RANDOM MUSINGS

There were a few things that caused me a just a hair of angst this past week (other wise I'm pretty much bullet proof to negative energy). Let me first forewarn you, the reader, that this might not be such a funny or entertaining read (jk, of course it's going to be. imagine this note to be like Dylan's spit - hot fire). But honestly, let me try to be serious for a few minutes here. I'll first start by saying a couple things that appeal to me can be abbreviated "HG." Hot girls, and half gallons are but a few examples (High Gravity, however, is not my cup o joe), but the focus of this entry could be said to be towards girls (in general, not just hot ones). Ladies, if you're reading this, well, I don't know, maybe just try to keep in mind the genre this caters to is dubbed "fratire." (fratty satire). That's not to say it's going to be [intentionally] chauvinist, but more an attempt to analyze the often erratic behaviors of my gender's better half. 

Last friday we had a cocktail party where most guests and hosts drank themselves stupid. No surprises there, but sometime during the aftermath whilst things were dying down, some ladies, and this is so much more pardonable than i make it out to be, got the idea (which I'm not altogether exempt of myself) to take advantage of drunk boys' meat. Not that kind of meat, silly! I'm referring to the wealth of deli meats (and cheeses) that occupy our fridge so helplessly that a handful of succubi (not in the true sense of course) ravaged that shit like Ray J to Kim Kardashian. (too early?) It's more funny than frustrating, but the funniest is when you catch 'em red-handed and they clumsily and innocently scatter like chickens that seen a wolf. I mean ladies, really, it doesn't take sobriety for me to find my way around making a sandwich for your munchies, just holla. I'm probably making one for me anyway. Huh, I guess that's it for that one.

Other rants you shouldn't care about. Lil Wayne. Some people love him, some people hate him. I think his music's sweet. Much of the debate over this sizzurped-out gremlin of a star deals with the age old fight of lyrics vs hot beatz. Well the fact is, while there are arguably plenty of sweet beats underground and lyrics-focused shit, it's the beats that make your pelvis move around (especially when booze are involved), that sell like hot cakes. Songs like Lollipop, Low, or Take you There, aren't supposed to make you go, "OOOHH, shit! you hear that analogy/euphemism/hyperbole he just dropped!" I feel like it's become a matter of producing what sounds best to [the most] people. The majority of us aren't going to put on the headphones and listen to Flo-Rida for his deep and thought-provoking diction. When you're trying to cut a rug you hear the words, but you're not listening to them. This is because you're blacked out.*

George Foreman grills. Fuckin A I wish this fucking thing wouldn't burn just the top of my chicken without fully cooking the center.

Neighbors who go to bed too early. Go away. We're loud and young.

And gender inequality. Yes, thin ice is my favorite ground to tread on (that's lie meant to make me sound tough). The demographic of our society that we might be familiar with as Grown-Ups, that is, generally people our parents' age, might feel differently because it exists in the workplace and so on. Well I'm having trouble seeing where men hold the upper hand in our age group. Okay, besides in sports. More women are going to college, and that's totally cool. I'm in college, and there still aren't enough (I'm just bad with women). I won't go into the details of how men are abUSEd because there's a fine line between ranting and complaining like a little bitch. I didn't cross it, did I? At the same time though I think i'm just skimming the surface of a deeper tradition men and this notion of chivalry are supposed to uphold. Oh, that reminds me of a funny nugget. So this PYT who was dancing with some creepy dude in Cabo gave me this look of desperation/discomfort. Drink gives birth to boldness, and i remember foggily that, before i knew it, my arm lowered betwixt the two dancers causing her to scamper to safety (haha, scamper) and him to bemusedly try to decide whether to give chase or get in my face. Well, his hesitation and half-assed step forward was enough for Kris to give him a good shove to the chest (you had to be there, just good wholesome comedy) and nearby staff to close in. Dude was just lucky we don't live in the medieval period or samurai era because he would looked like a bleeding porcupine instead of an embarrassed gringo.

In conclusion, I'll concede that this was written by "Old Man Walter," but maybe next week will see "Happypants Funboy's" writing, eh?

*or if you're me, about half a beer deep