I don’t know why I’ve tried to fight this for so long, but enough of this foolish denial…I’m sick of putting on airs for my peers…
…I love big, hot, dumb guys… I FUCKING LOVE THEM.
There…I said it.
I’m so sick of these fucking aging hipsters all in my face…condescending and shit…who think they are smarter…and hotter…than me….which for the record…you’re not…and I smell better too…what it be, bitch…and yes…I’m talking about you…you know who you are…or is it too “mainstream” for you to actually understand the meaning of this burn…or is there some obscure meaning that even I…the writer of this post… will never truly understand?
“You have a blog? …how mainstream.”
“You stole your sisters calculator watch? …how petty larceny.”
Let me try to make this a little more obscure for you…fuck off.
So yeah…okay fine…maybe my hot dumb guy does like high-fiving way too much than the average male should…but goddamn…he looks so good doing it.
And yeah…maybe I have to explain my little “jokes” some/most/every time we’re in public/alone/doing it.
But at least the hot dumb dude appreciates me for the only thing that really matters in life…my looks.
I’m sorry…I judge people based solely on their looks (and how much meat they can shove into their mouth in one sitting)…and I expect the same courtesy.
I want a man who only has enough brain capacity to focus on one thing at a time…usually me/sex/mayo/me eating a sandwich smothered in mayo while we’re sexing.
…and yeah…it’s not that weird to eat a cold-cut submarine while we’re doing it…okay? Sorry I wanted to make love to my favorite things in life…you/me/mayo…I thought…you…out of all people would have understood that….I can’t make that any more obscure for you.
So you can shove your… “You’ve never liked the taste of PBR?”… “You’ve never heard of death/metal/anarchy/unicorn -core?”… “You’ve never read the biography of Che Guevara?” comments up your fucking ass.
…and I hope you’re seething in the background of that party…pissed off…because yes…the dumb, hot guy has won…once again…and yes…that smell you’re smelling is the stench of your stale hair…and you know what? It’s all your fault… you’ve done this to yourself…
so..yes…drink up your PBR…go take your monthly shower…figure out the tip you will not be leaving your waiter on your calculator watch…. while I explain my latest “joke” to my new dumb hot guy… as he spoon feeds me nacho cheese from Taco Bell.
…and I’ll love every fucking minute of it.