Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Things I hate #912: Kewl Guys

The winner is part of a "dating community" called DYD, or "Double Your Dating."

No, I am not kidding. I followed the YouTube link on this episode and found a wonderful blog called "Lifestyle With BG," written by a guy from the Netherlands who describes his adventures in "closing women (http://lifewithbg.blogspot.com/)." In case my blog doesn't make you angry enough, I would like to invite you to read two or three entries from BGs blog to get your blood boiling. Here are selections from my favorite entry, with my comments in brackets [Warning: I hope you like acronyms, because apparently they are essential in order to fuck a girl]:

"FR: closed 2 HB9's (featuring Moonwalker)
The club was still a bit empty, but filled up pretty quickly. So we got our drinks and moved onto the dancefloor. Have a little fun together. Soon enough there were groups of girls dancing around us; shooting AI's. I recognize AI's by their energy. The girl(s) will do something to 'suck' your attention to her. Back in the good ol' days (before the community even, I think).. David Bouwie and I always had these situations, but usually the parties in that particular club aren't fun enough anymore to just stay in one spot all night. But last night was awesome, music-wise..... and more ;-)"

[I don't know what AI's are, nor do I understand the mechanism by which women shoot them. But apparently women also have the ability to 'suck' the AI laser fields as well. Luckily our hero BG has the ability to withstand the AI rays being sucked, as hinted by his winking emoticon].

"After about 30 minutes, Moonwalker was in the house! Him and T. hit it off well. Great! Good social vibe. We were vibing again (explained here and here). Except this time, the vibing wasn't outwards (of the group), the group was vibing. We concentrated the energy inside our group, instead of spreading it out throughout the whole club. For the first two hours anyway. This had an interesting effect. Instead of decreasing the psychological distance between your group and the groups around you, the distance stayed the same, but they all wanted to be part of the fun. Then we opened our group up... and fuckin' owned the place."

[I'd like to point out that he actually uses vibe as a transitive verb. I really didn't know real human beings actually did that without breaking out into laughter. Luckily for me, he explains the mechanism by which the vibe travels, and who is infected by the vibe. He describes this as an interesting effect. I think it's more interesting to imagine the word 'vibe' meaning STD. Go ahead, try it. Much funnier.]

"This group of three girls (group rating: 7.5) had been giving AI's for a good hour now. Moonwalker and T. were kind of discussing them, MW always points at people when he talks about them; his philosophy: "you can be secretive about it, but if you point at them, they'll become curious and they'll open you". The girls however, weren't really responding to this, so I pushed the back of his arm so that his hand would touch one of the girls. Open!"

[Okay, I'm not entirely sure what age BG is, but I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say that he is probably over the age of 21. Now, so far, we know that this 21 year old and his group of friends analyze the mysterious AI laser beam rays emanating from the women - probably magical potions and elixirs known as 'perfume' or 'pheromones' - and whose tactical operations to get a girl's attention include POINTING AT GIRLS and HITTING GIRLS to get their attention. This is what they attend seminars for. These are the techniques they religiously develop and hone and formulate to break through the mysterious bizzaroworld of the female psyche. It gets better.]

"I let T., David Bouwie and Moonwalker chat the girls up, I'm in an LTR anyway. I mingled a bit, talked to some employees, met some girls who I know, got introduced to some other girls (more on this later), just made some friends. Meanwhile I notice that one of the girls in the three set was unoccupied, and her energy was dropping... fast! BG to the rescue! I warn T. that he should get to closing his HB8, and I approach the low energy girl. Opener "hi". Girl looks aloof. "I'm Bas" and hold my hand out. The girl introduces herself as well, and smiles. Bye bye bitch shield."

[I swear to sweet Moses that I am not making this up. I don't know what an LTR is (although it's pretty close to the acronym LOTR), but this LTR is worried that in the absentmindedness of Moonwalker, one of the females was nearly depleted of her AI energy laser beam levels! While T is occupied with the obviously important HB8, BG destroys the AI laser-depleted girl's 'bitch shield.' WHERE THE FUCK ARE THESE LASERS AND SHIELDS COMING FROM YOU PREPUBESCENT SHITHEAD. Fucking 'bye bye puberty.' GROW THE FUCK UP BAS YOU FUCKING JACKASS.]

"I talked to her, kept the conversation going, she said she hadn't slept in three days and was really tired now. I give T. another signal. Keep talking.. The girl actually turned out to be a cool chick, after talking to her, I considered closing her, but I didn't because I didn't get a chance to. I decided to walk around and mingle for a bit; I was getting bored. Then I ran into the girl that I hadn't seen for quite a while. I wrote about her last year in this FR. She's the girl grinding me, and I'm the one excusing my ass off in that FR."

[Please decide to close her, please please please decide to close her!]

"I decide to close that chick."

[YES! Whew, I was worried that BG's laser signal to T would be fruitless, but now that he's decided to close the girl after defeating her heat energy bitch shields, I can rest easily. What amazes me most is that he still manages to keep her in the FR. I don't know what an FR is, I think he means a front engined, rear-wheel drive car or something, as long as the car has lasers, like in the cartoon "M.A.S.K. Crusaders."]

"Due to my LTR, and me being broke; I go for Instant Messenger-closes now. So I walk up to her, chat. She said she came to the party by herself. We were talking... This girl's attention was hard to hold, there were three guys trying to steal her from me, haha. The only thing I had to do though, was while trying to say something, pull her over to me slightly. She'd throw her arm around me immediately and the AMOG's would take a step back again. I have no clue what we talked about exactly. I remember I steered the conversation towards the 5th of May (Liberation Day) and if there are any cool outdoor events then. I tried to cover a lot of other topics (about 4 or 5 in just a few minutes) so that it would seem like we had a lot to talk about. I then did the classic Double Your Dating-style close... "Hey, I gotta get back to my friends..." turn body language, "I gotta stop talking and get to partying now, but have you got MSN, we can talk another time then.""

[I don't know what Instant Messenger closes are, but anyone who models their speech after line-text computer conversations deserves to suck the shit out of Hitler's balloon knot. In order to let other space intruders know that the female is his property, he puts his arm around her to ward off the AMOGs. WHAT THE FUCK IS AN AMOG? By Allah, can't this motherfucking shithead for once call someone or something by their real name? AMOG sounds like "muggle" to me, which is the Harry Potter term for a human being. Oooooooo, keep the female away from the HUMANSSSSSSS. Dumbfuck.]

"@close. This is a girl who I've fantasized about, this girl is H-O-T. 8.5 or a 9. Doesn't get much better unless you go to Nice, Monaco or Milan... or Hollywood."

[I'm not sure if BG is a celebrity. If so, may Jesucristo bless him and his shitty movie career. If not, anyone who has ever set foot in California knows that Hollywood is one of the shittiest, ugliest places in the state, let alone the country. Most of it is run down, low income, and smells like the inside of an asshole. So I guess he's saying all the girls he fantasizes about work at KFC and look like the back of a schoolbus, but that's cool - looks don't matter, as long as he can defeat her heat bitch fortress shield. Pussy.]

"This girl, she's a 7.5 or so, but shit, she has such a hot sexual vibe.. It ups her value to a 9, man. This girl must be a great fuck. The girls introduced me to their brothers, who they had brought along. The brother of my target immediately compliments my on my t-shirt; really enthusiastically. I introduce myself, and then introduce myself to the other guy; the girl from college's brother. I decide to vibe with the two guys first, see what value they have."

[When I first got into college, we had to watch this video about date rape prevention, and how women should avoid suspiciously older men at parties who followed them home. Unfortunately, the point was completely lost on my friends and me, because when they 'interviewed' a rapist, it was actually a blacked-out actor who talked in a fake gruff voice, and said lines like "y'see, when I was following one 'target' home -that's what we call them, 'targets' - I made sure she wasn't with her friends . . ." It looks like BG watched this same video because he has targets too, targets of his AI laserbeam blasters. He also likes vibing with guys, or what you and I would refer to as 'giving them the clap,' just to, y'know, see what value his targets have. ZZZZZZZZZAP!]

"After closing the other girl, I was walking back to my friends and decided that I would be closing this particular girl when I saw her. I ran into her and had a chat about uhh... primary school. Haha! Age regression ;-)"


"We joked around, we vibed, I told her that I was here to party, but told her that we should talk another time; "Got MSN?" @close."

[What the FUCK is a FUCKING @CLOSE. I guess I shouldn't be angry at someone for using expressions like @close when he talks like an AIM conversation (whoops, MSN) when he isn't protecting his energy particle layers from female vagina heat-rays. Semi-colon dash close parenthesis you little bitch.]

"This was GREAT. These are both girls that I've fantasized about! Haha. And I have the game to close them; I'm quite sure that I could f-close them both too. The game's easy, for real. The biggest problem now is: where does this leave me with my LTR?
I have two important values concerning this:
1) I'm a man of integrity. I don't lie, cheat or deceive.
2) I don't want to hurt people; I really care about my girlfriend.
I'm presented with a tough situation; an inevitable one so, but still.
This is my private business though, so I'll cease to speak about it."

[This to me was the best part of the whole entry. Our hero's moral dilemma. He has a girlfriend, and is desperately trying to decide between staying with her, or trying every juvenile technique to gain the attention of women he is hoping to fuck if he can slip the right roofie in their drink.'Tis quite a cross, BG. WHY THE FUCK DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND FUCKFACE? What the fuck kind of dumb shitty girlfriend do you have to inflate that will actually put up with you trying to shoot down the laser shield force-fields of dumb sluts who actually fall for these retarded tactics? Please cease to speak about it, before I rip out your eyeballs and piss on your brain.]

Hehe, actually this one guy approached me and I turned to hear him better and our mouths nearly touched. I told him I was "not that easy!" Get remarks like that into your system; they impress people, they show you're a funny, relaxed guy, secure and confident about his sexuality. You will come across like a guy who gets laid.

[There is something inherently troubling about a man who forces comments suggesting homosexuality to show that he is confident in his sexuality. I believe it's called 'hiding in the closet,' which I hope Wynnie the blow-up doll is cool with. Maybe he should attend his next DYD workshop on "How to Grow Up and Stop Acting Like a 4 Year Old When Approaching Women." It's the workshop right after recess, and right before "Stupid Bitches Fall For Stupid Shit" and "Counterpoint: Maybe Prostitutes ARE Worth It - How the $20 Bill Can Break a Bitch's Magic Force-Field Shield." Go suck a baby bottle you amateur.]

Monday, May 22, 2006

Things I hate #835: Ferris Bueller and his Fucking Day Off

I hate Ferris Bueller.

Not the whole movie. Just Ferris Bueller, the character.

And it's not like I don't like Matthew Broderick - Election is a great movie, and I didn't even mind Godzilla as much as some people. I just hate everything about the Ferris Bueller character.

Most people at this point give me the same reaction, as if Ferris was their dad. Actually, bad example. I know some people like Ferris more than they like their own dad, which makes sense.

Before I go on to why I hate this turd, I actually tried a rudimentary test to see if I was the only person who felt this way - I googled "hate" and "ferris bueller" and surely enough, the only conceivable search results I got were descriptions of the Principle Mr. Rooney, who hates Ferris, and pseudo-cool, pseudo party guys who imagine the 80s treated them much better than they actually did, and will spend the rest of their life desperately pointing out that krazy "Ferris" moment of their life when they totally ditched school and it was awesome and totally like Ferris because Ferris missed school, and that was krazy and such a wild time. That's right. The only two people who hate Ferris are me and Mr. Rooney. And while it is a shame that the only person who agrees me turns out to be a sexual molestor in his real-life persona, I understand his hatred for this stupid runny-nosed WASP in training. I might even hate Ferris Fans as much. Here's one fanboy's asinine gushings on the great cinematic achievement that is Ferris Bueller's Day Off:

"I think it is only fitting that I dedicate my first movie review to my favorite movie, Ferris Beuler's Day Off. This movie got me through High School.. and much of my adult life as well. That is, until Office Space came along, but that is another review."
It's great that you have movies to carry your useless ass through life. Good luck finding the movie on being single and unmarried at 50. Head up, buddy, you've got 40-Year Old Virgin to hold you for the next three years or so.

"Matthew Broderick brings such joy to us playing Ferries Bueller, a character no one would hate. Ferris NEVER gets caught, is an expert at fooling his parents, everybody likes him, and nobody can avoid his favor and all. I want to be just like him!
This brilliant piece of reasoning was presented by an imdb intellectual known as holeinthahead@yahoo.com, so his or her credibility is untouchable.

"Ferris Bueller was an interesting young lad who wanted to enjoy his life as a youth whilst living in suburbia. I must say, it is typical behaviour in places where there is no activity. Suburbia is a 'manufactured' lifestyle where there is no hype of any sort. Children often feel bored and as a result, they misbehave more often."
This commentor hails from 'Ol Blighty itself, England, a place that never sacrifices a chance to take cheap-shots at America. Sigmund Freud here breaks down the psychological reasons for Ferris Bueller doing what he does. WHILST I read this selection, my BEHAVIOUR became more and more angry - English take pot-shots at great American movies simply because they are American, and take exception when it comes to a movie as dumb as this. Keep up the inbreeding in your royal families, your excessive drinking and deep-frying and shitty dental work, you fucking tard. Your opinion is useless because you're English.

There are plenty of reasons to hate Ferris. I'll list 'em.

1. He is not funny: Everyone seems to find some comedic gold in the lines that John Hughes has written for Matthew Broderick. I don't. None of his lines are witty. Many people counter my belief with the argument that this movie was written in the 80s, so I need to allow some slack for dated commentary or humor. Really. Because no funny movies have been written before 1986, right? For anyone who thinks 80s comedies can't be as sharp today as they were when they came out, I have two words for you: Breakfast Club. Written in 1985 by John Hughes. Directed in 1985 by John Hughes. I defy anyone to point out one line in that movie that has become dated in the 21 years of its existence. Meanwhile, Ferris and his friends put on sunglasses and snap their fingers, because making fun of beatniks really will never get old. Neither will Ferris's imitation of James Bond when he first dresses up in a suit. That was CLASSIC, bro, totally classic man. See, what he does is, he fixes his cuffs, JUST like 007 does, but instead of saying "Bond, James Bond" he SWITCHES it with his OWN name. Dude, I wish I could get away with such hilarity.

2. He is not deep: Two lines he utters in this film which are meant to be given a second-over are the "ism" line about his life philosophy and how it mirrors John Lennon, and the other is when he says that life might pass you by if you don't stop. Wow. So deep. You may think that I am being overly-critical on this aspect, since it is, after all, a comedy. To this, I direct you to the senior quote section of any predominantly white high school yearbook, where you can count on thousands of hands the times you will read "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it," under a semi-playful, semi-serious senior photo, and right above all his requisite shout-outs to his "best buds for life" (or before college begins, whatever comes first). See, when a guy puts this in his senior profile he's saying that he can have fun, and take life in stride, but also has a deep side, and by deep I mean, he gets his life philosphies from movies.

3. He's a scumbag: He's a senior going out with a junior in high school. Now, as you get older, even in college, it's not really a big deal anymore, to have one year difference in age. But in high school, it is a big deal. The message is clear when someone dates out of their grade: THEY CAN'T BOINK SOMEONE IN THEIR OWN GRADE. Of course, this poses a great moral dilemma for Ferris. And by moral dillemma, I mean that he is worried he won't be with her when he goes to college - until he gets a girlfriend there. So for now, he's keeping her as an insurance plan. I WISH I WAS INSECURE LIKE FERRIS!

4. His name is Ferris.

5. He shits on his best friend: Even though this movie is only a day in this freeloader's life, it looks like its pretty representative of his life. He shits on Cameron all day, probably every day. Now, granted, Cameron needs to grow a fucking spine and kick Ferris in his prostate, but Ferris is still hateful for the way he takes advantage of whoever he can just so he can have a thrill. It's obvious they don't really enjoy each other's company - Ferris uses Cameron to feel better about himself, and Cameron is jealous of Ferris. I'd write off this as being unrealistic, except this is probably the basis for the majority of "friendships" that exist nowadays. To the fat chick who feels happy that she can look down on others because she is "chillin'" with three popular, good-looking girls: wise up you dumb shit. You're there to make them feel better about themselves. You're Cameron, they're Ferris.

6. The "Ferris Ferrari": Now any of you who know me know that I hate Ferrari. But when one of the rarest and best-looking Ferraris becomes known as the "Ferris Bueller Ferrari" simply because some shithead kid forces his friend to steal it from his dad, give it to a valet to run up the miles, and then makes his friend take the fall when the car is destroyed, even a casual car fan should be pissed. The whole reason Ferris steals his friend's dad's car is because he apparently can't afford one. Funny, he does have enough money to own a synthesizer which cost $8,000 in 1984 (http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0091042/trivia)Nice kitcar, idiot. I can imagine how he retells the story to his college friends: "So then, since the odometer was so high, this kid I once knew tried to reverse the miles off, but ended up destroying the car, and since he took the heat for me, his dad beat him senseless and his mom left and he slit his wrists with his shaving razor!" Then Ferris would get raped by the college football team for his incessant dialogue with an imaginary camera.

7. He is not smart: Many call lying to their parents "pulling a Ferris," especially in light of his krazy prank where he plays a recording while a mannequin replaces a sleeping, sick Ferris. But to me, "pulling a Ferris" means "having parents more mentally retarded than Stacey Sublett (CHEAP SHOT!)." What kind of diabolical genius does it actually take to outwit his parents, really? The dad just plain doesn't recognize his own son as he jogs beside him or sings in a parade, and his you could fuck his mother in the ear and she'd thank you for the q-tip. Actually, you need one more ingredient to "pull a Ferris": a sister who the parents blame everything on. As you can see, Ferris deserves a lot of credit for all the incredible skill involved in skipping school.

8. He wears a leopard skinned vest.

9. He is a loser: Imagine, right now, that you are a professional, living on your own, and working (which many of you are). Now imagine you have a friend who spends all his time trying to get out of work, or still trying to fool his parents in order to get out of work. Imagine this same guy continually pretends to be sick so that he can borrow your expensive car to "live life," and helps run up the miles on a car that probably cost you more money than he will ever try to make in his life. Imagine he goes out with high school girls and talks to his mother like a baby and spends all day reminiscing about that time in high school when he skipped school and has no money and pretends to be someone else to eat in expensive restaurants. See, there's a name for people like Ferris once you become an adult, and it's called a malingerer. Also, he is called a fucking LOSER. Keep auditioning for the role of "Apple" on those shitty "Apple vs. PC commercials," I'm sure you'll never get the part.

10. And finally, and probably most importantly - CAMERON IS FUNNIER THAN FERRIS. Think about the funniest parts of the movie. When Cameron (the actual reason Ferris is able to skip school at all) pretends to be Ferris's father on the phone, it is probably funnier than anything Ferris has ever thought of in his smug, shitty little brain. Or when Cameron owns Ferris with the line "Ferris Bueller, you're my hero," he not only makes Ferris look as dumb as he actually is, but gets a chance to watch his underage girlfriend change out of her clothes! YAY! The only other funny part I can think of in this self-satisfied-as-Kevin-Smith movie is the hilarious cameo by Charlie Sheen. The main character of this movie should have been Cameron, and Ferris should have been the stupid asshole freeloader accomplice sidekick.

Fuck Ferris.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Quote of the day

"Mr. Stryker, do you really want to turn this into some kind of . . . war?"

"I was piloting black-ops missions in the jungles of North Vietnam while you were sucking on your mama's tit at Woodstock, Kelly. Don't lecture me about WAR. This already is a war."

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Things I hate #27: The Litmus Test

My brother Raymond and I were talking about one of the most hateful moves in existence. We both decided to call it the litmus test, because litmus is scientific, and everyone hates science.

Basically, it's when a guy (it's always and ONLY a guy) is too spineless to ask a girl out. Now, don't get me wrong, asking out someone can be and is a very scary experience. But these timorous whelps decide that they don't want to put their neck out, and decide to suggest the possibility of liking a girl without EVER ACTUALLY SAYING IT. This way, when the girl almost invariably rejects the guy, he can save his cowardly face and continue to go about his daily coward activities like not speaking up against bullies while they lift him upside down to empty the change out of his coward pockets.

I'll give a real life example of this happening to someone. For the sake of anonymity, I'll just call the girl "my girlfriend" and the guy "yellow." I'll actually have to commend Yellow, because his maneuver was technically a combination of the litmus test and the self-explanatory "friend maneuver" (where a guy tries to pretend to be a friend with a girl and becomes a real confidant, hoping/praying/sacrificing a goat so that some incredible set of circumstances will allow her to fall for him, or at least for her to get drunk enough to sleep with him - in case you're wondering why I explained a concept that was supposed to be self-explanatory, I stick by the rule that you should never expect too much of your audience, you idiot). So after a few months of "listening" and "friending" my girlfriend, he decided to gather up all the kool-aid in his pebbles and "make his move." Now, as if this move weren't shamefully mousy enough, bear in mind he was trying to do it with a girl who was already in a long-distance relationship (known in other circles as a "girl with a target on her back"). So one day, Yellow reveals that he "can't hang out" with my girlfriend.

My Girlfriend: Why not??
Yellow: W-w-w-w-well, i-i-i-t's because, I th-th-think I-i-i-i-m enjoying our t-t-t-t-time together M-M-MORE than y-y-y-you are.

(In the dramatic reconstruction above I've emphasized actual speech patterns exhibited by many cowards). Here's the genius of this heinous move. He never has to ask her out. He just needs to suggest that he likes her, but he is "mature" enough to stop this "thing" before it goes any further. Obviously the real purpose of this move is to get the girl thinking about it, and hopefully, allow her to express the same interest. If the girl doesn't show the same interest, at least he never did anything as TERRIFYING as ACTUALLY ask her out. Whew, that would have been SCAWY.

This ridiculously diffident maneuver can take so many forms it's ridiculous. And for some reason, the coward in question does NOT have the juice to ask a girl out, but has NO problems scheming on a girl who already has a boyfriend. Probably because he technically never asked the girl out, in the same way that his testicles never "technically dropped."

What's even more faint-hearted than the spoken litmus test? The written email litmus test! Take a very similar situation with my brother, his girlfriend, and another cutie-pie I'll call Terry-eek. Aaaaaand I quote:

"i dunno if u really understand this, but i really appreciate u, i cant
remmeber having a friend that i could tell n e thing 2 and not b
afraid...i cant remember having this kind of support from n e one, i
think u r the best, u got it all, ur pretty , ur funny, ur smart, u know
everything, and ur friends with me ( a major plus)...i pretty much jus
wanna say thank u and i hope i can b 4 u wat u hav been 2 me.....hey
here's there hyujest hyujest secret ever: i wanted 2 hook up with u
first semester freshman year (didnt think i was ever gonna tell u that)
ok there now im embarassed...."

Sweet Jesus on a popsicle stick. I don't even know where to start with this indecipherable mess. Let's try and be reasonable and avoid the obvious spelling and abbreviation issues. No, wait, let's dwell on them a second. I'll allow the "u" to substitute for "you" because Terry-eek obviously has otheryellow-bellied activities and can't be bothered to actually spell the whole word. But come on, at some points he has to know that he is testing the limits of human patience with gems like "i pretty much jus wanna say thank u and i hope i can b 4 u wat u hav been 2 me" and "hyujest hyujest" (not just one "hyuj"). I can comprehend flat Braille more easily than this bullshit. Notice the format of this email, which is a written litmus test. First, the confiding introduction, beginning with the classic "you don't realize how wonderful you are" before progressing into a dickless diatribe about how no one understands his inner being the way my brother's girlfriend does. Then come the string of beautifully crafted compliments only punctuated by the personal "u" - the repetition is kind of beautiful in a "Jennifer Garner looks like a man" sort of way. Then comes the forging of an unbreakable pact - Terry Tutu hopes he can be 4 her wat she has been 2 Tutu. Then . . . wait for it . . . wait for it . . . here it comes . . . the litmus test! Okay, since he's already confiding in her, why not just "let it out" that he wanted to have sex with her? Because that is absolutely necessary to tell her for the friendship to survive. And what really seals the deal is the last line - NOW I'M EMBAWASSED. Here's an idea fuckface, if you're so embarassed, before you send the email, DELETE the last part. Unless you want her to see it, of course. Wow, Terry-eek, I didn't think I'd ever call you out like that . . . I hope ur still frenz with me (a major plus).

What is arguably more amazing than this cowardly move is how often women actually fall for it. They honestly, for the life of them, can't see what is happening. It's amazing. It's almost (ALMOST) hard to get mad at the Yellows and Terry-eeks because their spineless moves end up fooling the majority of the lactating population, and if it doesn't work, they try and wait it out indefinitely while setting up another camp simultaneously (multi-tasking cowards). Now, the coolguy ethic dictates that the boyfriend just laughs it off, because it doesn't mean anything. I agree with that. But I don't like the idea that the coward gets away with it. So I'm going to take this opportunity to completely call out any guy who does this.

Now, pretty much the only people who will ever read this stupid blog are my friends, and I am not friends with cowards, but in the unlikely event that another coward stumbles upon this post, and recognizes his tactics being spotlighted, this is for you. You're a weakling, a milksop, a namby-pamby, a mouse, a scaredy-cat, a yellow-belly, a sissy, a baby, a candy-ass, a milquetoast, you're timorous, you're pusillanimous, you're spineless, you're wimpish, you're chicken, you're gutless, you're lily-livered, you're weak-kneed, you're a charlatan, a fake, a phony, a pussy, a Stan.

Hey pussy, here's the hyujest hyujest secret ever: I think I'm enjoying putting you on full blast more than you are . . . OK THERE NOW I'M EMBAWASSED.

Monday, April 24, 2006

Things I hate #465: "Car Guys"

I know what you're thinking. "But Ryan, don't YOU like cars?" Sure I do. I like driving, I like reading about cars, and I love watching videos about cars. But I hate car guys. Because most of the time when people are talking about "car guys" they are talking about morons who don't know anything about cars, but say they like cars because it's a really manly thing to do. Lemme give you an example.

I was sitting at lunch with some of my "friends" (I eat lunch with them, and that's pretty much the bond that ties us) when one casually asked if the Porsche Boxster is a good car.

OK, so here's the problem. I think it relates to the fact that I generally make a ridiculously complicated situation out of a very simple question. I've trained myself never to respond quickly or truthfully whenever someone asks me a car question and/or comment.

"What's the best car?" [Internal Monologue: Don't answer Ryan, don't asnwer Ryan, don't . . . ]
"Well, it's tough to say any car is the BEST car, because some cars are the best in their class and . . ."

I then usually go one for the next 136 hours talking about steering and drivetrain and God knows what else. It has cost me a lot of formerly enjoyable lunch conversations or bus rides or relaxing afternoons. So I've learned to shut my mouth.

But I find a new problem with the Boxster question, and one that applies to a lot of similar car gauntlets thrown my way: I give a different answer to the Boxster question depending on the person with whom I am speaking. I generally rank the person I am talking to, in terms of car knowledge (and consequently, as a complete guide to their absolute worth as a human being) in roughly three tiers.

Tier 3 is the general bipod who knows that cars (mostly) have four wheels and a metal block thingee that pushes it forward. I generally love people in Tier 3 because they just plain aren't interested in cars that much, so their questions are for the purposes of general knowledge."Is that car nice?" or "Is that car not nice?" questions generally abound in Tier 3.

Unfortunately, at the very tip of Tier 3, we have those who are doing their best to push into Tier 2, and they can be most easily spotted when they assign cars as status symbols. The typical Tier 3-er attempting Tier 2 upward mobility will usually spout refuse along the lines of "Whoa, that guy drives a Porsche - he must be rich!" My response to such morons is usually one that pains me to say, especially because I don't believe it. I do end up saying it, however, to stop that stupid practice of assigning worth to cars based on price (in that sense, I'm kind of like a superhero . . . with the WORST SUPERPOWER EVER): "If he was really rich he would've sprung for a 996 or a 997. He ain't a baller."

Tier 2 is a bit tougher to define. I'm sure most of you are aware of the TV network called "Spike TV," which is touted as "The Network for Men" (with a guy with a chainsaw cutting through the slogan). This network is very manly, and makes sure to include big-breasted women or cars in most segments, because, you aren't a man if you don't like big-breasted cars. All men who watch Spike TV regularly are in Tier 2. People in Tier 2 are kind of like ironing, because I hate both of them. Most especially what I hate about Tier 2 is that these guys (apologies to the 3 females who actually watch this stupid shitty network) know basic knowledge about cars (rough hosepower and 0-60 figures), but believe they know EVERYTHING about cars, because they've watched "Gone in 60 Seconds" and tune in to the Garage section of "Cribs" on MTV. They usually don't ask me the Boxster question straight up, but frame it in a typically poopy manner:

"The Boxster is such a girl's car. It's a 911 with panties" (which is an actual quote from Sopranos, the definitive source for all true automotive knowledge).

To the Tier 2-ers, I begin a prepared speech on the incredible balance of the Boxster that has led to its absolute domination of its class for 8 years. By the time I'm done they've already started talking about Anna Kournikova or roofies or something.

And finally, there is Tier 1, the actual car enthusiasts. One thing that is apparent about Tier 1 is that once you get to this level, you realize that everyone knows about cars, so it just boils down to opinion, plain and simple, which is how it should be. When Tier 1-ers throw the Boxster gauntlet my way, I usually give a deserved nod to the capabilities and dynamics of the 986, but go on to point out that for the money, I'd go something else, even if the car is in a different class (in terms of performance or target audience). This usually generates good discussions, although I should just say "discussion," since it only happened once.

But at this moment, I'm sitting at a table with two Tier 3s, one Tier 3 trying to break into Tier 2, three Tier 2ers, and not one Tier 1 in sight. "So, is the Boxster a good car?" asks a Tier 3er. I stuff my face with my sandwich, because I have no idea how to respond. Instead I imagine the sandwich I am biting is the head of a Tier 2-er. I can't believe this moron is staying still while I bite into his ham-head. What an idiot.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Video that makes my vomit vomit.


Things I Hate

So my intention in this post is to list the stuff I hate.

1. Everything.

If you disagree with me, I dare you to challenge me to find something I can't find even a little hateful. Your move, buddy.

First Post

I'm testing this badboy out right now. Christine, can you read this?