Crazy Little Thing Called.....

So back in December I got the great idea that I could write for the school paper. Not because I want to be a journalist, but because I guess I like to write. Plus, I'd like to think that I was funny and that would be a good way to find out. So I was set to try until I was told that the paper doesn't work like that and wouldn't publish my stuff, so of course I gave up my idea en un dos por tres, which in spanish translates into something like "lickety-split." I had hoped that this post would be published:

Callipygian adj.: Having beautifully proportioned buttocks.

Back when I was wee lad of 17 and in high school, Rachel came up with this theorem: “The hot people, date hot people. The ugly people, date ugly people. And everyone in the middle finds no one”. At first I dismissed it as untrue and the only response I could muster was “poppycock”, but upon further inspection I realized she was right. Now I know what you’re saying, “I had a boyfriend/girlfriend and I wouldn’t consider myself hot”. Well guess what that means….You are/were ugly. Simple as that. Okay so maybe that was a little harsh. I beg your pardon, allow me to evoke the “nine times out of ten” rule. Nine times out of ten this is the case.

Now the question remains: Why are the middle-folk (for argument sakes, we’ll call us Normies) not able to find a significant other? The answer is quite simple, Normies refuse to settle. Upper class uglies tend to fall for Normies, but the Normies know they can do better. Eventually the uglies realize their situation and date within their own ranks and become happy. Normies on the other hand hold out for that ideal mate.

But some Normies have it worse. Some of us, such as yours truly, have fallen victim to the Piccinich Factor. (This of course is also assuming that I fall into the Normie ranks) This basically prevents us from initiating any sort of conversation with girls. Remember American Gladiators? I don’t think Nitro ever let the challengers get to the top of the wall. Mike Adamle and Larry Czonka both knew what was going to happen before the event even started. They could announce it with their eyes closed. This clairvoyance could also be used to dictate what happens when I go out.

MA: There goes Rick trying to talk to that girl.
LC: Oh man there he goes quoting obscure movies that no one knows.
MA: Ouch, a cutting sarcastic remark from Rick.
LC: Looks like she has given him the cold shoulder.
MA: Maybe his first mistake was walking over there with a Shirley Temple in his hand?

So now after years of rejection, I am tentative to make any sort of move. We’ll take LG for example. Now she has an absolutely breath-taking heiney. I mean that thing is good. I want to be friends with it. But will I ever get enough confidence to say anything? Of course not. And plus her boyfriend is a stupid wrestler who probably has herpes. But I digress, this is me venting.

I could go into about a hundred more situations and how horribly inept I am at them, this past weekend included, but that is beside the point. But I do know that if I hear the phrases: “I don’t want to lose you as a friend” or “I think of you like a brother” anymore I may just snap. They need to come up with some sort of medicine that suppresses emotional retardation. Then again said medication may be called alcohol.