No. One. Likes. You.
Walkers: don’t like you because you are getting somewhere faster than them AND they think your helmet looks silly AND if you are wearing a skin tight outfit…they think that looks silly too.
Drivers: don’t like you because…
1. You are slow
2. They think they are going to hit you
3. No matter how far to the left thye go around you, they still think they are going to hit you
4. And while they are driving around you they imagine themselves hitting you and going to jail because of it
Just so we are clear. Road bikers…we are not friends. I have tried. I really have. This just isn’t working out. Maybe if you didn’t bike in front of me on a busy street or narrow road while it is raining at night I would feel differently…but you still do. I have put in the effort while you cease to change. And you thought I was stubborn? Yeah, look in the mirror my friend (although we were never friends. Anyways,
That’s all I have to say.
And I’m talking more specifically…grey COTTON shorts. They trap sweat like nothing I have ever seen before. Like…like…water to a sponge, like a fat kid to chocolate cake, like binge drinking to a university student, like my attention span to shiny things…
I’m not going to show a picture, but if I could transmit the permanently engrained image that I have in my mind of the unavoidably obvious sweaty nether-regions of men on the squatting racks…I would…but I can’t. It’s branded into my brain. Oh the things I’d rather imagine. Butterflies…rainbows…kittens…SWEAT-STAINED-GREY-COTTEN-SHORTS-MAN-BENDING-OVER-ahhhhhh!!!
Okay. You get the point. Must take my mind elsewhere…where’s that half empty bottle of…”water”?
This is mostly for my male friends, but a warning to people in general.
Women are known to be touchy about their appearance (ex.weight) THEREFORE if you have a suspicion that someone might be pregnant you are ordered by ME to NOT ask them “when are you due?” or “how far along are you?”
I’m doing you a favor I think…because if by any chance you are incorrect in your assumption you could send this woman to…
a) smile politely, change the topic, walk away and then go cry alone in a corner for hours
b) smile, politely, change the topic, walk away, proceed to try and starve herself
c) smile politely, change the topic, walk away, and then binge out of self loathing
d) five-star you across the face ( that would be me…then I would follow it up with c)…and then a)…)
Until someone tells you they are pregnant, don’t ask.
I don’t know about you, but I’m not up for selling my soul for that oh so coveted 15 minutes of fame.
They say you don’t feel it…you know…when you let the world (or people who waste their time watching reality TV) think you are an overbearing, pretentious, sleazy alcoholic. I don’t know. I feel like it would hurt somehow.
I have to give it to the people who edit those shows though because they are very very clever. Chopping and cropping, molding and folding clips to mesh their footage into what we perceive as a “story line” to an episode.
What is the ultimate cost?
Producers/people behind the scenes: A LOT OF MONEY
You: Loss of dignity, maybe a little self respect…but hey! Let’s look on the bright side. You did achieve some temporary fame, after all you were a trending topic on twitter for 4 hours 🙂 It’s the small victories right?
Wait…no it’s not about the small victories. LADIES! COME ON! I don’t care how big his “clock” supposedly is…it just ain’t worth it!
And woooah do not even get me started on this show and all of it’s off-spins. It’s a nightmare. It’s as though Maury Povich’s episodes where all the young girls are like “I want a baby! I don’t care that I don’t got no job and ain’t got no education!” ACTUALLY came to life and went viral throughout North America, glorifying the teenage mom struggle.
I don’t get it, but then again I don’t understand a lot of things. I plead ignorance for this continent’s inability to differentiate between what is entertainment and what is enjoying watching the pain of others…
Okay, this isn’t meant to degrade mothers whatsoever. Man, if anything, I respect moms more than words can say.
BUT this being said, having to take public transit for a good chunk of my adolescents I came to the conclusion that I just didn’t want to be that lady who had to lug her stroller on and off the bus. Not only would it be laborious and spatially inconvenient, but let me just say that there is nothing quite like the high pitch shrill of baby lungs in a confined moving vehicle with strangers.
Until I can make sure that I can get to the places I need to go without having to take the bus with my child, no babies for me! (that will be in a WHILE, don’t worry dad).
Maybe it’s the stigma…
Maybe it’s personal opinion…
MAYBE maybe maybe…
You can ultimately make the decision but this area of the body just has bad news written all over it. Sure, if you choose a better design than the one above it has potential to look nice but there is nothing cute about bending over and BAM! A little surprise for everyone. And man, if you are reaching for the top shelf, that’s a whole new ball game! People are going to be throwing out their backs to get a better look at what they will ultimately judge you on 5 seconds later. Even if you avoid the stereotyped butterfly and dolphin graphics on your lower back, nothing in our western society says “I was young and stupid” or “don’t introduce me to your parents” like a good ol’ fashion tramp stamp 🙂