Life
by Rebecca Martinson on July 30, 2013

1. Out-Drinking Everyone Around You

Drinking is fun, right? Even better is drinking with friends! But from what I can tell the thing that tops even THOSE super duper activities that you cleared your room by building bunk beds for is getting so drunk that you can't stand up. Standing is for pussies, sitting is the real move. So is not being able to keep your balance and stumbling around like a toddler who just did its first coke bump. Us ladies are all for getting drunk and having a good time, but if you're trying to say “I like your shirt” and you're so trashed it sounds like “I like your shit”, that's pushing a line. From what I've seen most guys either turn into complete creeps with no game whatsoever when they're blacked out, or just lack any ability whatsoever to communicate coherent thoughts and phrases. Does that sound like someone fun to talk to? No. Think of it this way, when you see the hammered chick stumbling her way towards the DJ booth are you thinking “HELL YEAH LET'S GET WEIRD”, or “Aw fuck not this bitch again”? I'll answer that for you. It's the latter.

2. Drugs Up the Ass 24/7

Smoking weed has become such a cultural semi-norm that I don't know many people that haven't done it at least once or twice. On the side of the spectrum, I also know people that do it every day to the point that they question if they're schizophrenic when they're high. Let me just say that if you smoke so much pot in one sitting that you think you're hearing voices that aren't yours in your head, you might wanna cut back. Just a little, y'know? To the point where you're not questioning your sanity and just ponder whether or not you could be bipolar or something. Most girls don't have a problem with the occasional bong hit or coke bump, but if you're scheduling time in your day to do these things or hear yourself complaining about “Dude, I've been sober for the last 8 hours and it's sucked”, then it's crossing a line. Smoking pot is fine. Infrequent coke bumps are fine. Being known as a “pothead” or “coke fiend”, on the other hand, is not appealing.

3. Gym Photos

There's no upside to this, you just look like a massive tool. What makes you think your Facebook friends, let alone girls, want to see your Goddamn mirror selfie at the gym? If you read “Facebook” and thought to yourself “Nah, Instagram is where it's at”, then please go stick your hands in a garbage disposal and turn it on. You clearly don't deserve the ability to use computers, and the only way I feel comfortable letting you live the rest of your life is to make sure you don't have hands. But really, the only thing I'm thinking when I see your gym selfie is “Ew tool”, it's irrelevant whether you're ripped or if you're fat. The only acceptable way to take pictures at the gym is when…actually, it's not acceptable. Why would you wanna take photos of yourself when you're sweaty and tired anyways? If you're working out correctly you shouldn't be in the mindest of “Golly gee willackers, the natural lighting in here is great for my complexion, picture timeeee!”.

4. Cars

I'm all for like, driving and not walking 10 miles to the grocery store when I'm out of eggs. But the number of girls I know that enjoy talking about engines or like rimjobs (that's the right word, right?) or whateverthefuck machinery goes into cars is approximately zero. I'd say less than zero, but none of these people are dead so you lucked out. Honestly, I take mild pride in the fact that I have no idea how to change a tire. Even if I did, I can't even lift the damn chunk of rubber so the actual knowledge of how to change it is irrelevant. So when you walk up to me and try talking about your super-soaker engine and how you put $3,000 into a custom paint job, all I'm thinking is that I don't care that your car can get up to 200 mph when the speed limit here is 30 and that your $3,000 could have gone to something that doesn't make you look like a tool.

5. Giant Fake Tits

Tits are great! Who can hate them? They're basically nature's version of pillows and serve as a fairly decent way to get guys to do what you want. But the fake ones? Those ones aren't cool. If we're walking down the street together and I see you checking out some girl with giant boobs and her mountains are genuinely nicely shaped and sit well on her chest, fine. Whatever, I can appreciate that. But fake ones? If I see you eye-fucking the shit out of those I'm just going to get grossed out and pissed. It's basically like saying that you approve of the idea that going to the gym and being fit isn't sexy, but ignoring the gym and buying giant plastic implants bouncing off your chest is

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While I'm not including this on the list because it applies to both guys and girls, that doesn't mean to stop reading just because there isn't a number 6 on the left of the first line. That being said, anyone who talks a big game on the Internet is in the running for the World's Biggest Pussy award. Now before you get all up in my shit and say “HAHA that makes YOU a giant vagina too since that's what you're doing right now! HAAAAAA-” shut up. Because you're wrong. While in person I'm not exactly a bundle of sunshine wrapped up with a nice little bow, I'm fairly close to the attitude I have here. Maybe a little nicer, depending on who you are. I'm not nearly as eloquent and say “fuck” a helluva lot more, but this isn't me overcompensating for anything that I'm lacking in the bedroom department like you dicklickers probably do. If you're going to get all riled up over something and decide to write something that proves in your deluded mind how much of a man you are, stop. Ask yourself the following:

1. Does anyone not named -insert your name here- care?
2. Are you clever enough to make your comment interesting to read?
3. Do you have a firm grasp of the English language, meaning that you can differentiate between and know when to use the various forms of “your” and “there”?

If you answered “No” to any of these (…and in your case, probably all), stop talking whatever fat-game you think you have and go back to playing Skyrim.

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