The other day I was dominating in tetherball against this “Challenged” kid and I thought to myself, “You know what? I’m a pretty nice guy to be out here in the heat like this.”
Then I thought, “Well shit. I do a lot of nice things basically all the time!” It’s true really. I’m like a ray of goddamned sunshine and I’m not even talking about just to “challengeds” or whatever. I’m pretty nice to real people too!
Then I thought, “How is my life not better? Should I move the tetherball pole to the front yard so more attractive women can see the good deed I’m doing?” Then I dared the ”Challenged” kid to chew up the tether ball because I needed some “me time” to think on it.
To say that I connect on all cylinders in every aspect of my life is a gross understatement. I’m a hard worker, a solid citizen, and a social butterfly. But more like a wingless butterfly who has a real, human head instead of that little insect pea-head and who also has shiny, slicked-back hair, wears expensive velvet suits, and does a lot of cocaine.
I’m an alpha male thanks in large to my steadfast belief that men BUT ALSO women have an obligation to lead. I speak incredibly loud and have little tolerance for laziness. If I’m sitting in a restaurant and my order isn’t taken within the first ten minutes, I’ll march right up to the manager and yell at him. If he says something about how at this restaurant you’re supposed to order at the front, I’ll laugh in his teenaged face and tell him what an idiotic idea that is. Then I will say that I have a lot of friends and I will tell all of them not to eat at this “McDougal’s” place and then good luck staying in business after a few months of that. “It’s McDonald’s Sir,” he might say to which I’ll reply that I know how to fucking read. As I drive away from the restaurant, I’ll try to flex my muscles by squeezing the steering wheel in hopes that the other passengers will notice and momentarily cease losing respect for me.
A wise man once said that parties are not parties until I show up. How do I know? Hint: I am that wise man. Though I’m known to cut loose, I seldom relax entirely. My hectic schedule won’t allow for it. When I party, I party. Hard. I simply don’t have time to wait around for formalities like “finding out whose birthday it is” or “realizing that I’m not at the right house.” If I see cake, I’m going to dig in and I’m going to eat as much of it as I can until some guy I’ve never met before, but everyone is calling “Dad,” beats me …
Hours later, I’ll marvel at my perseverance as I demonstrate to a new group of friends this trick where I reach one of my handcuffed palms into my pocket and pull out some of his stash that I put there when “Dad” thought I was knocked out.
My relationships with women aren’t necessarily all about sex. Being the incredibly old-fashioned guy that I am, I enjoy a traditional date.
Assuming a night spent alone in my study drinking and calling ex-girlfriends to tell them about the “new me” until they hang up counts as a date, then yes. I suppose I’m a bit of a man about town. I’m also a religious man and in my opinion, there’s no better place for religion than in the bedroom. Because of this, I choose to let the act of intercourse make me feel incredibly guilty. So ladies, if we do go on a date please forgive me in advance…
While it’s true that I’m a bit of a traditionalist, I’m also not opposed to purposely break tradition. For instance, You go left, I go right. You go up, I go down. You look under the stall door to see if someone is in there, I look over it. And if someone is indeed in there I’ll ask him if he doesn’t mind scooting over a little. Regardless of how I do things, I know that I do them better of most of the assholes I’m surrounded by. Perhaps I don’t deserve the best in life, but I deserve better. At the very least, I deserve to have the people around me feel like they deserve worse. Why? Because I’m a fucking good person. That’s why.
I LOVE YOU,
WorkFarce
