I'll come up with something in a minute.

Open Letter

Dear Nick Coles,

Having gotten a good look at you, and you’re not fooling anyone with front combing, it sort of seems like you calling Salma Hayek fat is… well… pretty lame. If you’re going to cast stones, you should sort of make sure you’re not doing it from a greenhouse, that’s all I’m saying. I mean most the girls on your little list won’t sleep with me either, and I’m cute and eminently fuckable, but I wouldn’t go insulting them just because they’d probably never sleep with me. Oh sure, we could both argue that none of them will never meet either of us, and I could also point out that they’re all seriously hot, but those a small points and we both know it.

I get it, you’re still pissed because the one time you tried to feel up Suzy Jenkins during the re-release of Empire Strikes Back she elbowed you in the crotch and you feel that all females must now be made to pay. I get that. You hate womankind because they don’t love you and your neck beard. They probably laugh at you when you wear socks with sandals and yawn when you talk about your anime figure collection and how many warcraft figures you’ve got*. However, calling a seriously hot chick fat just because no woman will ever open the lace gate and let you prowl around the grounds is just fucking lame. It would be almost as lame as if I’d suggested you were gay… you miserable little faggot. How is there room for you in that closet with all those pretty, pretty shoes? Seriously, you want to be a fat, balding, unattractive closet case, please don’t take it out on women who are delightful.

Hugs and kisses,
Me

…Yeah, I don’t like the high horse ground**, I get vertigo.

Now if I may speak seriously for a moment, I like all kinds of girls. Trim and fit is delightful, but I also like girls with a bit of curve on the hip and enough on the chest to fill a good sized bra and I like chicks who pack a few extra pounds as well. Cute is cute, no matter what shape you’re dealing with. I like a good looking girl, a girl who looks good for her. And in fact, for the most part, fashionably skinny is actually way thinner than I like. Doesn’t look healthy to be frank. There is a difference between naturally thin and Paris Hilton. Healthy, that’s all I’m looking for in a physical being. That hardly matters though because what I’m really interested in, the thing I really want to be firm, trim, and in tip top working order is the brain. If the skull filling isn’t working at optimal speeds than I really do get bored and loose interest. I’d prefer to be able to have a conversation, it’s just how I am. So yeah, if you want to apply for a slot at my Home for Wayward Catgirls***, a resume of intellectual accomplishments would probably be more welcome than a headshot.

Seriously guys, at some point we’re going to have to sit down and give overweight guys who wear sockdals and refuse to perform even the most basic hygiene and yet still find time to talk smack about women a good hard smack in the head. I’m getting tired of a pack of fat, hairy, smelly guys who think socks and sandals are a good idea talking about a chick who has it all together like she’s not even worth looking at because she’s been known to have a hair out of place in the morning for 3 minutes. Not shaving for a week is fine if you look good or if the ladies love rubbing your sexy man stubble, but you’ve still got to wash up, make sure your body odor doesn’t qualify as a chemical weapon and brush your teeth after eating.

We’ll return to this subject later, right now I have a headache.

*Yeah, I fucking went there.
**High ground, not high horse. Sorry, got lost in my metaphors for a second.
***Long story, don’t ask.

January 20, 2009 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Part 12

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January 20, 2009 Posted by | Uncategorized | | Leave a comment

Part 11

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So THAT’S why nothing is growing in that pot!
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Bald spot again! Odd, becuase this Charlie is the back yard Charlie. I wonder if he’s going all the way around the house or if this is a chipmunk thing.
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Front yard Charlie, with bald spot.
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Fancy, the ruler of the universe, sitting among her plants.

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Folly, the eternal kitten, with some bags of mulch that should have been taken care of weeks ago.

Fancy looks at catnip
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Then Fancy looks at me.

Ducks!
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Bird that I can’t be bothered to look up, looking at the fish in the pond.
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Swallows
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January 20, 2009 Posted by | Uncategorized | | Leave a comment