May 18, 2009

Rock Show

Hey, I saw you at the Rock Show last weekend. Aren’t your Mr. Wolf Howl, the douche bag who can’t sit through a solo or allow the music to slow down for a second and a half without belting out a screeching “owwwwwwww!!!!”? Thank you for yelling over the top of all the sound that I paid $70 to listen to. It really heightened my concert experience.

Or maybe you were the dipshit walking around with his shirt off. Interesting choice. Is that common practice for you, going into public shirtless? For example, do you go to work shirtless? Do you go to family gatherings shirtless? Do you go to the bank shirtless? Do you go to bars shirtless? Do you even go to a strip club shirtless? Of course you don’t. Do you know why? Because only idiots like you go out in public shirtless.

Apparently you even walked into the show shirtless because you didn’t seem to be carrying a shirt with you when I saw you. Did you take your shirt off in the parking lot? Did you tailgate shirtless? Did you drive to the show shirtless? If so, did you stop for gas or something to eat on the way to the concert and do that shirtless as well? Maybe have dinner with your family before the show shirtless?

Actually, maybe you were the girl with the high-pitched scream, standing next to Mr. Wolf Howl, piercing my ear drums every 20 seconds. Nice lower back tattoo. I’m sure your dad cries every time he sees it.

Wait, I know now, you are the girl who always starts dancing her stupid white-girl/arms flailing/hippie dance as soon as she walks through the gates, as if you can’t hear the music from the parking lot. And you always seem to be hanging out with those super cool people running around aimlessly for no apparent reason. Getting some exercise or just acting like an eight-year-old? Always not far behind are the girls inexplicably wearing no shoes. I guess the gravel and urine on the ground aren’t much of a concern for you, are they?

You didn’t even like the band did you? You weren’t planning on paying any attention at all, were you? Of course not. What was I thinking? It made far more sense for you to spend half the night talking on your cell phone at a show you didn’t even give a shit about just so people knew that you were there.

Oh, I’m sorry. Did you think it was the Slipknot show? Maybe Ozzfest? No, people were actually playing music there, you dick bag. And just because the music you listen to is “heavy,” doesn’t mean it’s good. If you wanted to hear good “heavy” music (not stupid, mindless bullshit) you would be listening to Helmet and not that monkey spunk you call music. By the way, sweet Marilyn Manson t-shirt. I’m sure your parents/society are very upset with you for wearing it.

I’m glad to see you didn’t feel confined not to hurl random, dangerous objects like half-drunk beer cans into the crowd. What’s a party without someone throwing shit, right? Good work on sneaking those Keystone Light cans into the show. I can certainly understand why because that’s a tough brand to find these days, particularly at events other than rodeos and stock car races.

Luckily though, I was able to enjoy a nice warm $13 beer while taking it all in. I even had the opportunity to wait in line for 35 minutes just for the pleasure of urinating in a piss trough, only to find myself after the show fighting off yet another piss for an hour and a half while waiting to get out of the parking lot.

What an awesome show.

Jan 27, 2009

60 Things Men Should Say To Their Women Every Day

I love you.

Your eyes are pretty.

Your eyes are beautiful.

Your eyes are gorgeous.

Your eyes sparkle.

I love the color of your eyes.

Your hair is pretty.

Your skin is smooth.

Your skin is soft.

Your skin is firm.

Your ass is firm.

Your ass is not big.

Your ass is not flat.

I love your ass.

Your hair is soft.

You smell good.

Your toenail and/or fingernail polish looks very sexy (unless the polish needs to be redone, which is certainly not my decision to make).

You look toned and/or firm.

You have great legs.

You do not have cankles.

I never really enjoyed having sex with any of my other lovers.

I very much enjoy having sex with you.

I respect you.

I want to listen.

I want to help you.

I want to be there for you, forever.

I want to grow old together.

I want to die in each other’s arms.

I want you to die before me so that you don’t experience the pain of losing me.

I want you to die after me so that you have a longer, fuller life.

I love my mom. I love you more.

I never really loved anyone romantically before I met you. I just thought I was in love. And, no, I was not in lust.

I love every woman in your family that you don’t hate and all of your female friends and I am attracted to none of them.

I would rather have my scrotum clawed off by hundreds of rats than have sex with any woman on Earth other than you.

I do not watch pornography.

I watch the kind of pornography that you watch.

You are a dirty little girl.

You are an amazing woman.

I have so much respect for you.

I love the way you walk.

I love the sound of your voice.

You have a pretty name (unless you don’t like your name).

You could have been a movie star.

I’m sure you would be a wonderful mother./You are a wonderful mother.

I do not think you are a bad driver.

You are a good driver.

What do you think?

How do you feel?

Are you ok?

Do you want to talk?

I’m sorry.

Is there anything I can do?

Are you sure?

Please let me help.

You look very pretty in your new dress/jeans/pants/skirt/shorts/top/bikini/panties/bra.

Your ass looks great in that/those.

Those heels make your legs look amazing.

Let me rub your feet.

I love your cooking but I just feel like cooking for you tonight. Let me pour you a glass of wine.

No I am not hungry but I will order it and eat most of it until I feel like I’m going to throw up so that you can have “a bite.”

I don’t think she’s pretty.