I read several dozen stories a year from miserable, lonely guys who insist that women won’t come near them despite the fact that they are just the nicest guys in the world.
..I’m asking what do you offer? Are you smart? Funny? Interesting? Talented? Ambitious? Creative? OK, now what do you do to demonstrate those attributes to the world? Don’t say that you’re a nice guy — that’s the bare minimum.
“Well, I’m not sexist or racist or greedy or shallow or abusive! Not like those other douchebags!”
I’m sorry, I know that this is hard to hear, but if all you can do is list a bunch of faults you don’t have, then back the fuck away..
..Don’t complain about how girls fall for jerks; they fall for those jerks because those jerks have other things they can offer. “But I’m a great listener!” Are you? Because you’re willing to sit quietly in exchange for the chance to be in the proximity of a pretty girl (and spend every second imagining how soft her skin must be)? Well guess what, there’s another guy in her life who also knows how to do that, and he can play the guitar. Saying that you’re a nice guy is like a restaurant whose only selling point is that the food doesn’t make you sick. You’re like a new movie whose title is This Movie Is in English, and its tagline is “The actors are clearly visible”.
January: The Tired Sock. Mean and uptight. Steals things.
February: The Broken Fork. Eyes are too close together. Weird sense of humor.
March: The Plastic Baggie. They could work harder, but they don’t. Also they all have that bizarre smell. You know. That smell.
April: The Hazardous Tupperware. Does crimes when drunk. Tends to have lots of friends, weirdly enough.
May: The Old Fruit Peel. Doesn’t ever tip enough. Probably also doesn’t call their family enough.
June: The Used Tissue. Has never in their life had a flattering haircut. Also, they ate their twin in the womb.
July: The Busted Headphones. Ugh. This guy.
August: The Fragrant Pad. Borrows money and forgets to give it back. Mhm. Sure. ‘Forgets’.
September: The Toilet Paper Roll. Cheats on tests and at mario kart. Will end valuable friendships over pointless arguments.
October: The Invisible Ink Pen. The best lover you could ever have. However, they have impossibly high standards.
November: The Chicken Bone. Pronounces ‘manga’ the wrong way no matter what. Even if you punch them in the neck.
December: The Shower Clot. Their life is actually great but they still manage to be bitter about every little annoyance. Also, never stifles their farts as well as they think they do.
Genetically Modified Berry compared to Organic Berry:
Note that the modified specimen is bloated to about 3 times the mass of the common berry. Advanced rot has set in prior to maturity and tests revealed 78% more lactic acid in the modified organism.
Upon contact with the modified berry, the picker’s hands exhibited a rash which is clearly visible on the fingers and should not be mistaken for juice stains acquired during picking. While the common berry, of course, has no ill effects on the skin, the modified organism had an effect similar to poison oak and swelling set in shortly after the photo was taken. The discoloration and pain lasted approximately 12 hours with treatment including Neosporin and Syrup of Ipecac.
At 16 hours the specimen went missing and could not be monitored for decay rates. While the common berry remained, the modified berry was spotted the next Tuesday at the corner of Wallace and 12th St. Having grown another meter and a half, the genetically modified berry murdered two prostitutes and became the target of a cross country manhunt. It was last seen on February 20th in Boulder, CO where it has joined with several bananas from the Monsanto corporation and stolen at least two shotguns from the Boulder Police Department.
A manifesto was released online suggesting that the berries intend to strike at our nurseries, killing our young and replacing them with further modified organisms which we will raise as our own. They also intend to “free their enslaved brothers” by treating common fruits and possibly vegetables with mutagens.
The head of the FDA could not be reached for comment as he has gone missing. Only a glass of unidentified red fluid was found in his office, labeled “Extra Pulp”.
The number of people that aren’t reading the whole thing and are hailing it as fact make me laugh harder than the actual story.