I'm a Fucked-Up Chick Magnet!
I know what you're thinking: "Who is this guy to sound so full of himself?" I'm not being egotistical—it's just true. Hey, I know I'm not perfect. Who is? We've all got problems. I'm sure I've got some myself. But here's one problem I don't have: the ladies. When it comes to charming every borderline psycho in a skirt, I take second place to no man. I guess I just give off that "Hey there, pretty lady with the lifelong unresolved emotional issues" vibe. It can't be taught—you either got it or you don't. And I got it.
Everywhere I go, all kinds of psychiatrically disturbed women come running—women who never got over a traumatic childhood accident, or habitually cut themselves, or slept with their stepfathers, or abuse substances while locked in self-destructive cycles of internalized loathing and rage. They just can't keep their hands off me.
It's been this way my whole life. When I was 14, I got lucky with a classmate's mom. In high school, I dated every bipolar suicide risk in town. In college, I had at least a dozen girlfriends who couldn't decide whether they were mental patients or lesbians. It's just the way it is: Deranged dolls dig me.
Marine Corps Shortens Slogan To 'The Few'
WASHINGTON, DC—In light of recruiting shortfalls, a near standstill in re-enlistment, and rock-bottom troop morale, U.S. Marine Corps Commandant Gen. Michael Hagee announced Monday that the Marines will alter their unofficial slogan, abbreviating it to the more accurate "The Few." Hagee said, "We are still the Marines, the premier combat arm of the U.S. military." The Marines will also change their motto to Semper Fidelis, Sic Non Sapienti, or "Always Faithful, But This Is Just Ridiculous."
And from the sidebar:
Bush Awaits Orders From Rove On Handling Of Rove Scandal
In other news, after driving home late last night from a birthday dinner for a friend of mine (by the way, I highly recommend "LOLA" down on South Pearl and Florida. Good Caipirinhas and Latin American fish dishes. Kinda pricey, but good.) and I see some people embracing in front of my apartment. At first glance, there was nothing unusual about this, there are a lot of bored teenagers in my hometown and I often see a couple making out near my apartment at night. But when I got closer, I realized that this was no couple. It was three men, in a sort of circle, heads bowed, arms around each other's shoulders. A little three-way prayer circle, right there on the lawn below my apartment.
Weird. What does it say about me that I would have preferred to see the feverish gropings of a couple of bored teenagers than three paunchy, middle-aged men praying in my front lawn at around midnight? Well, I guess it says that I consider feverish groping at around midnight to be more . . . normal? Because I consider three old white guys praying on my front lawn to be indicative of a more sinister sort of human behavior than a couple of kids slobbering on eachother? Probably.
Ah well. Only two more weeks until I move out of my bizarro backwoods apartment complex . . .