Never waste jealousy on a real man: it is the imaginary man that supplants us all in the long run. ~ George Bernard Shaw
Go get ’em George. He’s right, you know? He’s right for the same reason that police officers lock you in little rooms while grabbing a coffee and chatting with friends (for those of you who haven’t experienced this, roll with me here): the human brain. It is bar none the worse torture device ever. No real-world situation could ever compare to the horrors we are generating for ourselves. My horror? Douche Bags.
There is a growing legion of lil’ bastards out there. They march in shorts and off-angle caps no Yankee would ever lower himself to wear on the field. They use terms like “Bra” (as opposed to “bro”) and are incapable of completing a proper hand shake.
Now, I admit, they’re not necessarily “peeing in my pool” as I am kind of swimming in theirs, but come on! How does this shit fly? I have already written several times about one classic example of Douche-ness when a young man announced his arrival at the bar by yelling, yes yelling, “Yo! Where ma bitches at?” (I won’t hesitate to point out his only connection to the Rap music industry was purchased on iTunes).
Anyone who has met these little twerps knows that they are a waste, and yet, I find myself jealous of them.
Young Women may be searching (or at least claim to be searching) for “Men” as opposed to “Boys”. But, as is true on the other side of the fence, it is often more fun to look at “Boys” than “Men”. Okay, so they’re fitter. That’s because their bodies haven’t rebelled against them yet. Just wait!
Why anyone would suffer through the sheer vapidity of their existence just for a cut set of abs is beyond me. I have never gone in for bimbos and I always wanted to think women were smarter than that.
But listen to me… sounds like this bear just got himself caught in a fox trap.
*Neat Blog Alert: IAMBOYCRAZY – fun for boys and girls and required reading for those discussed above.