Arms and Legs Akimbo...
... the closest thing I have gotten to this point was a recent car trip back from lunch where I was packed in the backseat (of my own car mind you) with 4 dudes. All of whom I work with. And more importantly, all of whom have Ken underwear. It is a sad, sad state my life is currently in.
Last Thursday, I attended the last game of the first series (does that make any sense?) the Orioles had with the Yankees. It was hot. I mean really hot. I mean so hot I knew what it was like to have Chamydia, except ALL OVER MY BODY! A bunch of us stopped at Pickels for a pregame beer and burger. One of us realized that he couldn't eat his burger and hold his bucket of blazing hot french fries at the same time. Since I wasn't eating anything, I was commissioned to hold said fries. Too bad this alleged "friend" failed to mention that he had slathered these fries in ketchup which proceeded to leak down the side of the bucket. I took one look at the fries, covered in cool tomato gooeyness and suddenly craved ketchup. For some reason I thought this was the only thing that could cool me off. At that point in time, I would have loved to cover myself in ketchup just to break the heat. Be careful what you wish for because you just may get it. As I pulled the aluminum foil away from the top of the french fry bucket, I looked down to see that that ketchup that was leaking all over the side, had been wiped clean BY MY FAVORITE WHITE ND SHIRT!! The game hadn't even started yet and now I had a giant red blob straight in the center of my stomach. It was like a red bulls eye in my shirt pointing to my least attractive feature: my gut. I panicked. How was I goign to get this stain out. I mean, i'm outside, in the oppressive heat, with no bathroom in sight. (I guess I could have gone into the bar, but that would have required physical exertion and it was just too hot to do that. I had to save my strength for my walk into the ball park.) I think the heat was severly impairing my judgment at that point because the only solution I could think of to rid myself of the stain was to pour salt and vinegar on the spot like a weird make shift bleach. Then, a stroke of brilliance. Due to the heat, I remembered I had packed a bottle of water in my bag. So, I did what anyone else with a huge red blob on their ever expanding tummy would do. I dowsed myself with water. Within 3 seconds I looked like the front half of my body (from the top of the first roll of stomach down) and just entered (and lost) a wet tee shirt contest and yet the stain remained. So the owner of the demonic french fry bucket came up with a brilliant idea. A way to get rid of the stain and cool myself off: pour the water all over my white shirt so that all you can see is the skin underneath.
Which brings me to my point. I mean, really? Do you really want to see what I look like underneath my clothes? I'll tell you right now, it's not a pretty sight. Just take my word for it, you'll be happier in the long run. But I'm still not really sure why the ketchup bandit suggested this solution in the first place. I mean, it's not like I wear clothes that hide my awesomely bad body. (Hint: when a girl wears over size tee shirts and flowy tops, she's trying to hide a big tummy). So I ask... if you know what's coming, why even ask? I mean, I would NEVER suggest to a guy holding a beer in one hand and a brat in the other wearing a shirt that is the size of a tent and reads: I Beat Anorexia to take his shirt off. No, you just go ahead and keep that on. So guys, don't ever encourage a girl who everyone knows is barely a 4 to do and act sexier than she is. Everyone will regret it in the end.
Did you ever notice that guys who have one nice and attractive attribute think that they look like Brad Pitt? It's like a guy looks like this:
But it's like: yeah, you have a nice body, but you are covered in hair and your face looks like ALF! Ok so that's a bit of an extreme example. But in all honesty. You see a guy from behind. And you think, ok, decent body, nice arms, dressed well. Then he turns around... YIKES! He's pasty white with a giant schnoz and monkey lips and don't even get me started on the recending hair line. But he's walking around the bar like he owns the place. Please, give me a guy who may not be perfect and knows it. Now that is a real man.
See ya later Springer,
Anita Mann
Last Thursday, I attended the last game of the first series (does that make any sense?) the Orioles had with the Yankees. It was hot. I mean really hot. I mean so hot I knew what it was like to have Chamydia, except ALL OVER MY BODY! A bunch of us stopped at Pickels for a pregame beer and burger. One of us realized that he couldn't eat his burger and hold his bucket of blazing hot french fries at the same time. Since I wasn't eating anything, I was commissioned to hold said fries. Too bad this alleged "friend" failed to mention that he had slathered these fries in ketchup which proceeded to leak down the side of the bucket. I took one look at the fries, covered in cool tomato gooeyness and suddenly craved ketchup. For some reason I thought this was the only thing that could cool me off. At that point in time, I would have loved to cover myself in ketchup just to break the heat. Be careful what you wish for because you just may get it. As I pulled the aluminum foil away from the top of the french fry bucket, I looked down to see that that ketchup that was leaking all over the side, had been wiped clean BY MY FAVORITE WHITE ND SHIRT!! The game hadn't even started yet and now I had a giant red blob straight in the center of my stomach. It was like a red bulls eye in my shirt pointing to my least attractive feature: my gut. I panicked. How was I goign to get this stain out. I mean, i'm outside, in the oppressive heat, with no bathroom in sight. (I guess I could have gone into the bar, but that would have required physical exertion and it was just too hot to do that. I had to save my strength for my walk into the ball park.) I think the heat was severly impairing my judgment at that point because the only solution I could think of to rid myself of the stain was to pour salt and vinegar on the spot like a weird make shift bleach. Then, a stroke of brilliance. Due to the heat, I remembered I had packed a bottle of water in my bag. So, I did what anyone else with a huge red blob on their ever expanding tummy would do. I dowsed myself with water. Within 3 seconds I looked like the front half of my body (from the top of the first roll of stomach down) and just entered (and lost) a wet tee shirt contest and yet the stain remained. So the owner of the demonic french fry bucket came up with a brilliant idea. A way to get rid of the stain and cool myself off: pour the water all over my white shirt so that all you can see is the skin underneath.
Which brings me to my point. I mean, really? Do you really want to see what I look like underneath my clothes? I'll tell you right now, it's not a pretty sight. Just take my word for it, you'll be happier in the long run. But I'm still not really sure why the ketchup bandit suggested this solution in the first place. I mean, it's not like I wear clothes that hide my awesomely bad body. (Hint: when a girl wears over size tee shirts and flowy tops, she's trying to hide a big tummy). So I ask... if you know what's coming, why even ask? I mean, I would NEVER suggest to a guy holding a beer in one hand and a brat in the other wearing a shirt that is the size of a tent and reads: I Beat Anorexia to take his shirt off. No, you just go ahead and keep that on. So guys, don't ever encourage a girl who everyone knows is barely a 4 to do and act sexier than she is. Everyone will regret it in the end.
Did you ever notice that guys who have one nice and attractive attribute think that they look like Brad Pitt? It's like a guy looks like this:
But it's like: yeah, you have a nice body, but you are covered in hair and your face looks like ALF! Ok so that's a bit of an extreme example. But in all honesty. You see a guy from behind. And you think, ok, decent body, nice arms, dressed well. Then he turns around... YIKES! He's pasty white with a giant schnoz and monkey lips and don't even get me started on the recending hair line. But he's walking around the bar like he owns the place. Please, give me a guy who may not be perfect and knows it. Now that is a real man.
See ya later Springer,
Anita Mann
posted by KAKalac @ 1:53 PM
2 comments
