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I am so confused…

Right This WayI must be losing my mind.  Something is happening to me and I can’t figure it out.  I use to love getting reactions out of people!  In fact, approximately 30% of my actions are perpetrated just to see what the other involved party will do.  For instance, even if the entire parking lot is empty I still park in the spaces that are reserved for expectant mothers and car poolers.

There is no fucking way I am giving up my spot for someone who can’t afford a car or some soccer mom with a bun in the oven who probably needs the exercise anyway. It’s just not happening! My favorite part is walking out of the store with a case of beer and watching the sneers on people’s faces as I jump in my car parked in one of those spots.  .

But alas, a sad de-evolution has been happening to me lately.  Not only have I not been seeking to elicit a reaction, but in some cases I don’t even have anything to say when provoked, and it is starting to confuse and scare me.  I recently got torn a new asshole, via email…classy, and instead of retaliating I tried to defend myself with logic and reason…what was I thinking?  I would have been better off unleashing a verbal beat down…at least I would feel better about it! Who knows?

In an even more discouraging and confusing example, I went to a house party this weekend with a couple buddies and immediately regretted going, but figured I would tough it out for a little while to be a nice guy.  Within 5 minutes of being there some guy comes up to me and says that he just finished having sex with my mother and that he still had her pussy in his pocket.  What?  Not only was he not my mother’s type, but it just seemed unlikely that he could actually get her pussy in there willingly and there didn’t seem to be any signs of a struggle.  Hmmmmm…

Anyway, my jaw dropped.  Not because he was attempting to insult me but because he was such a douche bag he actually thought that was clever.  I was speechless, paralyzed by stupidity.  What the hell is happening to me?

Immediately I looked around to reevaluate my surroundings.  Even through the blaring trance/house music being spun by some corny ass dude unofficially sponsored by Rock Star Energy Drink, I was able to spot no less than 5 “Tap Out” shirts with my first glance.  I like MMA as much as the next guy, but come on!  Unless you have a winning record in the UFC I don’t want to see your goofy ass parading around in a shirt that proclaims your toughness.  Odds are you would get your ass kicked by the white trash girl in the kitchen hitting the gravity bong. (I can’t believe it either; this party was so 2000 and late).

The whole environment confused and bewildered me. I started to feel like a stripper doing long division. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t understand what was going on.  Why am I so confused?  What else don’t I know?

How is it possible in today’s day and age, women still walk around with hair between their legs?  It’s mind boggling and just plain gross!  I understand shaving can cause razor burn, but I would much rather deal with a few little bumps on your lady lumps than end up pulling hair balls out of my mouth. I can even empathize with you that getting waxed is probably somewhat awkward and maybe even a little uncomfortable; but what’s the alternative, looking like you have a midget’s head in a death grip with your thighs?  Hell, take advantage of today’s technology and get that shit lasered.

Besides it being aesthetically unpleasing, let’s look for a moment at the health ramifications of not defuzzing your peach.  There is Siiiicky, brah!indisputable scientific evidence that the crabs epidemic of the early 90’s has been stifled by the popularity of the Brazilian look, which has paved the way for much more interesting STD’s, like gonorrhea and Chlamydia. Maybe I am getting smarter?

Without warning, my concentration was broken as five more guys, but only two more Tap Out shirts, stormed into the front door and started serving up high fives like a free breakfast at Denny’s.  What the fuck was going on?  I live in Scottsdale, this shit doesn’t happen here.  Am I imagining all of this?

Disinterested in the crowd, I pulled out my phone to Google the correct spelling skullduggery (my new favorite word, thanks Mike Tyson) and I noticed that with his recent arraignment some more news has surfaced about Plaxico Burress shooting himself.

If you are not familiar, about 9 months ago a New York Giants football player allegedly, accidentally fired 2 bullets into his own leg with a gun that he had tucked into the waste band of the sweat pants he was wearing while at a New York City nightclub.  This story is obviously important for a number of reasons, but most importantly: why the fuck was Plaxico wearing sweatpants at a club? You are worth millions of dollars and you can’t afford a pair of True Religion jeans?  Really?  Really?1?! What kind of club do you wear sweat pants to?  I wouldn’t even wear sweat pants to Sam’s Club. I can’t even justify wearing sweatpants around the house any more.  I don’t even care about the gun charge, the fashion police should throw his black ass in jail for life

Fuck, I am still at this party.  Why does Jesus hate me?  I wonder if I could go back in time and ask him?  What did guys do before the invention the Scrunchy? Without this modern engineering marvel, getting a blow job just wouldn’t be the same.  It is so much more enjoyable watching the ladies as they do their thing, guys are visually stimulated, and it is just way too much hassle to hold their hair back for them.  I would like to think that if I had been born a generation sooner that the Scrunchy would have been my claim to fame, but alas, I was beaten to the punch.  I can only hope that no one steals my idea for the ashtray helmet I am working on…

Oh, time to go?  And we’re heading for pizza?  I may have lost my mind, but at least I didn’t lose my appetite.

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About Noah Dipasquale Noah currently resides in Scottsdale, AZ and is your average 23 year old guy, living in a 30 year old's body. He considers himself deeply romantic; meaning he will cuddle after sex for about 5 minutes before falling asleep. Noah justifies his not being an alcoholic by not drinking in the morning, on week days. His life revolves around sex, and for some reason tends to masturbate even more when he's getting it regularly. He is the self-proclaimed 13,765th best looking male in America and once spent an entire night telling every girl that he spoke with that Red Bull prevents pregnancy and STD's, most believed him. Lastly, Noah definitely did not go to Jared.

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