Every time I hear some tool screaming out offensive wolf calls to random, unsuspecting women, I can't help but wonder what they could possibly be thinking. Do they really believe, in their tiny little minds, that a declaration of "Hey girl, nice ass!" will receive a favorable reaction? Are the women they're accosting expected to reply, "Oh my God, THANK YOU!! Here, why don't you take my number and give me a call? I like your style, sir!" or something like that?
This morning, when one of the above mentioned asshats went out of his way to tell me that my ass is "phat with a p, shawty", I really began thinking about what must be happening in his brain. Who IS this guy? What does his thought process look like from his perspective? And here's what I've decided the inner dialogue of a douchebag must be...
Let me know if you agree.
"Hey, baby! I know where you want it, and I can put it there for you! No? WhatEVER, bitch!"
Yeah, I'm yelling at women from my fifteen year old sports car. I'm gonna peel out afterward, crank the volume on my stereo, and hi-five my friend in the passenger seat. And I'm gonna do it because the noise drowns out the sobbing in my head.
If I were to meet you face-to-face at a club, I'd avoid eye contact and look into my Long Island Iced Tea... but look who's avoiding eye contact now! HA HA HA - YEAH BABY.
I haven't been with a woman since I was 17 years old - she was 42. I met her after I yelled "Papa like-y!" and then rode my 10 speed into a ditch... she picked me up out of the ditch and... wait - hold that thought.
"Hey, you red-hot piece of scrumptious! I see what you're selling, and I wanna buy everything you've got in stock! No? Your loss, slut!"
A partial list of things I've made love to:
- A teddy bear
- A sock
- Twelve different types of pillows
- A blow up doll
- A poster of Farrah Fawcett I found in my dad's closet
- A raw steak
- A banana peel
- A chicken breast (cooked, because Salmonella kills)
- A warm twinkie
- A 42 year old who picked me up out of a ditch when I crashed my 10-speed
In high school, I had only three friends; Tony, Marco, and Cody. Now I only have two friends; Tony and Cody. Marco ended up being gay, and when he told us, I punched him in the face and called him a faggot. What I really wanted to do was praise him for the courage to reveal such an emotional elephant to us, but I didn't because of the paralyzing fear in my gut that I find men attractive, too. Woah, look at this... TWO chicks at 2 o'clock! Hang on a second.
"What's up, bitches?? Wanna go for a ride? All the seats in this Chevy are occupied, but I could make some room for you.... ON MY FACE! No takers? Suit yourselves, cunts!"
Things I've Yelled At Women From My Car That Have Proven To Be Ineffective:
- I'm overcome by your attractiveness!
- Those jogging shoes are extremely fashionable!
- It's supposed to rain later today!
- You resemble my mother from behind!
- Papa like-y!
Anyway, yeah... I yell things at women from my car. I yell "Nice ass!" and "Sweet tits!" and I scream "Stuck-up bitch!" or "Whore!" if they ignore me. I have no idea what I'd do if any of them actually answered me favorably. I doubt I perform well in bed, and would probably cry on the pillow next to them. But since that's never happened, I'll just keep on keepin' on.
