Fishing In The Mainstream
I hate to break it to you people, but I'm not cool. Well, in the grand scheme of things. I mean, I'm cooler than you, but me compared to say Gordon Parks or maybe James Bond, I'm not cool.
I've found that my quest to be edgy or trendy often comes into conflict with my own sensibilities of style... now, I'm a stylish dude, I got the sneaker collection and rows of fine clothing to prove it... I look at some of the stuff people say is hot and I just don't get it.
Metrosexuality. Someone needs to end this trend, now. The idea that me and my boys would actually spend an entrire day nancying about Michigan Ave helping one another decide which shoe looks best with pleated front slacks while dicussing what we use to shave chest hair right before we sip reisling and snack on foi gras, well, that idea don't sit right with me.
I can't ride that trend, yo. I come from the south, straight dudes who act like gay dudes have a 78% chance of getting punched by a NASCAR fan or catching a bad one from one of the dirty dirty's finest street urchins.
So what am I saying here? Well, first of all, I'm cooler than you. Get used to this fact, it'll make things a lot easier on you in the future. Secondly, measuring your coolness based on the latest trend or what ever ClosetGayMan Magazine says is hot is a surefire was to wind up with a closet full of funny lookin' versace shirts, hammer pants, and LA Gear.
It's your life, it might suck, but it's yours. Live it on your own terms.
Topic 4: Drunken confessions. Yo, I'm not a priest, but when people get a taste of the drink, they always feel like they gotta tell me some dark secret about themselves. It's uncanny, like, I have this look to me when I get to drinking that screams "Please place me in an uncomfortable situation by saying something absurd right now!"
Drunk Friend: "Man, rememma that big three hunnid poun' chick from that day at Vern an'nem house?"
Me: "Who, Orca? Maaaan, that was one bloated lookin' fee, she was sweatin' chicken grease. I bet her bloodtype is Ragu, yo!."
Drunk Friend: "Yeah, you know I hit that, right?"
Me: *blank stare*
Drunk Friend: "It was good too, yo. Big girls need lovin' too!"
Me: "Don't ever, in your life, disturb me like that again. I can't eat anymore."
Drunk Friend: "Don't hate"
Me: "To each his own."
...these are real conversations I've had, people. You can't make shit like this up.
4 Comments:
I agree on the metrosexual trend. As a matter of fact I'm doing everything in my power to counteract it.
I'm not much of a drunk confessor, but I have been around for a few drunk confessions and they are a 100 out of 100 on the awkard moment scale. It's like the U2 song, "Stuck in a moment you can't get out of".
I also am from the South and find the metrosexual craze ridiculous.
I don't believe in shopping with other guys.
I don't believe in shaving body hair (unless you're developing more than a passing resemblance to Blanka).
I do believe in pleated pants.
I can't do drunken confessions anymore.
That's right, stand up for your right to be 100% HETEROSEXUAL! God knows someone needs to.
Lord have mercy, you took it all the way back to "LA Gear". I thought I was one of the few people that remembered that travesty. It's like an extra bad incident that you can't discern whether it was real or a horrific nightmare. I put that right along with wearing 6 or more pairs of neon sag socks with a loud Cross Colors shirt, some booty shorts and Jordans, complete with dookey-braids. *shudders* I'm glad my momma didn't let that happen to me. I could be dissing myself right now.
BTW: LMAO @ that drunken confession, you run across hilarious people.
LMAO @ the drunken confession. Actually, the whole entry is hilarious!!! I'm also sorry that you are having a really bad week at work and such. But it's Friday - hopefully you'll have the chance to have some personal 'down-time' this weekend. And --- WELCOME to the blog world!
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