good friend of mine last night until 3am. It’s amazing what conversations stem from Grand Marnier and blue mist hookahs….I digress, where was I? One topic involved goals, aspirations, and the means to reach them. Have you met yours? what prevented you? what’s stopping you now? At what point do you concede? the conclusion obviously, is that the infrastructure of any goal you set forth is planning. Then it hit me like a ton a bricks. 35-40% of the people I knew, didn’t plan for shit. Most of them are already out of my life, the few remaining handful will probably become case studies for this blog in the near future.
It’s 2012 people. time to become extremely independent and get off the teat. Bad things will happen soon. PLAN AHEAD.(damn have I been infected by the cynics?) Time to develop some survivalist skills just in case of some post apocalyptic scenario. I recommend the three H’s. Hunting, Horticulture and Whoring…yes yes I know, I know. It was just fun to say.
Through playing with y’all.
I feel you Aretha. Without respect, a man isn’t one. Lack of it will always lead to a disastrous conclusion. Me? I’d take respect over fame and money anything day of the week.
So. What exactly is the correct path to follow when there’s a personal affront to your manhood? Wisdom dictates removing yourself from said situation. Easy if the assailant is a complete stranger, not so easy if you’ve known the individual for awhile and their viewpoint of you has changed for whatever reason. A little tougher if it’s a long time friend or family member.
Yeah, you can communicate and talk about it, but since no one’s budging, you’re back to square one. This is why brothers don’t speak to one another for 15 years a pop, or cousins only visit every other holiday. It also affects marital bliss.
So what do you do, when you are bred with a ceiling-less pride and taught to be respectful and expect it always? When the nuclear arms talk fail utterly, and war is imminent…what do you do?
It comes down to our primal responses: Fight or Flight. I’m not speaking a “physical” fight (not this time). But a fight aimed at getting the respect you deserve. Or do you take a hit to your manhood, the very core structure of who you are, and concede.
……and I ain’t about to write a damn song asking for it either.
Mid-term elections are here. Got your condoms and K-Y? You’ll be needing them….because politicians are about to rain down an orgy of spins, mud slinging, baby kissing, hand shaking, and leery smiling promises, only to completely renege as soon as they get in office. They should skip the $200 hundred dollar fundraiser dinners and take us right to the hotel, because you KNOW what happens next.
The campaign trail is nothing more than a glorified lap dance across America. “If you have money, I’ll show you what I MIGHT do for you.”
No one can say I’m not a Patriot. I’ve served this country proudly during my tenure in the United Sates Navy. But what the hell happened to the United States Congress? I remember how the Senate and the House of Representatives USED to be. Now, Congress is just one large brothel. Everyone is screwing and/or screwing over everyone else…literally. Let’s see if I have this right: U.S. taxpayers pay their salary, Congressmen in turn, listen to our needs in earnest, then decidedly do exactly the opposite. Sounds like a bad night in Vegas if you ask me.
Oh, and if you think for one second that the parties aren’t secretly working together behind our backs, you’re naive. Someone explain to me why as a nation of voters, there is only a two party system…waitaminute didn’t there used to be more? I wonder what happened to them? hmmm, go figure.
The President? figurehead, scapegoat, fall guy, patsy, mark, sucker….I could go on, but I think you get my meaning. He does nothing. He can suggest until he’s blue in the face like the Na’Vi from Avatar. Don’t believe me? ok…the military: controlled by the Joint Chiefs of Staff. the Prez doesn’t make a move without them. Laws: nope. He can’t pass a bill unless Congress allows it. (and of course Congress is bribed by whoever has a lot of money, they’re called lobbyist.) So…what exactly is he doing again? Nothing, but misdirecting your hate. Or love , if you’re into that sorta thing. You sitting down? We haven’t had a real president since Kennedy. And “they” shot him for it. Oh snap, they shot Lincoln too…and a warning shot was all it took for Reagan to play along with the program.
Rape is termed as sexual intercourse with another person WITHOUT that person’s consent. The way we’re getting screwed, somebody needs to press charges on the House AND the Senate. It’s all about money. It always was. Scratch that, no it wasn’t. “WE THE PEOPLE” use to mean something. So much so that our forefathers began the constitution with it. I am going to quote something from Franklin and Jefferson to some of you unread denizens. (pick up a history book sometimes and stop reading People magazine.)
“I believe that banking institutions are more dangerous than standing armies… if the American people ever allow private banks to control the issue of currency… the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprave the people of their prosperity until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered.”
“I am the most unhappy man. I have unwittingly ruined my country. A great industrial nation is now controlled by its system of credit.
We are no longer a government by free opinion, no longer a government by conviction and the vote of the majority, but a government by the opinion and duress of a small group of dominant men.”
Wow….we are soooo fucked.
Oh, one more thing: ALVIN GREENE?!? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU SOUTH CAROLINA!?!? SERIOUSLY? IT’S PAINFULLY OBVIOUS SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH THAT DUDE. THE ENTIRE STATE CANNOT NOT BE THAT BLIND. DID YOU GUYS START UP INBREEDING? SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH HIM!!!!!!! GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER.
Food has become the new drug of choice, and the percentage of overweight/obese Americans is staggering. Some medical polls have that number as high as 63%…wow. A nation of people hooked on food, like heroin addicts needing a fix.
Does anyone eat for sustenance anymore? I mean c’mon, isn’t food meant to be eaten to survive? Not anymore…if it ain’t smothered covered chopped scattered topped and peppered it ain’t right. Ever see a toddler refuse oatmeal because there isn’t enough sugar and butter in it? We are setting our children up for failure. Who in their right mind gives a baby a crack pipe?
It’s the same addiction.
“No Dennis it’s not the same”, STFU and listen…stop setting your kids up for diabetes and other food borne ailments. Think about this: Some of you might be lactose intolerant. That means that your body has decided its had enough of a substance meant to nourish babies. Do you think there are any lactose intolerant people in Somalia or any Russians with peanut allergens?
Can someone explain to me why the government body known as the FDA hasn’t stepped in to curb this food nonsense. Oh that’s right…money. Marketing and media food gurus entice you like drug dealers. “yeah that burger I made you last time, it’s nothing… nothing…nothing…..compared to this burger. This burger right here, we call it “the whole cow”. You won’t have to eat for weeks.
Bigger, richer, fluffier, greasier, more decadent, more seasoned….mmmm taste all this flavor. And you have the nerve to wonder why you need liposuction. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t be a glut AND look good.
Yet I’m the freak because I’m in my 40′s, workout like it’s my religion and eat healthy. And then there’s the questions: What do you do, how do you do it? My answer: I have the willpower to avoid Dairy Queen’s XXL Blizzard shakes and the fact that ever single day I wake up, I think to myself I can be better. My competitive streak fuels me when my energy runs low. I simply refuse to look like “that guy”.
I think I may have the solution. Put an end to serviced foods and grocery stores. That’s right, no more restaurants or grocery stores. No more convenience.
Kinda lose your appetite when you think of having to hunt and kill your own food huh?
Mmm…venison steaks anyone?
It’s hard enough to deal with hidden agendas and the proverbial knife in the back, but when you’re forced to endure the “crabs in the barrel” attitude from your own people, it really stops you in your tracks and makes you take a hard look at society, culture and regional environments….or maybe, that’s just me.
The Mason-Dixon line isn’t the only line drawn that some southerners secretly take pride in. Economic status, has always been a line that separates us…from a financial standpoint anyway. And when you successfully make that jump into the next tax bracket, you leave behind a few scratching heads wondering “how’d he do that”? That wonderment (also known as ignorance) turns to resentment. The end result? You now have a hater on your hands.
Hater ~ a person who cannot be happy for another person’s success. Instead of being happy, they make it point of exposing the person’s flaws. Their thought process isn’t really hate, it’s to knock that person down a notch.
Now, try breaking a few racial stereotype and see what happens. As a black person, go rock climbing. Or as a white person, become a rapper. Depending on where you are regionally, you’ll be known as “selling out”, or acting something that you’re not. People are creatures of habit. Change upsets their conformity (which is why a certain political figure is fighting a losing battle). When they see “different” then something must be wrong. Are we really hard wired like that?
Like I said, crabs in a barrel….my friend Anthony is an up and coming cyclist. He’s pretty good. But because cycling isn’t seen as a “black” sport, he’s operating outside of the known stereotype, he gets accused of being something he’s not.
While visiting family back home, I ran into a childhood friend. After reminiscing a bit, he pulls me to the side and asks, ” Hey dawg, so how long were you locked up for”? See… for this imbecile, military training and 14 years of bodybuilding resemble working out in the penitentiary recreation room.
This is a very large world we live in. Get off your close-minded, prejudiced thinking, one tracked, “I eat the same thing for breakfast everyday”, asses…and experience something new. Talk to someone different. Walk another route. Stop wallowing in your own ignorance and for God’s sake stop educating yourself via television.
through playing with y’all…..damn.
Any other day, I’d bypass this subject and wouldn’t think twice about it. I’m sitting at home sick as a dog, channel surfing. I see the Tyra Banks Show (damn, she is still fine!) about women loving men with big bellies. And then the subject was broached on Facebook. So I have to ask ladies…REALLY?
Because I heard a lot of lies. lies. lies. Maybe it was to save face, or maybe it was the fact that they no longer consider their lover’s body part of the equation of love. Maybe it’s all about the dollars and to hell with the body. I don’t know, I’m just trying to gain a little perspective.
See…I know without a shadow of doubt that some women don’t like skinny guys. I used to be just that. Being skinny as a rail, trying to talk to a dimepiece is a futile attempt no matter what your charming smile or winning looks have done for you in the past. Some women don’t roll that way. They want a physical man who can handle himself and be able to bring food to the table. I get that.
But beer bellies? I’m heavily into the gym/fitness thing and I am a pretty sizable guy. At 42 years old, 232lbs, I still have no gut. Am I to believe, I’d lose out to the fat guy at the end of the bar with a bucket of Natural Light beer? To quote the fictional senator Clay Davis from HBO’s the Wire, “shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”
Muscle>Fat everyday, all day.
Guys, PLEASE do not fall into this sitcom reality TV show/facebook tomfoolery. Get your asses in the gym. Nevermind what women think….ok scratch that(what was I thinking), consider your own health for a minute. Abdominal obesity can kill you (indirectly). Not to mention affecting the lead in your “pencil”. It’s a sure sign that your estrogen levels are rising. And I’m hoping I don’t have to break THAT one down to you.
Our abs are quite useful. When you find them again, you can email me and thank me for getting rid of your back pain and improving you sex life. Abs act as a stabilizer for your torso and a gyroscope for your….hell, if you didn’t know all this time, you might be outta luck on the latter.
Ladies (just the ones that like big men), tell your man the truth, yes you want a big man for the comfort and joys of life. One that can also handle himself and protect you. A guy that can be that “blanket” you want. You don’t want a guy who runs around making jokes about his “tool shed”. Encourage your big man to go walking, ease him into the cardio. Before you know it, he’ll be able to “see” himself again and won’t have to reach blindly for it.
Am I too harsh? Probably. Am I an insensitive ass? Definitely. Listen I know there are conditions which prevent some men from exercising and/or eating right. To those guys, I’m sorry…this isn’t meant for your eyes. I’m strictly referring to those 30-40 somethings who are fully ambulatory yet down kegs of beer at happy hour, talking about “yeah I’m gonna start working out again”. Meanwhile their wives and girlfriends are on the Tyra Banks Show talking about, “Tyra, my big bellied man is putting it down”.
He’s coming back to the game. And as much as his peers will hate it, they will also welcome him back with open arms. All while making snide comments behind his back. No, it isn’t Brett Favre and it sure as hell ain’t Jordan. It’s Eldrick. And before you get your panties in a bunch asking who Eldrick is, I’ll tell you.
Eldrick Tont Woods…affectionately (and intimately) known as Tiger. Now, there is absolutely nothing about Tiger Woods that I could expound upon that the media hasn’t already filleted and gutted a million times already, except for one thing. Why he got caught. (no, not why he did it, why he got caught).
Tiger Woods is an island unto himself. That kinda makes it hard to do dirt when you’re visible from the weather channel’s satellites. Secondly, he went against the grain of every celeb/athlete’s mantra. He had no Entourage.
Entourage (read: boys who you pay and trust to do YOUR dirt and take the fall). These people are made up of people you know before the fame and fortune and when the shit hits the fan, will gladly scoop it up.
Celebs with entourages usually have a bad image of boozing party hounds, so Tiger refrained from having one, not realizing their true purpose. Damn, hindsight’s a bitch ain’t it?
But let me make myself really really clear. In no way do I condone Mr. Woods infidelities. He was stupid and got caught with his hands, feet and who knows what else in the cookie jar. Apparently, he thought he was a college frat boy. I remember my college days, (barely). I felt unstoppable. I vaguely remember my mother mentioning something about me burning out before I turned 25 (guess what mom, it was sooner…).
I didn’t have an entourage but I had friends I trusted impeccably. Question is, who does Tiger trust? It’s kinda funny though, because real tigers hunt solo, at night and ambush their prey. The two legged tigers we know use Patron Margaritas….or cereal.
If only he had one good friend to say “I don’t think its a good idea, let’s go” We wouldn’t be reading about all this nonsense now. But you know what, it’s not all his fault.
Let’s back up a sec. So the wifey had no idea? She was clueless? Yeah right, whatever. If the handwriting is on the wall, you just don’t apply a fresh coat of paint. Let’s not forget this has been going on for years, and she just now decided to bash his head in? A one eyed man with a cataract could see she didn’t care what Tiger did UNTIL it was about to become public knowledge.
So why are people so hellbent on what Tiger is or isn’t doing? Americans (some of us) are boring, mundane hum drum people who live their lives vicariously through someone else. Everyone wants to shake up their lives and do something wild and off the cuff but is afraid to. That’s why Vegas is so popular. What? you thought it was because of the casinos? Kill yourself now and help the census.
People like to commune socially. That’s why everyone is in everyone else’s business and personal affairs. And when celebrities and/or an athlete’s business come to light…oh boy, the fireworks fly. Tiger’s affairs were, socially speaking “a multiple orgasm” for the media and it’s endearing public.
The man liked to get his multicultural penis wet. He’s also given billions in charity benefiting children. Does this make it right? Hell no it doesn’t. Not at all. But tell me…what has your trifling baby’s daddy contributed other than his seed?
Stop casting stones. Welcome back Tiger.
Happy New year! It’s that time isn’t it? Time to make that new years resolution.
‘I’m gonna lose weight”
“I’m gonna save money”
and my all time favorite, (one that I can speak on) “I’m gonna work out and get in shape”.
Yay…I for one, welcome January. I’ll get all the cannon fodder I need for my blogs right in the gym. Here’s a question I’ve been wanting to ask so many people. Why do you need a certain time of the year as an excuse to do something that you’re NOT going to stick with year round only to make the exact same excuse at the same time next year? I stopped making resolutions a loooong time ago. I figured out that obviously, I never wanted to do said resolution in the 1st place or I would have done it a lot sooner.
I get it though..sorta. a new year. a new beginning. a new you. Thing is, this could work with other holidays as well.
Easter… “Resurrect a new you”.
July 4th…”Celebrate independence from the old you”
Christmas.. “the birth of a new you”
New Years is just another holiday excuse. Let me give you a few synonyms for the word excuse according to Brittanica: apology , cleanup, cop-out, cover up, evasion, subterfuge, justification, plea…see where I went with that?
Hey, if you stick with your fitness program…great, awesome. I owe you an heartfelt apology and I’ll offer you my personal help and assistance. But my money’s on the ones who just paid up for a whole year at their local gyms and will be outta there by……mmm, let’s say March. It won’t even be 30 days for some. C’mon, I haven’t spend the last 13 years of my life in a gym and not have noticed.
I see you…on the phones, wearing makeup, scoping out potential mates (ok nothing wrong with that part), socializing like the gym is a club without a liquor license. Refusing a trainer and still working out wrong, holding up the machines that real gym members need. And you wonder how can you work out for so long and not see any results.
I didn’t forget about you weekend warriors (part timers in the gym). you have a little definition, so you swagger around the gym after you bench 225, flexing like you’re in the Arnold Classic, grunting like you’re in a strongman competition, wearing your little brother’s wifebeater so you can appear bigger. Tipping the scales at 220lbs does not put you in the big boy club (unless you’re 5’9). These guys usually quit after they tear a muscle from lifting improperly.
Ladies, ladies, ladies…there are sporting goods stores that sell non-tight fitness gear. So there won’t be any need to tie a shirt around your waist to cover up all that ass you’re trying to hide. An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Don’t buy it, and we won’t look. Thus negating the need to cover up what you thought was sexy in the sporting goods dressing room. If men decided to wear loincloths in the pilates class, it would take you outta your game just a little bit wouldn’t it? Mmhmm, thought so. It’s all good til the shoe is on the other foot. Or, to put in more simpler graphic terms…til there’s a large penis in your face and you begin to remember why you’re working out in the first place.
All in all, its going to be fun times these first few months. I have a few goals of my own as well. Only I made them back in October
See ya in the gym!
You know that friend of yours that talks REALLY loud?
So loud in fact, that you have to remove the phone from your ear, or back pedal away from them to avoid the spittle? It’s not their fault. It is however, their coping mechanism. The majority of them are extroverts. Outgoing, bright, optimistic, sunny people who want to brighten your day(and move the spotlight from all the skeletons in their closets).
Go ahead, just try to get a word in edgewise on these boisterous bubbly braggadocios blow hards (say that 4 times fast) and watch how their volume increases incrementally to over talk you. A normal conversation is now a shouting match. Your friend will then pull out a megaphone to finish his/her statement FTW (for the win).
As soon as I recognize the signs (the ability to hold 3 conversations at once and lead them all), I prepare myself for bouts of silence.
That’s right, the nemesis to these amplified vocal beings…the anti-talker. If I’m interrupted more than twice in a conversation, I shut up. Obviously that individual isn’t interested in a meaningful conversation and one of my major pet peeves is having to repeat myself. Being forced to repeat myself makes me want to cripple people. (update: I’m no longer crippling people, the treatments work!) Once you stop talking, they realize their mistake however briefly. But like a broken radio knob, they return to full volume in no time at all.
There are SOME advantages to having a loud talker around.
Planning an event? Just remember it’s good to have at least two or more loud talkers at a party or function. Ensure there is an even number of them and your party will be a success as they cancel each other out simultaneously livening up the scene.
This can sometimes backfire however, creating another insidious loud talker: the alcohol induced loud talker.
Oh yeah… now you have to contend with breath, spittle and at times become a leaning post. Because drunks wobble. There is nothing you can do but shred the napkin (aka the coaster) that your drink is sitting on and stuff it in your ears to protect your ear drums. A face shield would be nice, but it’s not too aesthetic in social settings.
Remedy: Introduce him or her to the person next to you and excuse yourself to the bathroom. Works like a charm, trust me. Let them slobber and shout all over that person.
Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Yeah…i’m sure that applies to the 99.9 percentile, but let’s talk about the “haters” for a moment, shall we? 1st, let’s define the modern term “hater”. We all heard it in some form or fashion, in a literal or theatrical sense. But let’s break it down for the less urban demographic:
1. One who hates.
2. (slang, pejorative) One who expresses unfounded or inappropriate hatred or dislike, particularly if motivated by jealousy.
Great. we all can define what or who a hater is. But what the hell do haters and chameleons have in common? I’m getting to that but first let’s define what a chameleon is.
1. A small to mid-size reptile, of the family Chamaeleonidae, and one of the best known lizard families able to change color and project its long tongue.
2. A person with inconstant behavior; one able to quickly adjust to new circumstances.
Now….When you have an individual that can’t stand the ground you walk on, and will erase every footprint you leave behind, all the while secretly admiring your swagger, taking notes on your designer fashion, the books you read, eyeballing your tech,wearing your cologne, mimicking your kung fu (well, feebly at best): Hater/Chameleon hybrid
I find it amusing these days. Something that used to send me into beast mode, simply makes me smile and shake my head. Even more so; I’ve come to take pity on them. Maybe it was a bad childhood. No friends, no girls, you know…”the straight home from school get your ass in the room” kinda childhood. No interaction with peers…no wait. No EQUALITY amongst peers, will drive you to do weird things. The hater/chameleon hybrid has to imitate everything it sees in order to give the perception of being able to relate. Yet, to see the Alpha (ha ha) do things it will never attain: the winning touchdown,getting the really fine girl, and getting the respect of all the guys is enough to set the hater’s blood boiling, sending it into an ADHD (Attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder) rage.
Here’s what’s funny though. the hybrid believes that it’s invisible. It thinks that we can’t actually see it wearing our style, our gear, studying our moves. It doesn’t know that we can see it spreading hate and discontent behind our backs. It doesn’t realize we can hear all the things it’s saying to place itself in a positive light meanwhile working to place us in a negative one.
I was once told that success was measured by the amount of haters you had. Really? Because it gets old after awhile and you just want to recommend therapy to the hater. Waitaminute, hater rehab….that’s not a bad idea.
There is trickery afoot…..not to mention some bullsh*t. “Get all 13 games in high definition”. (oh did we forget to mention that the HD channels were extra?) Our bad. Aww, is your game blacked out locally? What a coincidence, its seems ours is too.
Directv is getting worse every year with it’s NFL packages. It’s nothing short of disgusting. But here’s the real kicker, something the fine print failed to mention: the big three: ABC, NBC, CBS are redoing their contracts with the NFL. Last year, if your team aired on CBS, it was not going to be shown on the vainglorious 1080p HD of Sunday ticket. No…CBS aired it in standard version, 720 at best (cheap bastards).
Before you go, “Dennis stop making stuff up”, I got this juicy bit of intel after being on hold for an hour and a half from a Directv rep. Seriously. You know what, I’m gonna place a call to the feds or the DEA, because someone over at the NFL is smoking some of the finest crack money can buy. Watch a Thursday night game and see if they don’t call it Monday night football…Only crackheads and Alzheimer patients don’t know what day it is.
Which way would you have it: they’re smoking crack OR they say we’re so incredibly stupid we won’t notice. Another sign that they believe we’re as smart as a box of rocks: The giant HD screen in Dallas stadium. I guess even the fools are bigger and better in Texas, because if I have to leave my house, drive to the stadium and pay to watch the game on another tv (albeit a larger one), I deserved to be fleeced of all my money.
The NFL should just rob us at gunpoint. Oh wait, I forgot. It’s hard to find good help that isn’t 2009′s version of Barney Fife.(yes I’m talking about you, Plaxico Burress).
As for NFL Sunday ticket…it’s over, done. Like Minnesota’s season with Brett Favre. (what the hell were they thinking, he’s my age and I’m in better shape).
Edit: okay, I’m older than Brett Favre but in waaay better shape and a lot more handsome by a longshot.
I wish I had a dollar for all the stupid things I see people do on a daily basis. Apparently I’m an alien residing on the planet O.C.D. I’m not sure what drives the decision making process in some people but damn…just breathe, slow down, fire off a couple of gray matter neurons and assess a situation before making a total imbecile of yourself.
Pet peeve #1. your car isn’t faster than mine. Stop trying to cut me off, speed up and/or block me from passing. Trying to “out accelerate” my Nissan 350z in a truck, SUV, sedan or anything else that doesn’t have over 400 horses under the hood is going to get you embarrassed.
Pet peeve #2. Women who wear makeup to the gym. Seriously. WTF is that all about? In 12 years of working out I’ve never seen anything more asinine. 5 to 7pm in the gym is like happy hour minus the booze so apparently she’s one of those DW’s. (see my last post)
Pet peeve #3. Guys who believe their own lies so much, they create their own reality. For the record, when you’re recruiting for your “multi million dollar” real estate business, it’s probably not a good look to wear Pro Keds, Walmart faded glory jeans and drive a 1987 Ford bronco that OJ wouldn’t drive. Nevermind that your flea market brand Ed Hardy actually reads “Ned Hardy”.
I know that we are driven to do strange things and act out in strange ways by our environment, hormones and senseless peer pressure ploys designed to make you act like you haven’t received home training…but I guess as long as no one gets hurt, providing us a laugh at your dumb ass shenanigans is ok. It’s all fun and games til someone gets the “brakes beat off them”.
I’m really trying hard to be as unbiased as I possibly can when I say this: Ladies…desperation is not a good look. I should probably elaborate a bit more, “being desperate in getting a man” is not a good look. Yeah, I know there are guys who are just as desperate, but I’m not one of them and I’ll be damned if I hang around those losers, so I ain’t writing about them…yet.
I can smell it you know (no, not the Dolce & Gabanna or that Avon knockoff), the desperation. Seeping outta their pores like next day tequila. That 4th quarter hurry up offense to score…A woman’s game clock, it’s a shame there’s no overtime…. Ovaries, apparently are like time bombs. You gotta use em before they explode. Huh, who knew?
Almost every time I’m out, I get that look. You know the look I’m referring to: that extra linger-look away-then look again-smile look. It’s THAT look men love to get. It brings back that untainted school boy in all of us. That “yeah, I’m the sh*t” feeling.
It’s the wild eyed, “I haven’t had any sleep because I can hear my fallopian tubes cracking” that scares the bejesus out of men.
I had a T-Pain experience at Chili’s the other day. Hanging with the guys, killing the 2 for 1 all night drinks specials when the bartender says “a lady is buying you a drink”. Cool, I turn down nothing but my collar…
It happened in slow motion (at least for me it was). I saw the approach, I saw the smile, I saw the switch in her hips that screamed “I’M FERTILE”. Then I saw the look of disgust when she caught the light’s reflection from my platinum diamond wedding band. It was like someone had messed up her $85 dollar perm. She wasn’t even cordial when I offered to return the favor. Maybe it was the walk of shame back to her table or the giggling schoolboys that my friends turned into.
Most of all, I’m sure it was the disappointment. I felt bad for her in a sense. She looked weathered/tired in the dating game. You know how desert travelers see mirages and get that burst of excitement and energy only to find out it’s nothing there? Yeah, like that.
What can you do? As long as we have the genetically encoded primal need to procreate there will always be trials in finding a mate. That goes for both men and women, but its just funnier to me when women have to do “the walk of shame”. Divine retribution? maybe.