I think someone is playing a joke on me and I have to admit I am finding it quite entertaining. For the sake of this exercise I will call it ‘The Idiot vs The Cashier’. It is a very complex practical joke so I will assume that Ashton will not be jumping out from behind the counter anytime soon, and based on the fact that it hasn’t involved a fart joke I will assume my college buddies are not involved. The premise is really straightforward, show up to a store that I am at and make sure that the cashier is helping someone that is a little imbalanced in front of me.
Case in point: the extremely Latina cashier trying to have a conversation with the Dragon-Con groupie about Power Bars vs. Cliff bars. While it may seem like she might be the expert on the benefits of whole grains in relationship to the volume of protein in said items I think something was lost in translation. No doubt the case of Diet Mountain Dew will offset any nutritional deficiencies in the final decision, it was a debate for the ages. I call this one; Hoop Earrings vs. Orthopedic shoes.
Case number two: Cat lady vs Cat dude. For the jokester this was an obvious meeting of the minds, but none the less effective. Any interaction with a Petsmart employee is bound to be filled with awkward moments and glassy eyed responses to my quick witted humor. Add in a sale on cat treats and accessories and painstakingly obviously hilarity was bound to ensue. The conversation was centered on what treat/ leash combo was most appropriate to train a cat to walk on a leash like a dog. You can’t make this shit up.
I have some errands to run tomorrow so I am sure my tormentors are furiously at work to find the socially inept to coordinate their New Year’s eve social calendars with my own. Locations that would be best to spring their next trap include the liquor store (Indian cashier vs drunk bum, “will Steel Reserve get me fucked up enough?”), the cheese counter at Whole Foods (hipster vs Lincoln park know it all mom on what cheese goes best with a rosé wine), or Party City (Highschool manager vs mom trying to buy 500 Justin Bieber balloons). Cant wait to see where the next trap is sprung!
A totally irrational look at social norms, human behavior, and random stuff that drives me crazy.
Friday, December 30, 2011
Monday, December 19, 2011
I am a sexy man.
I am a sexy son of a bitch. With my smoky blue eyes, thick dirty blonde hair and six pack abs, my sex appeal is undeniable. The proof? Have you seen my wife? She is smoking hot, so there is no way a lady like that marries a turd. We don’t even have to discuss my dazzling personality, expertise in the bedroom (or wherever my wife chooses to indulge in my goose bump inspiring touch) or startling ability to combine intelligence with humor. Sexy stare, subtle bounce of the eyebrows and a pouting of the lips, you are helpless.
Now that we have established my desirability I want to tell you what I have recently discovered that could potentially bring all of this to a screeching halt. Men don’t look sexy in the same outfits that women look sexy wearing. I am not talking about cross dressing here, even though that too is the case, but rather the potentially innocent outfit that bridges the gap from shower to fully dressed or transitioning from work to casual attire. Let’s call them accidental outfits. In order to preserve my delusions of erotica I have removed the following outfits from my wardrobe while simultaneously requesting these be worn by my wife at least once a week.
1. Dress shirt and no pants or underwear. Seeing flashes of my manhood bounce in and out of the shirt tails is not hot.
2. Black dress socks and white underwear. Need I explain?
3. Hoodie sweater shirt and underwear. It makes me look like a perverted Unabomber.
4. Just socks. Heads up fellas, put your boxers on first out of the shower.
5. An open robe. Now you see me now you don’t and peek a boo are equally disgusting phrases used to enhance this attire.
6. Naked.
7. Shoes without pants on, specifically dress shoes.
I will attempt to keep the transitional content in the house to a minimum specifically cut out the “Risky Business” move making the transition from clothed to naked as hidden as possible and I suggest you do the same.
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