Bros & Hoes in Prose
Yaroslav Pastukhov
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2011 Yaroslav Pastukhov
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter 2: Branded Bromosexuals
Chapter 4: Judgments and Jargon
Foreword
Wow, I can’t believe you actually got this book. I mean, I know that it’s free, but still. These stories and reflections have been in the works for two years. My first article, the Inner Monologue of a First Time Stoner, was actually written in my old Chevy Cavalier after I had dropped my friend off at home. About 20 months later that one article grew to thirty and covered all aspects of society that can be easily ridiculed. Most of these stories will make you smile, some may make you laugh and some of these stories will piss you off, but only if you fit into any of cookie-cutter molds that have been presented to us by MTV. So unless you’re draped in Ed Hardy with stupid tattoos or if you think that girls will talk to you just because you’ve read a Neil Strauss book then you’ll find some sort of comedy in this text. However, if you are a caricature of everything that is wrong with the world then not only will you be offended, but I’m surprised that you managed to turn this ebook reader on long enough to download and open this book without setting yourself on fire.
My least favourite part of my favourite books is the foreword so I’ve decided to spare you and end it here. I won’t even include a dedication page, thus saving a valuable e-page and saving the e-rainforest. But I will say that my Mom is the person that has had the most influence on my life and because of that this book is for her, Iryna P.
So enjoy reading the book! If you like it then feel free to let me know on Twitter at YarocK and if you disliked it then feel free to condense your hate into 140 characters and tweet me at YarocK.
CHAPTER 1
HOW TO GET WOMEN. ALSO, HOW TO GET RID OF THEM.
3 Women You Should Date
With winter approaching, single women all over your city are getting antsy at the thought of spending the trifecta of affectionate holidays alone. Who will they curl up with for Christmas? Who will plant their New Year's kiss? Who will buy them unnecessary and expensive Valentine's Day gifts? Gentlemen, if you're smart (and by reading my blog you probably are) then you will take advantage of these holiday horn dogs.
I know what you're thinking: won't this be expensive? Presents cost money and as a college student you instinctively aim to do everything in the most financially responsible (read: cheapest) way possible. Well don't worry, I've done the footwork for you and narrowed it down to the top three women that are perfect for this holiday season; think of these as product reviews for pussy. And, like any good review, I've broken each one down into four distinct categories: price, features, cons, and reason for termination. So, let's begin.
1. The Trophy
Price: $$$
Since a trophy is meaningless if people can't see it, be prepared to eat at places you can't pronounce, and dance at clubs where the soles of your shoes stick to the floor, Red Bull costs $7, and you can't open your mouth without tasting the stale and salty flavor of sadness in the air. The Trophy is a great thing to have, but unless you have an elastic wallet, you should avoid this one during the holiday season.
Features:
The Trophy is a stunning display that will make you the envy of all your neighbors, so be prepared to be hated by onlookers. One of The Trophy's best features is her ability to make you seem more attractive simply by standing next to her, so be careful not to delude yourself into thinking that people are looking at you. Yearly maintenance is expensive but infrequent, similar to getting the oil changed in a BMW. As long as you remember important milestones like birthdays and anniversaries you should be okay.
Cons:
While the aesthetic features of The Trophy are on point, she lacks the humor and wit required for witty banter, so prepare yourself for awkward silences punctuated by even more awkward childhood stories. Also, bad blowjobs.
Break-Up Reason:
You either run out of spending cash or childhood stories to fill the silence.
2. The Fiend
Price: $$
Since The Fiend comes with her very own drug addiction, prices vary depending on her vice and how often she indulges. Pothead? $30 and a family-size pack of peanut M&M's. Coke fiend? $200 and a full tank of gas when she decides she wants to go to Vegas on a Tuesday afternoon.
Features:
The greatest thing about The Fiend is her personality and open-mindedness toward anything or any idea. She has a fun personality, an interest in all of your favorite music, and a knack for bringing up random things you would never have known otherwise. Whether or not these things are relevant to you is another story, but at least you'll find out that it's possible to extract 800 liters of milk from a Minke whale.
Cons:
Depends on dependency. You may wake up to her cooking you breakfast in bed and then come home from work to find an amateur meth lab in your kitchen. Like accepting a collect call from prison, you never know what you're going to get with The Fiend.
Break-Up Reason:
She’ll either stab you, run away without telling anyone, or smarten up...and realizes it's much smarter just to date her dealer.
3. The Indoor Lover
Price: $
Someday, you'll find the girl of your dreams sitting in your favorite coffee shop reading your favorite book while wearing the concert shirt from your favorite band's best tour. Until then, feel free to get some practice with The Indoor Lover, otherwise known as the economy model. The only capital you'll need to court her is your own place, or at the very least a car that you can fit a mattress in.
Features:
Like her name implies, this model doesn't see the outside world with you unless it's a life-or-death situation. Maybe you're out of her league, maybe she's out of yours, but you both have a mutual agreement that your relationship doesn't leave your filthy bed sheets. Your best bet is to put in work and practice your sex-game so that you can be not-horrible when you actually do meet Ms. (or Mrs., you player) Right. Think of it as assisted masturbation, except you'll be using the Kleenex to wipe away tears of self-loathing instead of spunk.
Cons:
There's a reason you don't want to be seen in public with your Indoor Lover; maybe she's annoying, maybe she's taller and hairier than you, or maybe she's a leper. You should really consider yourself lucky since The Indoor Lover presents all of her faults up front, unlike typical relationships where it can take months to realize how ugly the girl really is.
Break-Up Reason:
One of you (most likely her) will want more out of the relationship than just sex. Ridiculous, I know.
So there's your cheat-sheet for holiday horn dog shopping around. Remember, dating any of these types of girls this time of the year is like buying cocaine off a homeless guy: you never know what you're going to get.
R.I.P. MILFs
Ladies and gentlemen, we have reached the end of an era. Think back with me to a time in the distant past, way back when you first heard that 4-letter acronym that changed your life forever: MILF. Many teenagers became obsessed over the word, using it to describe nearly every mom they met after that point. But as those adolescent boys grew older, those MILFs seemed to disappear; they certainly weren't as easy to find as the Bang Bros would lead you to believe. Instead, the MILFs evolved into a new species, one which chooses to hunt rather than be hunted: the cougar.
Cougars are everywhere if you look hard enough. They're at your gym wearing too much makeup and too little clothing while they walk on the near-stationary treadmill. They're at the pub on college night, leaning up against the bar trying to catch the eye of that guy with the tribal tattoos. They're at the mall, working as cosmeticians (ironic because they always look like they got blasted in the face with Homer's makeup shotgun). They're even in sports! You know the best basketball player in the world, LeBron James? Yeah, well his mom is a cougar, which she proved by sleeping with her son's teammate Delonte West. If we can't trust the wholesomeness of our athlete's mothers, who can we trust?
So what happened to the wholesome MILFs that everybody loved? It's a well-known fact that 82% of guys have at one point in their lives referred to themselves as "The MILF Hunter," but this will no longer be the case for future generations. The millennial male will have to be content being "cougar bait" or some other combination of cat/food words. What kind of future are we looking forward to if all of our prepubescent boys go around bragging about getting cougar'd? That, ladies and gentlemen, is not a world I care to live in.
The problem with cougars is that guys always say they wants to experience one, but once they start getting seduced they think, "Holy crap this is weird, is neck skin supposed to hang that low??" and their once-noble quest begins to look more like a suicide mission. A night with a group of bros at an "older" club to meet some cougars will no doubt start with shots and fist pumps, but will likely end with everyone exchanging nervous glances as friends try to pry friends away from packs of slutty Betty Whites.
At this point you're probably running around in a panic, screaming at the monitor for advice on what to do, so let me tell you this: there's no hope. With divorce rates rising and old people getting on Facebook, it's only a matter of time before older women choose to take advantage of our boyhood dreams and corrupt us in ways I can't describe. The only hope is surrender: like regular cougars, these women will not go after prey if it "plays dead," so as soon as you see a drunken buzzard approaching you from across the bar, fake a convulsion—that should buy you at least 10 minutes.
Our only hope is that they don't evolve further, otherwise we'll have 80-year-old women with bedazzled colostomy bags walking up to us at the bar asking us if we've ever been with someone...older. As long as these super-cougars (or mecha-lions, as I call them) don't surface, we should be fine. To avoid this scenario, we simply need to convince cougars to marry hipsters. It's a natural marriage really: the cougar would be happy to find somebody younger who could use the extra income, and the hipster would totally dig the irony.
The Five Stages of the Female Clinger
Welcome to the first and last instalment of “Relationship Advice from a Guy who’s Never Been in a Relationship.” In this article we’ll be talking about girls, but unlike my previous article about friends, you can still read this one even if you don’t leave your parents’ basement to socialize. Reason being, friends can’t be bought as easily as girls.
So, as long as you save a portion of your Walmart paycheck for the next 3 months you can afford to purcha...er...treat a girl for a night out. Worst case scenario, you drop a portion of the dough for some massage parlor lovin’.
Now, meeting women isn’t very difficult: you go “out” (wherever that is in your town), dress nice, don’t be ugly, and say things that make people laugh. Follow these instructions correctly and you’ll be ankle-deep in pussy before you know it. My purpose in all this is to help you weed through your suitors to determine which ones are normal, well-adjusted women, and which ones are bat-shit crazy clingers.
“Clinger” is a term for a girl who simply refuses to give you any free time to yourself, and it is not a word that should be thrown around carelessly. The clinger deals severe damage not only upon her target, but also his friends, as she is capable of such horrors as turning guy’s night into a Starbucks adventure (not the good kind where you make fun of the menu and taunt the barista), and making you wake up at 4am because “she just wanted to say hi.”
Described below are the clinger stages. There’s no such thing as a Stage 1 Clinger, because that would just be a normal female. Stage 5 is the worst because that’s how Wedding Crashers did it, and if you have a problem with Wedding Crashers then you can just go to hell.
Stage 2 Clinger
The most common clinger, really more of a nuisance than an actual threat. The S2 texts you throughout the day and constantly wants to hang out, but you can easily avoid her by using the classic “guy’s night” excuse. You can identify an S2 easily enough when talking to her for the first time, as she’ll generally try to make plans with you in the far-future even though you just met her.
Typical exchange with a Stage 2 Clinger:
*30 minutes after meeting*
You: Yeah, so I’ll be going to Jamaica for a few weeks in February. Her: Awe cool, except now I’m not going to have a Valentine’s Day date. You: What’s your name again?
Stage 3 Clinger
The S3 is an upgraded version of the S2 but only in terms of persistency, not cleverness. You’ll probably be receiving texts at certain scheduled parts of the day (morning and night for example) and maybe even an odd call. If the S3 has a mode of transportation then you’ll need to be extra careful when revealing your location, as there’s a chance she could arrive at any time. Just to be safe, keep the S3 on her toes by only telling her where you really are a third of the time.
Typical exchange with a Stage 3 Clinger:
*Via text*
Her: (8:06 AM)
Morning sunshine
Her: (10:20 AM) Whatsup buttercup?
Her:
(12:48 PM) Hey, you there?
You: (1:12 PM) Hey, yeah
Her:
(1:13 PM) Hey!!!!Whatsup? What are you doing today?
You: (1:30
PM) Not too sure, maybe going to the mall
Her: (1:31 PM) Cool!!
When? Maybe we can meet up and grab lunch ;)<3
Her: (2:55 PM)
Hey, I’m at the mall, where are u?
You: (3:10 PM) McDonalds
Her: (3:11 PM) Oh, the one by the mall? I’ll be right there ;)
You: (3:15 PM) No no, I’m at the one on the other side of town
Her: (3:16 PM) Oh that’s fine I have gas, cya soon xox
You:
(3:20 PM) No, not on the other side of OUR town. Just on the other
side of a town.
Her: (3:21 PM) Which town?
Her: (4:00 PM) ??
Her: (4:30 PM)
Her: (10:45 PM) Hey! :)
Stage 4 Clinger
The Stage 4 Clinger is kind of like the T-800 Terminator: she’s very good at accomplishing her goal and will let nothing stand in her way. The S4 has a way of extracting information from you that you think is useless, but is really just ammo for their arsenal. Remember that time you wrote down your postal code when you were filling out a contest sheet? The S4 has extracted and processed that information, and with the help of Google Maps, now knows where you live. Congratulations.
Typical exchange with a Stage 4 Clinger:
*via phone*
Her: Hey, whatsup?
You: Nothing, just chilling at my house with a friend.
Her:
Which friend? You: Jordan.
Her: IS THAT A GIRL?!?!?! You:
Uhhh...no.
Her: Oh okay, does he drive the red Taurus?
You:
...Yes, how did you know that?
Her: Oh, I’m just parked
outside.
You: What?!? Why?
Her: I was hoping I would see you.
Do you mind if I come in really quick to use your bathroom?
You:
*click*
Stage 5 Clinger
To be truthful, I have never encountered an S5, although I know close friends who have. These are the girls who will plan their lives around you: they’ll go to the same school as you (or at least move to the same city), get the same class schedule as you, apply for a job at the places you work (and visit regularly), and even try to befriend your friends.
If you ever encounter an S5, the most important thing is to stay calm and whatever you do, DO NOT have sex with her. Once she gives it up, she’ll pursue you to the corners of the Earth focused on getting you to propose or at least be her baby daddy. Actually, you know what, scratch that. Go ahead and sex her up; you only live once.
CHAPTER 2
THE INS-AND-OUTS OF A LIFESTYLE YOU SHOULDN’T BE FAMILIAR WITH
Blossoming a Bromance
With 2010 winding down and another year just around the corner, it's time to get into resolution mode. This is the one time of the year when we decide to change ourselves for the better... for about a month and a half before giving up and promising to try harder next year. I can't help you save money or lose weight but I can help you out in the relationship department.
I've already showed you how to pick your girlfriend for these upcoming months, but what if your New Year's resolution is simply to make more friends? Unfortunately for you, the male-to-male relationship is one of the hardest to cultivate in nature, and as such, should be handled carefully. If only there was a simple three-step plan to help you with this unattainable goa...wait a minute:
1. The Size-Up
In nature, similar animals gather together in packs for survival—a pride of lions, a pack of wolves, a conspiracy of ravens, etc. In the human world, males generally adopt these packs by participating in mundane routines like attending school or work and befriending those whom they hate the least.
So what do you do when you happen upon a bro in his natural habitat and try to make contact? Upon meeting a bro for the first time, you are both subject to the size-up: is this bro taller or better looking than you? Is he a visible minority, thus giving you "cred"? Would you pick him for your team in a pick-up game? Does he have a sister or girlfriend that you can deny hooking up with at a later date? The size-up is the crucial first step to establishing a bromance; you want to find a bro who doesn't present much competition, but also one who shares similar interests.
After you and your prospective bro (brospect) have sized each other up and come to the agreement that you're either "alright" or "cool" (no other words shall be used for fear of sounding gay), there will be plans made to meet again at a later date.
2. The Solo Hangout
On the journey to finding a good bro, this step is vital. It should always be centered on watching "the game" somewhere. It doesn't matter what game: basketball, football, and MMA all work, but if you're dealing with a Euro-bro you may have to watch soccer. Don't offer to watch baseball as it will make you seem soft.
A sports bar gives you plenty of options for conversation, namely the myriad of TV screens and skanky waitresses. If you want to exhibit dominance over your fellow bro, this is the time: buy a pitcher of beer and chug it without using a glass, or order a plate of nachos and don't share until it becomes a small mound of corn chips. This will establish you as the alpha-bro and allow you to lay claim to the first piece of meat on a fresh kill (read: you get dibs on chicks).
Alternately, you can invite the bro over to your house. Blast your iPod, whip out the bong, and see if you have anything in common with your future bro. Unlike the fairer sex, bros don't really care about zodiacs and astrology, so you don't have to pretend to be compatible just because it's "in the stars." Be warned: this option may lead to you finding out some horrible secrets about your bro, like the fact that he listens exclusively to country music or watches baseball for the "entertainment" it gives him. Under no circumstances should you cook for the bro unless the food of choice is to be prepared on a grill; so if you two get hungry, your only options are to order a pizza or fire up a barbeque.
3. Sharing is Caring
In general, males aren't very fond of giving. If you can use something on yourself then why would you give that thing away to anyone else (no bromo)? Boys, men, and bros all hate sharing, so just because you've both survived the vetting process doesn't necessarily mean you're both full-fledged bromosexuals. Without this final and vital step, you will be forever stuck in that limbo between "acquaintance" and "bro4sho." You must share with your fellow bro.
This goes beyond giving away the crust of your pizza or letting your bro choose the home team in NBA 2K11—to be a real bro requires sacrifice. You know that moment when you crack open a new type of beer on the patio with your best friend, take a sip and say, "Mmmm, that's good, try this"? That's bromance. This means that you'll not only give away the crust of your pizza, but also the last piece. And if a bro asks you to borrow 2K11 for the weekend you should reply with a simple nod. Once this level of camaraderie has been attained then you have truly become, and can call each other, bro.
Hate the Playa and The Game
It’s time for the second instalment of “relationship advice from a guy who’s never been in a relationship.” As some of you may know, there exists a book in this world that promises that even the geekiest and most social inept males can score with beautiful women. And if I know my audience, you all just put down whatever microwave food you were eating and inched closer to the screen.
This book is called The Game by Neil Strauss and has been providing seduction help for the past five years. I’m here to tell you all a huge secret: it’s all a scam. Fuck negs, IOI’s, kino, and all that garbage. Here’s my patented guide to seduction: if you see a girl you like, go up to her and say hi. Crazy, right? What we as men don’t understand is that women, for the most part, want to be approached and talked to. That’s why they wear cute outfits, get their hair done, work out, and buy ridiculously expensive bags—they want to get noticed. I’ll admit that the book does provide solid help in terms of openers. It tells you to ask the girl(s) a question and have them respond with their opinion. Where the book goes wrong is by giving the reader too many rules to follow: first you open, then set a false time constraint, then demonstrate value, neg, isolate, kino, etc. You need to be able to speak to women without following a linear set of rules. What happens if you forget a step? You’re fucked because you don’t know how to talk to women without your crib sheet.
Why am I harping so much on something like this? I think that the only thing worse than the Ed Hardy dudes charging around when you’re at a bar with friends is those guys who walk around “peacocking” with feathered top hats and beads walking around offering palm readings. Nothing kills a good time faster than a dude sauntering up and trying to steal your date, especially if this dude is covered in some sort of reflective-neon-polyester material and is wearing ski goggles while he tries to get your opinion on some fictional scenario.
Guys, this book has been out for five years! There have been reality shows on it, magazine articles in Cosmo, and Neil Strauss has even been interviewed on The View. Those are the three main sources of information for most women, so they know exactly what you’re doing. The only thing worse than looking like an idiot, is people knowing that you look like an idiot because a book told you to do so, especially if it’s a book about getting laid.
Your Tattoo and You
Tattoos are one of the easiest ways to distinguish yourself from the rest of your social circle; you can tell a lot about a person by how they choose to be branded. A tattoo can serve many purposes: a rite of passage, a mark of status, a sign of devotion, or an excuse to take your shirt off at the bar. But the most important thing is for your tattoo to be special, meaningful, and unique... just like everyone else's.
With everyone getting tattoos, it's becoming increasingly difficult to get creative ideas; there are only so many Chinese symbols you can get tattooed before you start to look like a take-out menu. This is why I suggest the following alternatives for you to consider when getting inked.
What You Thought You Should Get:
Chinese Characters
I can understand the logic behind getting a Chinese tattoo ("These will make me look like Bruce Lee"): it's something that very few people know the meaning of, so you can play it off however you like. On a date? That tattoo means "loyalty." In court? "Innocence." At a job interview? It's Chinese for "I will work overtime."
However, since most of the Eastern languages don't translate perfectly into English, your "strength" tattoo might actually mean "green vegetable dish," which may be embarrassing, but it gets you an awesome discount at General Chow's.
What You Should
Really Get:
Morse Code
Morse code is the language of dots and lines, which makes it the safest language choice of all. Here is the translation for "unique": (..- -. .. --.- ..- .). If you get tired of that in 10-15 years, you can easily modify that into anything imaginable; like an awesome dragon, or a set of racist smiley faces. Plus, there are about three people in the world who can read Morse code on sight, and it shouldn't be very hard to keep your distance from them, seeing how they don't get out much.
What You Thought You Should Get:
Your Family Name
Your family is one of the most important things in your life, and you want to make sure the whole world knows that by getting the family name branded on your body. I applaud your enthusiasm, but have you thought this through? I know that, personally, my daily activities would be better carried out if I didn't have a permanent name tag on my body. What if I decide to rob a convenience store?
What You Should Really Get:
Your
Twitter Handle
First of all, Twitter is not a fad. I haven't been this sure of anything since MySpace and Runescape, so I feel that getting your username tattooed is a genius move. First of all, people would know you're important because you're on Twitter and it gives them a chance to get in contact with you (presumably to tell you how awesome your tattoo is). Also, on the off chance I'm wrong, you can always change the "@" to a one-eyed skull.
What You Thought You Should Get:
Wild Animals
Overheard at every college bar: "You know what really represents me, bro, a wild bear/wolf/eagle/mongoose. I think that completely captures who I am as a person."
Let's say you're right and your personality and character can be symbolized by an eagle. Do you know what people think when they walk by you? "Shit, that guy must love birds." Every animal means different things to different people, so even though your Rottweiler ink may invoke images of "strength" for you, it may ring up dollar signs for different people... people who may or may not be playing quarterback for the Philadelphia Eagles.
What You Should Really Get:
Pokémon
You're really covering all your bases when you get a Pokémon tattoo. It's ironic, so you can say it's a joke; it's easily identifiable to anyone born in the 90's; and it looks bad ass. You may think it's silly right now, but this tattoo is like wine: it only gets better with age. Eventually everyone who DOESN'T remember Pokémon will pass away and the newer generation will see you as that cool old guy with the lightning bird and not that creepy dude with a Zapdos tattoo. The single rule to this tattoo is that it has to be one of the original 150, or else you're a sell-out.
Happy inking!
The Archetypes of Bro
This article is going to be about friends. So if you don’t have any you should probably stop reading right now. Go on, I’ll wait....
Good.
Now, for the rest of you who DO have friends, you’ll know how much joy and blood-boiling rage they bring to your life (often at the same time). It doesn’t matter where you live or who you are, everyone has the same group of friends, and like it or not you’ll know these people for years to come. That being said, I think it’s only right that 10 years after you read this article, you should go back and read it again. If I’m wrong then feel free to drive your flying car/jetpack to my moon-house to receive a holographic apology card. Yes, the future will be that awesome.
The Mooch
If you think back, you won’t even remember HOW you met The Mooch, but he’ll insist that you guys go way back. In fact, he insists that he goes way back with everyone, like that one time in high school when you guys ran away from the cops... you totally owe him for that.
See, what The Mooch does is almost an artform: he contributes nothing of value to the group but still enjoys all the leisure that comes with having friends. It’s not that he/she (who are we kidding, he) enjoys being broke, but the thought of work makes The Mooch weak at the knees. Why surrender free meals and free tokes for a life of monotonous labor?
Where he’ll be in 10 years: Either sleeping on your futon or living the high life after somehow marrying rich. Either way, expect to pick up the tab when you go out. I mean after all, he did do that one thing for you. Remember, that one time? Yeah man, I know you remember. Anyways, can I borrow fifty bucks?
The Stoner
A group staple. If your stoner buddy has a job, then congratulations, you’re going to smoke some amazing weed out of some ridiculous devices. Gas masks, zongs, vaporizers, it doesn’t matter because The Stoner doesn’t do much except work and blaze all day long. He probably has a shitty job that pays ridiculously well for something that doesn’t require much effort, and more often than not it will require him to get wet (make what you will of that).
If The Stoner also has his own place, then he most likely deals too, which ensures that your supply never stays low and you always have a place to play Xbox. See, The Stoner probably has a few hundred, maybe even thousand, bong hits under his belt and as a result is in a constant state of nirvana. No topic is discussed for more than a minute and as a result you often have paradigm-shifting moments after you start talking about organizing your iTunes library.
Where he’ll be in 10 years: Europe, or some other part of the world where he can smoke and grow freely. Either that or he’ll start his own religion which will appeal to all those who want to take bong hits in a building every Sunday morning—“morning” or course, being 2pm.
The Competitive One
This friend will suck the fun out of any activity that you enjoy doing. It doesn’t matter if it’s a sport, a video game, or some simple task you’re doing to keep yourself entertained, The Competitive One will try to best you at it. Most of the time, they succeed, but only because you don’t really care who can throw their shoe further.
The irony of having The Competitive One as a friend is that you’ll never win, because even if you do win, it’s only because he’s sick or his knees hurt. And don’t try telling them you’re sick or have joint problems too. He’s waaaaaay more sick than you and his bones are much more brittle, no contest.
Where he’ll be in 10 years: If he’s physically gifted or black, then probably playing some sort of sport professionally in some part of the world (even Russia has a competitive basketball/curling/fishing league). If not, then he’ll probably be chilling at The Stoner’s house, owning them at Madden 10.
CHAPTER 3
LEAVING NO STONE UNTRNED WHILE THROWING THEM AT GLASS HOUSES
Give me my Office Space
Hey Dude,
As you know, I’m entering the third week of my internship at this office and so far things have been great—everyone has been polite and my boss isn’t as big a dick as I originally thought. If I had to complain about one thing though, I guess it would be you.
When I first met you, you seemed like a normal guy; you had no detectable body odor, you were wearing pants, and you had no visible scars on your face that would indicate that you’re part of a crime syndicate, all things I look for when meeting new people. However, after three weeks here, I now know that you may very well be the child of Satan.
I understand that it’s hard to make friends; you need to find people who enjoy the same things you do and then cultivate that relationship until it turns into mutual respect. But you have chosen to bypass that system completely by just showing up at my cubicle at random intervals throughout the day and spewing whatever garbage comes to your mind. I don’t care about the weather and I don’t want to know what you did this weekend, although I’m sure that weeding your garden must have been an awe-inspiring experience.
I thought things were at the lowest point, but then I discovered that you had added me as a friend on Facebook. What I’m truly confused about is why you think I care about these mundane events, when nobody else in the office seems to. I personally blame the fact that I chose to answer your seemingly innocent question in the cafeteria one day instead of awkwardly shuffling in place and clearing my throat like the other people. Little did I know that “Cold enough for you?” would soon turn into, “Do you want to see pictures of my cat doing something that only I find entertaining?”
Every time I want to get up and pour myself some coffee from the kitchen, I need to plan my route with ninja-like efficiency to avoid any face to face contact with you. Thankfully I have plenty of experience from playing the Metal Gear Solid saga and I know that the best way to distract you is by knocking on a neighbouring cubicle and then running in the opposite direction when you approach. Still, somehow you manage to corner me in the most awkward rooms in the office at the most inappropriate times. Here’s a tip for you: if I have anything in my hand that is either edible or can expel urine, it is probably not the greatest time for a conversation.
Now I must admit that I may be guilty of provoking you from time to time. I do have a tendency to ask co-workers “how’s it going” when I pass them in the halls. Normally when I ask this kind of question I’m looking for the simple response “good” or occasionally “great,” but the last thing that concerns me is how you are actually doing.
If you do think that it’s appropriate to summarize the latest chapter of your life, I at least ask that you know when to walk away. After all, I do need to do work in order to put food in my stomach and beer in my belly, so when your story reaches the finish I would appreciate it if you walked away instead of finding other random topics to talk about for 20 minutes.
I thought things were at the lowest point, but then I discovered that you had added me as a friend on Facebook. I’m still a nice guy deep down, so I decided to accept your request to give you constant access to my personal life and allow you to always be in contact with me. Fantastic. The real injustice is that I have the ability to look through your pictures too, but your life is so mundane that Wonderbread and Earl Gray tea probably laugh at you on a regular basis.
So here I am, huddled quietly in my cubicle with headphones on and no music playing (this technique seems to keep you away) while filling out spreadsheets. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel—I only have nine weeks left of this and if I stay diligent I think I can avoid you at an 83% success rate. If you do ever come across this article, here is a word of advice: get a dog. They’re active, they’re adorable, and they don’t talk back. In the meantime, I have to take my shoes off and prepare to make the sprint for coffee.
Curing the Slickness
Yesterday I tuned into Larry King (because my remote was broken) and I was surprised to see James Cameron on the show talking about the oil spill. This surprised me; James Cameron is not a marine biologist or an environmentalist, he's the guy who collects small golden statues of naked men. Having James Cameron talking about the oil spill is akin to having Chris Nolan give a speech on how to stop crime in a major metropolis.
But what really bothered me was what a negative spin they managed to put on the whole thing, using words like "irrecoverable," "disaster," and "ecosystem." This spill happened 90 days ago; if people really cared enough about the ocean they would get Will.I.Am and some white people to remix something.
Through this whole spill though, the one thought that kept going through my mind was, "Wow, BP Oil Executive is a great career path." They know how badly they've screwed up, but they don't really seem to mind. "Oh what's that, oil is gushing out of the ocean floor? Well then, let's get a real time feed of that on our site, it sounds like it could drive traffic!"
Let's be honest, if you were to become a super villain, there isn't a much better day job than "Oil Executive": it's lucrative, it's shady, and it deals with a substance whose viscosity and color match the blood that runs through your soulless shell. You go to your job, which consists of attending meetings and inspecting (not really, I guess) off-shore oil rigs during the day, and at night you do something super evil like build a cancer ray or work on developing Farmville for the iPhone. All you have to do is act concerned and feign compassion, and you're golden. BP posted a video a few weeks after the spill where one of the executives was standing on a rig, overlooking the mess, promising people that they were trying their hardest to clean it up.
The power that BP seems to have over people is admirable: so far they've blocked people from taking pictures, talking to the media, and walking the beaches. If that wasn't enough, BP has started to filter Google search terms for the spill and the company—a scary thought. In this day and age Google is supposed to be the mecca of knowledge, a tool that even a simpleton can use to learn guitar, find gossip, or build a bomb. BP is telling people what facts they can and can't find and since most people don't care enough about an issue to really research it, a simple Google search is considered a trusted source (if you read a Wikipedia article on it, it officially gives you a PhD on the topic). I can just imagine a Hank Scorpio-type character sitting in his Caribbean volcano-lair with a group of Russian men in fur coats surrounding him and a secret agent tied over a pool of laser sharks behind him while he talks to his PR lady...
BP Head: What's the
problem.
PR: Well sir, public image is incredibly low.
Information is starting to spread about this horrible problem.
BP
Head: Information, you say?!?! Very well, get rid of it.
PR: Sir?
BP Head: You heard me! Clean out the interwebs.
Imagine if McDonald's could filter Google results so that when you searched "calories in a McMuffin" or "what is a filet of fish" you could get only company-approved results....
So yeah, there's some oil leaking and it's screwing up nature, but what you don't know is that it's all part of the master plan. It's been years in the making, but when the weather machine is finally built; BP can just get the wind to push all the oil out to sea and then zap it with lightning ‘til it goes away. That or create a Firecane and wipe out an island, either way.
Contempt and Popcorn
Since I live in a small town, there’s rarely anything to do past 9pm other than see a movie. That being said, I’ve seen most major (and minor) films that have been in t33heatres. You would think that this love for cinema would inspire a post about the greatest actors of our time or something about the philosophical gravity that Alvin and the Chipmunks: The Squeakuel had on me. Nope, today we’re going to talk about how and why the movie experience has sucked over the last five years and what I plan on doing about it (writing a snarky article where I offer no solution).
When you go and sit down to enjoy your movie, there are certain “obstacles” you have to sit through before getting to the best part. First, there are the theatre’s commercials, which are on a looping feed until the movie starts. Then there are more commercials, most of which you just watched, only now you can re-appreciate them in a dimmed setting. Then those are always followed by the bane of my existence: the cell phone ad.
Last time I checked my watch, it was 2010, which means that everyone born after 1994 learned to text around grade 4. We’re all used to having cell phones now, which means that we’re used to the responsibilities that come with them, including turning them off when we’re at a movie—we don’t need to be reminded. But for some reason the cell phone companies think that we forget how to use this numbered brick as soon as the lights go down, so they show us a 30-second commercial reminder that tells us to be considerate and turn down our phones. Listen, phone companies: don’t try to disguise your commercial as a public service ad, especially by baiting us with the exact thing we aren’t supposed to be using. I don’t go to a Broadway show to have the actors try to sell me an awesome camera before telling me “no cameras allowed.”
After sitting through the slew of commercials, we are treated to the trailers, where the best parts of various movies are revealed in the hopes that we turn around and say, “Woah, sweet, I can’t wait to see that” to the people sitting within yelling distance. The problem is that some of the movies coming out aren’t particularly funny or even entertaining. But if that was hinted in the trailer then the movie would flop harder than an Italian soccer player. So instead, we’re shown trailers that contain not only major spoilers, but in some cases give away the funniest jokes of the movie. Take Death at a Funeral for example: it was a funny movie but most of the jokes were crammed into the trailer. When you see a joke, it doesn’t get funnier after six months; that’s not how comedy works.
Not to mention that most movies coming out now are in 3D, which I have mixed feelings about. Sure, Avatar and How to Train Your Dragon use 3D in a sublime and effective way to make you feel more connected to the movie, but Step Up 3D? Really? I guess this will be great for Nike, who can now literally kick us in the face with their shoes. And guess what? The general audience has caught on to this 3D thing. We know it's not a phase so we aren't going to be giving those glasses back after the show; those are going straight into my glovebox. I paid $12 for the movie so I'm keeping a souvenir. Plus, that way I don't need another pair when I go see Jackass 3D.
The Tangled Interwebs
If you've been following the news lately, which I haven't, you'll probably see a lot of anger in the world. Some of it is from a populated cornfield burning LeBron jerseys and chasing douchebags out of stadiums, and some of it stems from people being mad about something going on in the Gulf of Mexico or something. But the strongest type of hate that a person can experience will come from the internet. No other vehicle can both deliver both breaking news and swift and vengeful punishment (normally in the form of prank phone calls and fake pizza deliveries) at the same time. Take, for instance, Jessi Slaughter, an 11-year-old girl who's caused a media shit-firecane using only a webcam and a gap-toothed foul mouth. It started when Jessi made a YouTube video making fun of an internet group who was calling her names (which is fair, because she has a mullet). Since she's only 11, Jessi didn't understand that "fighting fire with fire" isn't a literal term and should not be taken seriously. She then proceeded to get chewed out by everyone with a keyboard and a subscription to an 11-year-old girl's YouTube channel, which, surprisingly, is 82% of the internets demographic. Any normal person would disappear from the web, but Jessi continued to fuel the fire by recording another video, telling everyone to "Get AIDS and die" and threatening to pop glocks. This was the tipping point that led to Jessi become the web's largest target of hate since that one guy who did something terrible to that cat somewhere. Even her hilariously angry drunk dad got involved and made a few cameos, tossing in a few one-liners which were passionately delivered while he squatted to get in view of his daughter's webcam. If this keeps up, HBO is going to give this family a television series. If that wasn't bad enough, another little girl known all over the world, Justin Bieber, was almost sent to perform for Our Glorious Leader Kim-Jong Il in North Korea after the internet decided to focus all of its energy into answering an online poll. Granted, he probably won't go, but that's because he knows they would detain him and make him share a cell with the national soccer team. If you need more proof of the internet's destructive power then take a look at Oregon. More specifically, the Oregon Tea Party, whose members decided it needed a slogan. Like most college students, they turned to Google so that they could plagiarize get inspired by someone else's work. Unfortunately, it seems they gave the task to an intern who came up with "We are Anonymous. We are Legion. We do not forgive. We do not forget. Expect us." That's a great slogan for a bunch of soccer moms and politicians, but an even better slogan for an online vigilante group called Anonymous, which was using it before the Tea-baggers came along. If the internet as a whole is a swarm of bees, then Anonymous is a swarm of android bees who listen to gangster rap—and you do not want to piss off a swarm of android-bees who listen to gangster rap. The Oregon Tea Party headquarters were flooded with emails and calls, and a day after the discovery was made, the slogan was changed (presumably to "Please stop with the male escorts").
So tread carefully when you browse, readers, the internet is an angry place that isn't afraid to chew you out. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to tell everyone on my Twitter that Justin Bieber is the best rapper alive.
CHAPTER 4
ALTERNATE TITLE: I HATE EVERYTHING.
Gay or Fat? You Decide
If you've been following the news recently, you'll see that everyone is pretty concerned with bullies and such, because I guess oil spills and Chilean earth-holes can only be relevant for so long. I have personally never been bullied, partially due to my height, but also because I was a "husky" kid—and when I say husky, I mean "the-whole-Iditarod-roster" husky. Except for the time in grade 6 when a girl who looked like a freckled Brock Lesnar punched me in the face after school, I have never been physically picked on. And it would be pretty hypocritical of me to condemn people for posting their opinions on the web seeing how that's what I do when I'm not running triathlons.
In honor of everyone wearing purple, which is apparently a "gay" color (you hear that, Justin Bieber?), I thought that I would take a look at another lifestyle choice that millions of people choose to make: being fat. If you think about it, the... how should I say this... gourmands, of our society are given a fairly good deal when compared to gays: they get their own parking spots, scooters with wire baskets, two seats on the plane, and access to the family change stall when using the local pool. With so many people being bullied because of their sexual orientation, I think it's time we took a hard look at who actually has it worse, gay or fat people. The following are three challenging questions these two groups of people face every day.
1. How Should You Make Friends?
The Fabulous
A gay male should have no problem fitting in with a group of women. To use a basketball analogy, for women a gay friend is like a solid point guard, someone who is always valuable for doing the little things while helping make the big plays when it matters. The gay male can offer advice on anything and women will listen to it like it's the gospel. Prepare for everything you do to be labelled "adorable." If you're a female-gay then I guess you can join a chain-gang or work at a Jamba Juice and hope to make friends that way or something.
The Full
If you're a large male then you might be able to get away with just wearing a backwards hat and Lacoste polo while getting alcoholically-obliterated at every party in the hopes of becoming "That Fun Fat Guy." However, if you're a female you may have a hard time finding a place you can fit... in. Girls are catty but if you find the right one you have a chance at being her emotional rock, someone whose friendship she'll constantly take for granted while she verbally belittles you. Don't worry though, if Disney movies have taught me anything it's that you can become prettier and skinnier than her after a 2-minute montage of you working out to "Let's Get Physical."
2. What Should You Wear?
The Fabulous
It's a well-documented fact that gay people can wear whatever the hell they want and make it come off as trendy, but did you also know that being gay gives you an automatic discount at American Apparel? All you have to do is blow the cashier (so I've heard).
The Full
Well, you don't have all that many options do you? You can throw on whatever fits your spherical body, but make sure that your clothes don't have any stripes, dots, pastels, colors, or any sort of pattern whatsoever. You do have the big advantage of being able to pull off a Hawaiian party shirt though! But so does the gay guy so I guess we'll chalk this up as another loss. However, if your government ever gets overthrown by a communist dictator who makes everyone wear neutral-toned uniforms then you'll be living on easy street!
3. Will You Get Laid?
The Fabulous
Yes. Simply and unabashedly yes. Men by nature try to have sex with everything and everyone they see. So you can only imagine what happens when two unstoppable forces meet each other, probably at a Starbucks with Lady Gaga plays in the background. The thing about queer-culture is that there an audience for everything, are you fat and hairy? Skinny and hairy? Young and pre-pubescent? Overly aggressive? That's fine, there's an animal term for every one of those things (Bear, Otter, Twink and Wolf in case you were wondering).
The Full
Outside of weird fetishes that some women might have, the only chance you'll have to get laid is if there's a very competitive bachelorette-scavenger-hunt that requires them to sleep with someone who's mass exceeds the parties combined weight. However, you could always start playing World of Warcraft in the hopes of meeting a nice girl there, or simply make a female account and bask in the attention that you'll get from the hundreds of nerds who are just as lonely as you! So there you have it, before making the important choice of what you want to do with your life, make sure to read these crucial guidelines. I only wish that I had something like this when I Decided that I would like to lead a straight lifestyle.
Race-y Fashion
I’m not sure if you’ve seen the Usher video for “OMG,” which is possibly the best named song of all time, after “LOL J” by Trey Songz, but it features William... er sorry, I mean will.i.am, making exaggerated hand movements while in a kilt. Seeing a black man dancing in a kilt ranks up there in my “lifetime hilarity moments,” but it also got me thinking about other things that black people shouldn’t wear because they make them look silly. Unfortunately, “kilt” is the first and last thing on that list, so I decided to think of things that black people can wear that white people can’t because that pretty much writes itself. Keep in mind, there’s a chance that when you read some of the items on the list you’ll say to yourself, “Hey Yaro, I know a white guy who wears that and he doesn’t look ridiculous.” You’re wrong, he does, and you’re in deep denial.
Sunglasses Indoors
Some designer sunglasses can go for thousands of dollars, which is a lot of money to spend on something that you can only wear when the sun is out. As a result, some “free-thinkers” have decided to maximize the value of their shades by wearing them at all times of the day: at Walmart, around the house, and most importantly, at the nightclub. This look is ridiculous because only two types of white guys wear sunglasses at clubs: hipsters, and guys who aren’t trying to be ironic. But both of them still look ridiculous. Wearing your wayfarers indoors make you look like a lost Blues Brother or a blind guy who stumbled into the club to find his dog. Black guys always have an excuse for wearing sunglasses though: they look cool, and they look like they’re on the job and doing something important (stealing girlfriends, holding up the wall, automatic-props-machine, etc).
Excessive Jewelry
If you’re white then you have no business wearing any sort of bling, unless you were born in Italy and have had a guy “whacked.” A watch or a small cross is fine, but any more than two chains and a medallion around your neck makes you look less like Tupac and more like a bootleg Paul Wall (which I guess is just a dopey kid from the South).
When black guys wear jewels, they go all out. Rappers don’t even get normal jewels anymore, they get jewels in the shape of things. Kanye West has a diamond Jesus head, Sean Kingston has a bejewelled Crayola Box, and Yung Joc just has a foot-long diamond-and-gold letter “H.” Come on, white people! Are you even trying??
Hats with Straight Brims and Stickers
When I go to the store and buy something, I make sure that all the tags are removed before I wear it out. That’s why I can’t understand why people buy hats and make sure not to remove a single sticker—not even the barcode—and then wear them around like that. If you want people to know that you have money to blow, then don’t leave the $50 price tag where everyone can see it; it just looks like you stole that hat.
Also, I know that some hats are meant for the brim to be kept straight at all times, but attention white people: you look stupid wearing it that way. Buy a hat that fits, take all stickers off of it, and then wear the hat around so that it can adjust to your head shape. As for black people, keep the stickers on. If anything, add more stickers; they’re cheap at Walmart and you can get gold stars and shit. With your shiny hat, thousand dollar shades, and your diamond Jesus head, you’re ready for a night on the town.
Vapid and Bedazzled
Hey bro, I see you’re shopping for a new shirt...sweet. What’s that, you’ve moved on from wearing shirts with seagulls on them and want to appear more masculine? Yeah I know what you mean, it’s time to get something classier and– oh, you’re getting an Ed Hardy shirt? Well in that case let me congratulate you on this new chapter in your life, one filled with glitter, embroidery, and fucking girls who like shiny objects (that’s you).
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(Pages 1-25 show above.)