That Thirsty Flirt

Ah yes, we have returned. Where have we been? Nowhere interesting, and also, none of your godamn business. Yet from the depths of wherever the hell I was, I realized something. That guy has specifically done just men. We're a lot of things here at that guy, but Sexist isn't one of them. Well... kinda. Probably. To a small degree but who isn't. That being said, let this entry be one to chronicle one of the many girls who make our lives a living nightmare. Let us talk about that thirsty flirt.

That thirsty flirt is a member of the mooch family. However, whereas most of us merely feel sorry for the mooch, or in order to not be annoyed give in to his annoying begs for something, that thirsty flirt is a woman. And therein lies the difference. Women tend to have hypnotic powers, usually on their chest and we are cast into a zombie like state when we are near them. It is such a power that the evil woman uses to prey on her male counterparts.

That thirsty flirt has no money of her own, yet does not want to go to a bar and remain sober. Therefore that thirsty flirt will giggle, bat her eye lashes, talk to and otherwise lead on any man who makes eye contact with her. (Similar to a bum panhandling but with tits). This girl will tell you everything you say is interesting and make a guy's ego seem overly inflated. Then, in this catatonic trance of being complimented by a girl and not having adequate blood flow to his brain (blood leaves the logic centers of the brain first), he buys that thirsty flirt a drink. But there in lies the rub. After that thirsty flirt is able to squeeze a drink out of our unlucky gentleman example, she vanishes. Like a fat roommate feasting on your chips while you're not in the room, before you know what's going on, they're gone. That thirsty flirt knows that after a certain amount of drinks, you will get wise to her ploy and cuts her losses. Still dazed and confused from her mammarian magic and dizzy from a lack of blood flow to your brain, you awkwardly stand there. That thirsty flirt then stalks for her next prey.

This is unacceptable. One should not be able to get drinks merited on hotness alone. It is one thing to buy a drink for someone, it is another to lead them on in order to get a drink. I'm sorry, I can't write off "Skankdrink" on my taxes, it looks like you'll have to drink water the rest of the night. It is girls like that who are on Maury, with 12 possible fathers for a baby she had on a night drinking. Classy, fucking classy. I hope she gets fed gasoline on that free drink so her insides rot.

But there is a silver lining. Like all creatures, big and small, her one true weakness is age. Soon her full, supple breasts shall sag and wrinkle like an old Honeydew. Her full lips and beautiful face will slowly start to look like tissue paper on playdough. And her figure will go from attractive to Rosie O'Donnell. Then ladies and gentleman, the most wonderful thing will happen. She will die. Unable to get sustenance, that thirsty flirt will wander bar to bar, trying to find one desperate man who will buy her an inappropriately named drink for her company.

And then, she will resort to walking the streets, just to make herself feel pretty again. And then she will be seen by the men she has scorned. And one by one over the course of her life, she will have to pay back those men for every single drink she had. By drinking something from the men on their own terms.

Everytime that whore swallows, and angel gets his wings, and a hypnotized man, gets his vindication.

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 Trendy Costume Guy

Ya wanna know how I got this Redsox Calendar?

And it is time for another installment of arguments against Darwinism, otherwise called That Guy. This week's that guy is one I am sure we are all familiar with and have had to suffer through over this wonderful weekend. I am talking about that trendy costume guy. From Neo to Jack Sparrow to the Joker, we can't escape that hoard of movie watching fanboys who want to be just like their big screen idols, to an infinitely shittier degree.

First and foremost that guy, you are not the Joker. Despite being a great role, Heath Ledger doomed us all by playing a psychopath dressed in clown makeup with a very easily copied voice. Therefore we already have droves of idiots who want to be this caked on sorry excuse of a costume. At least when Pirates of the Carribean was out, Jack Sparrow had a voice that was somewhat challenging to copy and thus no one walked around like they were in a drunken stupor, at least purposefully.

Halloween is a time for creativity. At the very least, be someone boring, something that's been done, something that takes more than "Hmm, that looks cool and everyone knows who that is and has a backstory, I'll be that." The worst part is though, despite being a costume of sheer laziness and uncreativity, that guy thinks he is being completely original and awesome. Maybe you and the forty seven other Jokers parading around the street. Great minds do think alike. Well, so do lemmings. Why don't you all go run off a cliff on a pile of syringes filled with AIDS. Then tell me where you got those scars and that abnormally low T-cell count.
That guy is incredibly frustrating because he is not a guy in costume, he is the character who shows up to your party, except he drinks your booze and tries to recite every single line from the movie in every possible context.

The Joker was particularly bad this Halloween. Everywhere I looked it looked like some sort of emo scenester clown college convention. All of them trying to out-Joker the other. Here's a tip that guy, if you want to be the most authentic, best joker of them all; take 4 bottles of sleeping pills and call me in the morning. HOOOHOOOHAHAHAHEEHEEHEEHEE

That Music Store Exhibitionist Guy

Ah yes, my triumphant return with a real entry on time. But wait, you didn't come here for my personal goings-on did you? No. In fact, none of you probably even care about who this is, so back to our irregularly scheduled hate speak. Today I am going to show you that guy who I'm sure any of you who have gone in a music store to buy an instrument, peruse accessories or stare at expensive things you will never own no matter how many extra shifts you pick up at your menial dead-end job frequent; that music store exhibitionist guy.

Who is this guy? Simple. That music store exhibitionist guy is the person who spends hours at the store playing his fingers off on a guitar, showing off on bass or pretending to be a rock star surrounded by his unpurchased amps, for sale signs and other consumers. That guy plays his heart out, and to his merit, tends to actually have some talent. Be it an impressive solo on a guitar, great rhythmic improvisation on bass or impressive beats on drums, that guy piques the attention of all who walk by and sometimes even amasses a small audience to listen to his 'impromptu' performance. But dear reader, do not fall for his ploy, for once you give him the attention that he craves, you are caught in his web.

That guy never plays for himself. No. He plays for others. Every spare moment he has is spent prostrating himself within this wall of instruments, hooked up to an amp, day in day out, hoping to grab a passerbys attention. Unlike a street performer, he does not do it for money, that guy does it for the sheer attention of it. Who knew talent could be offset by such a level of douche.

Along with his strutting around like a rooster, he talks like he is an expert in this field. Despite having technical and musical prowess, he comes off like a cocky Mr. Miyagi. "No no no, you have to play it like this, using an augmented 7th variation on a 3-6-5 progression." Oh, I'm sorry that guy, I can't hear you over the price tag on your guitar and the buckets of shit coming out of your mouth. Just because you have talent in a music store does not give you free reign over the idiot who can't tell the difference between a humbucker and pickguard. Why don't you actually buy your own instrument and practice not being a douche, since apparently you took all your time practicing on not being a douche to play guitar.

Burn in hell that guy. I hope it rains in the store so you get electrocuted and your family has to pay for all the equipment your scorching body ruined and didn't pay for so your grandmother has to be taken off life support and she spends eternity kicking your ass.

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.