That Friend Zone Girl

And so we will make our triumphant return with something special: our very first posts targeting the opposite sex. Oh, did you ladies thing you were immune? Too perfect to suffer our wrath? Far from it, we've been saving our worst specifically for all of you.

Today I'm gonna be unleashing my caged fury on the vilest of you menstruating banshees, the Friend Zone Girl. If you're a heterosexual male, you will enter the friend zone at some point in your life, it's simply inevitable. It's a rite of passage, like your first fight, or your first swig of alcohol. But while the previous two are accomplishments to be proud of, entering the friend zone is a horrific experience that will never be washed from your psyche.

You know how when you're over 18 years old, but still not 21, you're in that social limbo? You can go out with your friends, you can get into certain places, but you still haven't gained the ability to order a beer? That's what the friend zone is like, except that you never turn 21. You stay 20 and 364 days forever and ever, reliving that last day like the worst version of Groundhog Day imaginable.

But how can you know if you're in the friend zone? Well, that's what I'm here for, to help you understand the signs. If you're unsure of your current situation, ask yourself these questions:

1. Am I friends with a girl?
2. Do we hang out alot?
3. Does it seem that we're into alot of the same things?
4. Do I think she and I would make a great couple?
5. Is the only thing keeping us from being together her jerk of an ex-boyfriend that she's constantly off-again, on-again, off-again with, etc?
6. Does she come to me for advice when things go sour with said ex-boyfriend?
7. Does she say that she wishes all guys were nice like me?
8. Does she Always go back to said ex-boyfriend?

If you've made it this far without a no answer, you have my condolences; you are in the friend zone. But I digress; I'm not here to talk about the friend zone, but rather to verbally eviscerate the rotten cunt that put you there in the first place.

The first thing you'll hear from guys in the friend zone when confronted is that "she's a nice girl, she's just going through some tough times." Bullshit. She is not a nice girl, she is completely, completely aware of what she is doing. A classic joke is the man that is granted four wishes by a genie, and he wishes for a woman that's an excellent cook, great in the sack, and loaded with money. And then he wishes that they never meet each other. This girl, this FZG is basically using you to supplement her asshole of a boyfriend. With his popular social status and your compassion, she can create an ideal boyfriend...but she gives him the sex and you the nagging. She knows that if she nagged him, he'd just up and leave, because he's not a dumbass. But she can't hold it in, because women love nothing more than complaining. So remember that time you told her "anytime you wanna talk, I'll be here"? Oh yea, she didn't forget.

And don't think for a second that you're the only person she's done this to. FZGs are repeat offenders. Every man, given enough time, will eventually smarten up and leave the friend zone as a wiser, but damaged person. And when that happens, she'll sing her siren song, and another poor fellow will be enchanted by her spell, lured with false hopes of a relationship only to discover he's nothing more than a verbal punching bag and a shoulder to lean on.

The worst thing is that while everyone escapes eventually, it's never, ever easy. Being in the friend zone is like being infected with a slow-moving toxin. As time goes on it keeps spreading and you keep getting weaker and weaker. And it's not something that another person can pull you out of. She makes you such a firm believer in the fact that someday, she'll leave that zero and get with a hero(you), that you'll ignore the advice of your closest friends, not realizing that they've been there, and they know what's coming.

Why does the FZG do this? Because she's a bitch, to sum it up. Too lazy to actually work on her relationship, but too weak-willed to realize that it's destined to end in catastrophe. At the same time, she's too worried about social status to leave him for you, but enjoys having you around as her fall-back too much to tell you that you stand no chance. If there was ever a definition of someone just being and not doing, this is it.

So for all the psyches you've destroyed, all the promises you've failed to keep, all the girls that your puppet has missed out on because he believed that you were "totally gonna dump that loser this week", for all the cynical, introverted, untrusting men you've created, I say fuck you. Go fuck a chainsaw.

That "Start a blog and then abandon it for a few months" Guy

We're not dead yet.

That Oblivious Casanova Guy

Congratulations, Mr. Oblivious Casanova Guy. While most of the shit-sucking wastes of life featured on this site do nothing but make me wanna curbstomp infants, you actually manage to make me laugh and entertain me. No one's quite sure how you ever got the idea, but at some point in your life you decided that you were (insert deity)'s gift to women. And despite the astronomical number of girls you manage to take home(zero), you've never swayed in this opinion of yourself. I'd suggest taking a step back and looking at yourself, but you'd probably become enamored and start masturbating to your visage.

The Casanova isn't a difficult guy to spot. Just scan your surrounding area for the hottest group of girls, and within moments he'll be slinking up to them, ready to work some of that foolproof charm he's got. Do you know how it feels when you're extremely exhausted and dehydrated, and just want to drink something cold? So you pour yourself a cold glass of milk because it's the only thing in the fridge. And first there's that moment of refreshment, the look of relief on your face as you feel your body being recharged. But a split second later, you realize that the milk's gone bad and your expression contorts so much it looks like something out of the Kama Sutra. That is what happens to a woman when she realizes that this sad sack is talking to her. She'd already noticed his presence in the bar/restaurant/etc, because like men, women scout an area when they enter. Within 3 seconds of walking into a room, everyone has been given a mental rank and rating, and the Casanova's wasn't anything to write home about. But when she sees him moving in her direction, and realizes that he is actually going to attempt to hit on her? You can't fake that kind of distress. I'm fully convinced that OJ Simpson could pull up in a white Bronco offering a ride, and she'd take it in a heartbeat just to get away from this delusional creep.

How's this all play out in his mind? "Maybe I came on too strong...must've intimidated her with these rugged looks." Yea, I'm sure that the sight of your 5 ft 3 in frame and meticulously combed jewfro drove her so far up the wall she had to leave before she creamed herself right then and there. It definitely didn't have anything to do with the Bud Light in your hand(a sure sign of a fucking moron) or the half bottle of cologne that you willingly bathe yourself in on a daily basis. No, these chicks just couldn't keep their composure around such a stallion.But hey, that won't dissuade you. Nope, you'll just spin that visor around and head to the next flock, trying a much smoother approach that's guaranteed to work. Wait, did I say smooth? I meant to say you'd use some crappy pickup line like "It must've hurt when you fell from heaven" and then assume that their silence means they're in awe of your poetic mastery. I don't know if there's anyone in existence that has an attempt-to-failure ratio like you. But in truth sir, I salute you. Because fine folks like yourself make me look God-like in comparison. You keep on popping that collar; the world loves you, they just don't know it yet.

That Bandwagon Sports Fan Guy

What's that up in the sky? It's a bird! It's a plane! No, it's a sports team suddenly rising from the realm of mediocrity into the national spotlight!

Welcome once again to the blog that never ends, blah blah blah, witty introduction. Today we will take a look at one of the longest tenured guys, the bandwagon sports fan. Unlike the other wastes of life we've profiled on this website, the bandwagon sports fan is very easy to identify in public. Regardless of what city or state you live in, he can usually be found wearing the apparel of whatever team is currently sitting atop their league(currently Tampa Bay Rays, Boston Celtics, Tennessee Titans), or whatever team has a tendency to have a huge regular season, only to fail in the playoffs when it counts(Dallas Cowboys, New York Yankees, Los Angeles Lakers).

As opposed to true sports fans, who will stick with their chosen team through the best(3 Super Bowls in 4 years) and the worst(The Drew Bledsoe years), the bandwagon sports fan exists solely to root for whoever is most likely to finish their season as the champion. Said team will usually feature a polarizing star player that is hated by the media for his arrogance, but at the same time respected for his skill(see Owens, Terrell and Bryant, Kobe). The bandwagon fan will claim that player x is merely misunderstood by all of the media, and his ego and uncaring attitude towards his teammates merely represents his desire to motivate said teammates to win. But of course when player x loses, the blame rest solely on his teammates for not providing him with enough support. I mean, it's absurd to think that one man can carry an entire franchise on his back without a slight modicum of help.

For the most part, a bandwagon sports fan is financially successful, because it takes quite a lot of money to repeatedly buy new sports jerseys every season for whoever is the "it" player or team. For the NBA, it's been the Bulls, Lakers, Celtics, Cavaliers, Nuggets, and Spurs. In the MLB, the throne has always belonged to the Yankees, with the Red Sox, Cubs, White Sox, and now the Rays bringing up the rear. And in the NFL, it's frequently been Cowboy country, with some of the bandwagoners siding with the Colts and my beloved Patriots(go root for someone else, you assfucks). The only criteria to lure them in is an affinity for regular season dominance, during which the bandwagon fan will indulge in an insane amount of trash talk. Of course, when the playoffs roll around and their team meets with a first round exit at the hands of the team that barely stole a wild card spot, they'll disappear and hibernate for the offseason, before reemerging with a new jersey and a new team to root for. It's like a snake shedding its skin, but only if its dignity came off along with it.

Sports fans recognize that bandwagon fans are the worst fans in existence. If they latch on to a team you like, their stupidity and arrogance is usually enough to turn every other fanbase against you(see Patriots, 2007). If they latch on to a team you're indifferent to, they'll barely break a sweat making you hate said team with every inch of your being. And just like a hurricane, once the damage has been done and their team of choice is now public enemy #1, they'll quickly move on to the next successful fanbase while leaving yours in shambles. It's not even known if they're actual sports fans and know the Xs from the Os, or just want to wear a cool jersey. But regardless of their beginnings, few can argue with the fact that they must be exterminated as soon as possible, before there are no pure teams left to cheer for.

Center of Attention Guy

Every group of friends has certain roles that must be filled. There's the voice of reason, that usually talks you out of the extremely stupid decisions. There's the daredevil, who uses alcohol as an elixir of life and convinces himself that he can do anything, five times better than anyone else. And then there's the Center of Attention Guy, a guy as devoted to the spotlight as Paris Hilton is devoted to dick.

It doesn't matter what the situation or location is, Center of Attention Guy is under strict orders from his overinflated ego that he must live up to his name, and be the first and last thought to cross the minds of everyone present. This is a man that wouldn't hesitate to give you oxygen, but only because he doesn't believe that there is any air present in space where you(along with the rest of the world) revolve around him. Whether he's making up stories, or speaking of genuine experiences, it's simply unacceptable that anyone else have anything of interest to say.

What's that? You're going mountain climbing this weekend? Well that's no longer important, because Center of Attention guy once climbed Mt. Everest. By himself. And then pulled down 30 orphans that were stranded at the top. You're meeting your favorite football player? CoA guy not only went to college with Tom Brady, but they regularly hang out, and Brady actually asks him for tips on improving his spiral. You single-handedly redirected a meteor that was going to end all life on Earth? CoA guy's done it twice, the second time while nursing two broken legs from the time he wrestled 5 grizzly bears and rescued a dozen nuns.

From the snobby to the absurd, Center of Attention guy will do whatever it takes to ensure that only what he says matters, no matter who it means undermining, or how many blatant lies it means spouting. Whether you believe it or not, it'll be in your mind, and that means that he's done his job. He's hijacked your brain and is using it for his own narcissistic means, pleasuring himself in front of the mirror to the idea of his clones, inhabiting the depths of all your minds. Don't give him this power. He tries to stretch the truth, stretch it even farther. Anything he says, don't hesitate in any way to overrule him.

...or, you could just backhand the guy. Whatever works.

That Crusader Guy

(Don LaFontaine voice over)

In a world...with normal people...where casual, ordinary conversations are the norm...one man had something to say...an agenda...a crusade!

Welcome once again to this corner of the internet, where we dissect the douchebags that have become a part of all our daily lives, and teach you how to deal with them for once and for all. Our guest of honor today is That Crusader Guy. AKA, the one person we all know that always has a cause. Whether it's standing up for the western Kentucky Luchador Cockroach, or demanding that circus clowns be allowed to have polygamous relationships, the Crusader will always have something to fight for, and no matter how disinterested you might seem, will devote more time recruiting others into the fold than they do actually fighting for said cause.

The most difficult thing about a Crusader is that they're sometimes impossible to detect until it's too late. Everyone has different interests and hobbies, and as a result, anyone is capable of latching onto any cause. Now, I'm not attacking people that choose to be active in whatever they're passionate about. I would expect that if you truly care about something, you'll make your voice heard if it's necessary. No, I'm talking about the person that latches onto any and all causes, just for the sake of being "active in the world". Long story short, protesting and being an activist makes them cool. They'll be as equally opposed to Starbucks as they are meat and the lack of sandals for the homeless.

Usually, by the time a crusader has been identified, there is no option for escape and you'll be forced to listen to their speil about how x is being unfairly held down by y and that we're the only ones that can change that. You could be sitting around discussing a movie you recently watched, and the Crusader will make it a point to inform you that 10 years ago the director posed in a picture with someone that once bought a Nike wristband, which means that said movie is supporting sweatshops. Before you even have a chance to react and comment on the level of absurdity in the statement you just heard, and endless sea of pamphlets are being tossed at you, along with 5 different protests planned for the next month at 5 locations with no real link to each other or the nonexistent problem.

And of course, if you make the mistake of stating that said problem doesn't really concern you, the Crusader will look at you as if you just devoured their infant child right before their very eyes. Not beliving in a cause they rant to you about basically means that not only do you support it, but on weekends you probably fly overseas just to use cattle prods on those children so they can make those sneakers even faster. You're a monster, and the only way they know how to respond to you is...by leaving more pamphlets. Everywhere. On your desk, snuck into your coat pocket, under your windshield wiper. Clearly the problem is that you don't know the truth, so it must be force-fed to you until you have seen the error of your ways. Or until you finally snap and return every single one of those pamphlets to the Crusader...rectally of course.

The worst thing about the Crusader is that they can never truly be stopped. It's like cutting the head off of a hydra, two more will grow in its place. The best a person can do is either lie like a madman, to the point where they believe you're supporting the cause in your own private way, or go in the opposite direction and do everything in your power to make them hate you and leave you alone(which would really be much better). But whatever path you decide to take, do it quickly, before you find yourself at a singalong in a tie-dye shirt.

Those Human Wall Guys

So based on previous posts, you could probably guess that I'm not a person that possesses a great deal of patience, and you would be right. I'm not some maniac that always flies off the handle at every little incident, but there are certain things that will never fail to send me into a near-murderous rage, and the Human Wall is one of them. The Human Wall is basically what happens when you have a group of people walking down the sidewalk, who decide that it would be a brilliant idea to walk side-by-side, and completely obstruct the path of anyone else that wants to move in either direction. The most common perpetrators are teenage girls (who walk this way so that they can discuss such important topics as their new shade of lipstick) and the elderly (who knows what their reasons are for anything), but they're far from the only ones guilty.

No matter how many people give them dirty looks while walking in the street to pass them, they remain completely oblivious to the fact that the only thing their mindless chit-chat will accomplish is turning a legion of pedestrians behind them into a blood-hungry mob. You would probably have a better chance of getting past the Minnesota Vikings defensive line than actually breaking through this whiny, high-pitched blockade.

The absolute worst thing is the speed. If they were at least moving at a normal pace, it wouldn’t pose as much of a problem, because you could just follow behind and then make a turn when necessary. But no, whenever these groups get together, it’s as if all of their gravitational pulls tug at each other and slow the entire mass down to about 1mph. They're the pedestrian equivalent of the 95 year old man driving his Oldsmobile, squinting through his inch-thick spectacles (to old people, they're always spectacles, not glasses) barely peeking over his steering wheel, and using all of the force in his arthritis-riddled leg to push down on the gas pedal and burn rubber at an amazing 23mph on the fucking highway…only to later realize he’s no longer on the highway, and is seconds away from crashing through a donut shop.

The time has come for us to stand up against these traitorous bastards, attempting to deny us of the right to walk on the sidewalk freely. No more will we be slowed to a snail’s pace! No more will we be forced to use the street to pass and risk bodily harm or worse. From this day forth, if you see a Human Wall, feel free to drop your shoulder, charge right through them, and let em know who the fuck you are:

Express Ride to Drunkville Guy

Someone's throwing a party, whether it's a close acquaintance or a friend of a friend of a friend. Regardless of who it is, it's a party, and there will be booze and women and fun times to be had. So you meet up with a friend or two and head over there to partake in the festivities. But within 5 minutes of walking through the doorway and saying hi to everyone there, you turn to see your friend has already chugged a beer and is hard at work on his second. Ladies and gentlemen, this man is on an express ride to drunkville.

Everyone has that friend. Whoever it was that passed on the laws of manhood decided it was a good idea to tell him to get as drunk as possible, as quickly as possible. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not some sort of anti-liquor nazi, demanding that everyone stick to Zimas and Mike's Hard Lemonades with a side of castration. It's a well known fact that I like to get drunk and there are countless embarrassing stories that prove this. But the fact is that there's a time and a place to get completely fucked up, and that's the only time it should happen.

Let's say there's about 10-15 of you meeting up to watch football, either college or pro. You're basically in it for the long haul, as games usually run from 1pm to about 11pm, and that's with no overtime. Now, if Drunkville Guy immediately starts throwing back everything with a warning label for pregnant women, he's gonna find himself cradling the toilet bowl and heaving up those nachos(or pine-sol) he ate.

Normally, if someone is making an ass of themselves, then they're on their own. You take photos, crack jokes, then carry on about your business. But if said person came to the party with you, then you two are linked. To anyone there that doesn't know you, you will be known as "the guy that brought the drunk asshole". And if you were planning on talking to any women or getting some numbers? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's not gonna happen. It's like having a good wingman. You know that there might be times when he needs to drink to take one for the team, but he still knows that control is key. If he's not sober and coherent enough to keep up his end of the bargain, then neither of you will be making some lucky woman swear off drinking the next morning. You'd probably make less of a negative impression if you took a shit in the host's fish tank.

While it's unfair that you should be held responsible for the actions of others, the sad truth of it is that those are the rules. Women travel in packs, and trying to pull one away is like taking a grizzly cub from its mother. They'll do and say anything to keep that one girl from going off with you, and having Drunky McBoozenstein on his knees proposing to a bar stool is just the ammunition they need. Teach the lesser ones amongst you, because you both will benefit from a well executed gameplan. Not that there aren't times where drinking yourself into oblivion is the right call to make.

Out Of His Element Guy

"Shut the fuck up Donny, you're out of your element!"

Out Of His Element Guy. Unlike some of the other guys we've featured on this blog, this dude isn't nearly as specific and can be found almost anywhere. The simple definition is Out Of His Element Guy is in his name; he's out of his element. I'm not talking about someone similar to the Out Of Place Guy from concerts, he just sticks out from the crowd visually. No, this is the guy who believes he's the authority of everything, even if he's been doing _____ for 4 weeks and you've been doing _____ for 7 years. It never fails, whenever you find yourself hanging out with friends discussing any topic, whether it's sports, books, politics, gardening, or the tangiest mustard, he's always going to politely share his opinion. And by that I mean obnoxiously interrupt someone and open with some line like "Well my father was a legendary cat shaver..." which he thinks gives him more knowledge than anyone else.

There are two breeds of this guy, one is the how-to, and the other is the critic. The how-to shows his face whenever there's something to be done, or a problem to be solved. Hear a rattling sound in your dashboard? How-To used to pay an ex-mechanic to buy him booze, so he knows the problem and solution. Trying to think of a way to makeup with your girlfriend after a fight? How-To's read all 40 volumes of the manual on dating, despite the fact that he's been single for as long as you've known him. From setting up your HDTV to time travel, he's got the answer you seek, and it's a shame that such a powerful mind isn't being put to work by science. If the world ever comes to an end, I'm certain that somewhere in his room there lies a napkin with a formula that could have prevented it, if only we had listened.

The Critic is the guy I find myself dealing with(and as a result, completely loathing) most of all. He is an authority on all things, and his judgement is not to be questioned. Say for example you're discussing sports, and The Critic expresses his dislike of football, which is just "a bunch of guys hitting each other, something that requires no intelligence or strategy at all". Of course The Critic doesn't even follow sports, and if he truly believes that, I know a few coaches with some 600-page playbooks they'd like to show him.

My favorite one of all is the music critic. As I've stated before, I listen to alot of heavy metal, leaning towards the more extreme stuff. I understand that to most people, it's simply too abrasive, and that's fine. But along comes the Critic, who states that the reason he dislikes metal is because "it doesn't take any talent, it's just playing random notes as fast as you can and gurgling into a microphone". Meanwhile, he loves U2 and Fallout Boy and thinks that Kurt Cobain is the world's greatest guitarist. Oh, and he's also never touched a musical instrument in his life. There are many generalizations made about heavy metal music(it's all satanic, it's all noise, etc), but for someone to actually state that it's a talentless genre is one of the most ridiculous statements a person can make. Obviously, if he's around people that don't know any better, they'll simply take his word for it. But saying such things in the presence of a person that actually knows what they're talking about is one of the fastest ways to have yourself branded a moron.

Now, I don't know why this guy exists. I don't know what the reason is that makes him feel he's justified in pretending to be an expert in things he knows nothing about. But in the end, absolutely no good can come from it. I don't care what your college roommate's dealer's cousin's friend said about upgrading a computer, if I want advice I'll ask someone that actually knows what they're talking about. So until a question is posed directly at you, shut the fuck up Donny; you're out of your element.

Special Edition: That Concert Guy

Last Friday I went to Worcester to catch the almighty Carcass on their reunion tour(amazing, amazing show). The lineup was surprisingly solid, since most shows in this area consist of one or two good metal bands, and then some crappy hardcore or metalcore support. But as awesome as a concert might be, there are always those certain people in the crowd that seem to exist for no purpose but to drive your blood pressure up the wall. So today I'm gonna spotlight the various people that you do not want to be at a concert.


1. Personal Mosh Pit Guy
Now if you've ever been to a concert at a decent sized venue, you know that crowds can vary in size. Early on, while the opening band is playing, the audience is just walking around, passing time, and most people aren't even there yet. But by the time the headliner is performing, practically everyone is on the floor, pushing towards the stage, and people are packed in tighter than a japanese subway. It's uncomfortable, but that's just the way it goes at concerts, so you deal with it. Well, most deal with it. Personal Mosh Pit Guy is apparently unable to contain his enthusiasm, and decides that right then and there, shoulder to shoulder with everyone around him, he has to mosh. Not headbang, not pump his fist and throw the horns, but full on, pushing everyone in all directions mosh. And it's not some claustrophobic freakout, as if he's trying to make some space. He'll just keep going and pushing and shoving, rocking out to the music, completely oblivious to the increasingly pissed off crowd around him. Why he feels this need, no one knows. But I'd be lying if I said metalheads weren't prone to aggression and violence, and guys like this are just throwing gas on the fire.

2. The Bill Withers Fan
Why Bill Withers? Because this guy always seems to lean on me. I'm just standing around, watching the band perform and getting into it, when I feel someone push into my back. It's fine, I have my back to the mosh pit, it's to be expected. People bump you, and then go off in some other random direction, nothing new. Except this guy doesn't go off in another direction. I turn around, wondering if he lost his balance or something, but no. He's merely using me as a wall to lean on while he plays the sickest air guitar solo ever. Nevermind the fact that playing air guitar in the pit is retarded, but he apparently looks at me and sees "post to lean on". I guess when there's that much metal coming out of your air Les Paul, you don't have the energy to stand on your own. So of course I elbowed him off of me. Did he fall or something? Damned if I know, I'm just a wall.

3. The Eager Student
My friend Bob pointed this one out to me, it's a variation on the traditional spin-kick, punch-the-floor hardcore kid. Seeing as how flailing around like a kung fu student having a seizure doesn't seem to show people how much of a failure you are, these guys decide to wear a backpack at the same time. Filled with textbooks. I understand, the show was earlier than usual(5pm), maybe you didn't have time to drop your bag off at home. But if you have a bag full of textbooks, please, there is no fucking reason for you to go into the pit. It's already hazardous enough with the spin kicks, the last thing someone needs is to have your Calculus textbook break their nose. If you've got a bag, stay out of the pit.

4. Out of Place Guy(idea by Paulina)
You know the out of place guy, he's a hard dude to miss. No matter whether it's a metal show, some frat-boy soft rock, or what. I'm not saying that concerts should have dress codes, but come on. If someone is attending a Nile concert(brutal death metal for those that don't know), and you've got all the usual suspects there(guy wearing all black, guy wearing all black and a denim vest, guy wearing black nazi shirt, etc), and then you see him. Big dude, long hair, moshing in the pit with everyone else.....wearing a tie-dye shirt. Nothin against the guy personally, because he seems to be into the music as much as everyone else...but he just looks out of place. Like maybe he took a wrong turn somewhere, but he's a really laid back dude. So he just said "Fuck it, I'll stay here". It's like being arrested by a cop in bicycle shorts and a hawaiian shirt, it just makes for a very confusing situation.

5. The Classic: Sweaty, Shirtless Fat Guy
One of the most common, but worst guys to ever have to encounter. There isn't much to say about him, the name pretty much sums him up. I understand it gets hot at concerts, especially as more and more people pile into the venue. But once you lose the shirt, you're crossing a line. You think Personal Mosh Pit Guy and The Bill Withers Fan are annoying as is? Imagine them both as fat sweaty shirtless guys. My friend Liz was surrounded by sweaty clothed guys, and her vest was completely and utterly covered in sweat. Imagine what it would have been like if they had been shirtless, with no added protection between flesh and you. It's cruel, and all it takes is one guy to lose his balance moshing, and slam his sweaty manboob into the side of your face to completely ruin the concert experience.

I hope this guide can help you during your concert experiences. With hard work, we can eliminate these guys from all venues and make them all safer places for you and me.

That jinxing guy

Back in the day, Bro-ses went up to the mountain to seek guidance, and ask what was the path that men should follow in the world. He came down with a list of commandments, hastily scrawled on a taco bell napkin. Few know it, but this napkin has outlined basic tasks that all men are responsible for. For example, Commandment IV states that "Ye Shall Never Let Thy Friend Forget That He Hath Plowed A Fatty", and Commandment IX is "If Thine Drinking Is Ever Questioned, Thou Must Engage In A Drink-Off, Or Thy Manhood Will Be Revoked". The simplest and most basic one merely states that "Thou Must Always, always, ALWAYS Giveth Shit To Thine Friends, Without Fail". And this is the one that usually separates the men from the boys. If your friend manages to utterly annihilate you with a burn, will you get pissed and demand he apologizes? Or will you counter him with such force that his entire family loses consciousness? It's your duty to never surrender, even if it means reminding him about when he pissed his pants in the second grade. No mercy, guys.

There are countless methods of shit-talking employed between friends. There's the classic "Your mom/aunt/sister/grandma/other female relative", the questioning of one's sexuality, and of course the implication that one likes to get fucked by wild horses. But one that few use is the power of the jinx. The jinx is unpopular because it's not an every-situation response, but if used in the proper setting, it can devastate like nothing else. One scenario is as follows: You and your friend are out somewhere, when he sees a girl he wants to ask out. He's just blabbing on and on about her positives. So you throw out a casual "Haha, I bet she used to be a man. Look at those hands, they're huge." And of course, you look at her, and she looks like a woman, because she is one. But those hands are kinda big. So now your infatuation has turned into hesitation and doubt. The entire time you're talking to her, you're staring at her tits, but only to see if they're implants. Practically boring a hole in her neck with your eyes, looking for the slightest hint of an adam's apple. Basically, there's no way to save the situation. Either your friend is right, and the jinx has come to pass, or he's wrong, but the seed of doubt has become planted to far in your head to salvage this.

Playing poker? "You're totally gonna lose all your money tonight". Going to a party? "You're gonna puke tonight and make an ass of yourself". The jinx can and will show up anywhere. Of course, 9 times out of 10, it doesn't come to pass. But the one time that it does can be the deadliest of all. Say for example, someone that shall go unnamed(but writes for this blog and isn't named OD) spends the entire NFL offseason reminding you about 18-1 at every opportunity possible, and says something along the lines of "They've been good for too long, you know it's gotta end now. Watch, he's(referring to Tom Brady) gonna get injured in his first game". And I tell him to shut the fuck up of course, because the guy's never missed a game. But in the back of my head, I know that the jinx has been summoned. The wheel of fate is turning, deciding if this one shall come to pass, or be left to die. I'd all but forgotten about this jinx, and was enjoying the Patriots home opener at a bar when tragedy struck.

Yea, fucking with your friends and giving them shit is fun. But if there's any lesson you take away from this blog, DON'T BE THAT JINXING GUY. All it takes is one motherfucker going in low after your quarterback to teach you that the jinxing gods do not fuck around. If you keep calling them out, making jinx after jinx, eventually one of them will come to pass. Not to mention, if you jinx me, and it comes true, I will devote my life to jinxing the ever loving hell out of your life. I'm getting voodoo dolls and everything. So for your own safety, to avoid the wrath of the jinxed, don't be that guy.

Pee Pal Guy

So here’s the scenario. You’re out at a bar or restaurant, hanging out with friends, having a few drinks. All of a sudden, you feel nature’s call, and excuse yourself to go to the bathroom. You walk in to find that the gods have smiled upon you; the bathroom is empty. So you pick a urinal, and start to take care of business. All of a sudden, someone else enters the bathroom. Regardless of the fact that you’re using urinal #2 out of 7 and have given this guy plenty of other urinals to choose from, he decides to park himself over at urinal #3. Maybe he’s just a lonely fellow. Maybe he’s gay and wants to sneak a peek at your junk. Maybe he has a chronic phobia of pissing by himself, who knows. But for one reason or another, this guy always makes a beeline for the urinal next to the one being used.

Being there, and having someone just come over next to me and start pissing, it’s confusing. I’m trying to focus on the task at hand while at the same time wondering why he chose me, what it was that made him come over here. It’s like having someone at the bar sit next to you and just watch you drink. There’s no logical reason for it. So now of course I’m trying to finish up, accelerate the process. So you try to give that little push, get the stream out a few seconds faster. Because you don’t know what this guy has planned, you need to just finish up and get out of there. Panic sets in, it’s not going fast enough, you give it another push, and then it happens. You pushed a little too hard, and let out a nice long fart. So now, instead of him being the weirdo that you’d be telling your friends about, you’re the guy that blew ass next to him while he was pissing. The tables have turned, and now you’re that guy. And god forbid it was a wet one, because now you’d have to make the walk of shame into the stall to clean yourself up, all because one guy had to piss next to you. So please Pee Pal Guy, it's time to learn independence and piss on your own. Don't be that guy.

(hat tip to P.O. for the title)

Introductions

P.O.- Hello there, I am P.O. I am a 22 year old college graduate living in Boston, MA. I am a rider of the T, an avid movie-goer as well as frequenting several bars and restaurants around the cities ranging from hole-in-the-wall dives to the extravagant. I work full time at one of the many colleges in Boston and spend my free time trying to escape That Guy.

I go by OD. I'm 23 years old, also living in Boston. I'm a metalhead and an aspiring writer, but in the meantime I'm content to drink frequently and contribute nothing to society.