The female of the species we call Human Beanies has got it pretty rough. First there was the sending them away when they were menstruating... comment withheld... and these days it's back around to sexual identity. Life is difficult enough without wondering how you look through a pair of night-vision goggles. I blame women themselves. Not "WOMEN" in general, but a blame that is as much as I blame men for each of our own issues. And if you're pissed right now, take a friggin' Midol and whatever pill makes you accountable to yourself and relax.
Oh wow, the "women's magazines" throw out all these terms like "LEAN" and "TONE" and "FLAT" and "BULIMIA" and "RENAL FAILURE." Then don't F'ing buy them. You can get every recipe, workout tip, and list of "Top 10 Secret Hollywood Crushes" off the internet for free. (btw, the only common factor in all 3 of those is Steve Buscemi) Have you seen a men's health-oriented magazine? Not Maxim, which may or may not be the Wall Street Journal for Acquaintance Rapists. Men's magazines talk about how you should be wearing this Armani jacket with these Ferragamos, running this interval workout in between pushing your new Aston Martin when you can't make it to the gym because you have to be on the jet to Milan in an hour, and hey, wear condom when you arrive because you are getting tons of ass, right? Luckily, I can't read.
Yeah, guys have to go to Europe now to get women who aren't as concerned with their bodies. Why? Because in America, the media has thrown around so many images of what "sexy" is, that after a while, somebody believes it. And if a woman has even one extra inch of unf*ckable flesh to her, then NOPE, sorry, she just ain't gonna be popular enough to make out with before closing time. HORSE'S SHIT. Confidence is sexy. Confidence in the swing on the back porch is even sexier.
Get an eyeful, readers, it's called "Jenny McCarthyism." Blonde, blue eyed, boobily-inflated Jenny sprung up a decade ago and was immediately the "it" girl. Recently, she had a procedure done that removed a peanut M&M-sized, flesh-colored mole from the bridge of her nose. That was her "it." But it's in some jar on her nightstand next to the TrimSpaz, Absolut, and nightly eye cream. Bye-bye mole. Why? Oh hell, how about VANITY? Did you know it was there? No, because you were too busy looking at her fake tits and airbrushed bikini line and ass. What you see isn't what you get. And she chopped it off. It was her only endearing quality.
It's not what you're eating, it's what's eating you. Discipline. Dedication. Brazilian. Monobrow. Happy Trail. Flatulence. One testicle. Size of an apple. That can see your future. Lactose intolerance. Abcessed choad. Nobody is perfect. Nobody you see. Nobody you saw. Nobody you fooled around with. That's what's so great. If we were all perfect, we'd know better than to have that next 3 martooners and lock lips and hips now and again. There'd be no stories or lessons to learn and then lock away out of shame. What happens in Vegas, stays at Planned Parenthood. Stop that groaning shit RIGHT NOW.
I think my biggest impetus for writing this was my trip to the gym last night. I was really pushing around some heavy iron, for what reason, I don't know. I've never been half-way through writing cross-formulas and needed to rep-out some military presses. Never had my raise hinge on a one-rep deadlift. No matter how hard that hardbody is working on that body, there are no reps to build "likeability." Long-story slightly longer, there are more magazines with "perfect" bodies on the cover because there's no way to sell Personality. Perfection is in the eye of the beholder. Personality is in the heart. And pants.
Now drop your top.
Take Me Home
My Blog About My Dad
Geoff Lott: Comedian, Writer, Philosoteur. I am here to amuse you, not entertain you. If not now, later. If not you, somebody else. If you can't laugh at yourself, that's just fine, too. I will do it for you.
2 comments:
You think WE'RE obsessed with physical beauty, have you seen an asian magazine? I check 'em out at my local teryaki joint. They have everything from exercise equipment to suggested plastic surgery.
The majority of "men's" magazines consist mainly of soft core porn. You get to see all the latest lingerie shot's of the Carmen Electra du jour with any nipple or bush evidence air-brushed out.
The only "men's" magazine that shows any hint of fashion and health is 'GQ', but we know only gays read it.
Women have it pretty rough, seriously. Sure some of them use or abuse the "chick" card to their advantage to get what they want.
They look halfway decent, as society says they should, and they're exploited for money or become a victim of crime. I'm glad I was born with a penis, and can live and die in obscurity.
After all the money Playboy made off of Jenny McCarthy, I have no problem with her making some for herself off of her looks. As long as she doesn't open her annoying yap.
How about Jennifer Gray's stupid attempt at plastic surgery. She shot herself in the foot (more like pocketbook), by getting plastic surgery and no longer looking like she used to. Great if you're entering a witness protection program, but lousy if your job relies on looking a certain way.
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