Men, as a rule, are a.)idiots and b.) jerks. There are of course a few exceptions, as there are to every rule.
Yes, I had a fairly good weekend aside from feeling like a run down dog for the greater part of three days, four if you count today. But something I noticed while out this weekend is what's set me off.
Saturday night I went dancing with a bunch of girls for one of our friends birthday's. Now, if you know women, we say we're going dancing with the girls, and what we mean is we're going dancing with the girls in hopes of some cute guy noticing the way we shake our butts and coming over to buy us a drink. Really, in the scheme of things, it's not any different than guys saying "We're gonna go out for a few drinks" when what they really mean is "We're gonna go see how stupid drunk we can get while trying to catch the attention of the shortest skirt in the room". This is fine, it's complete human nature.
Here's the real rant. I'm a pretty great person, contrary to popular belief. I'm not rail thin, I'm not 6 feet tall, and the odds of me "shaking my butt" to anything other than something that can be two stepped too, are slim. But, while I'd like to say my personality is my key trait, lets face it, the real thing is that I've got huge boobs. And, not to mention really beautiful eyes (and that's not my opinion either!). Several times on Saturday night a bunch of us would be sitting together making fun of these girls that were huge walking into the bar wearing the skimpiest of clothing and a cute guy would walk up and completely bypass me for the sluttiest girl at the table.
Um, hello?
Secondly, DeNae (the girl who's birthday we were celebrating) know's a lot of people. So, all night I was being introduced to guys. All night I was getting "fishy" handshakes. You know the kind, with a limp wrist that makes a guy look like he's spent to much time alone in the bathroom. Look, I'm a business woman, I shake hands like a man. I don't like the whole "let me take the tip of your fingers and pretend you're the Queen of England" thing. If I offer you my hand, suck it up, and take it like a man for Pete's sake!
Okay, I'm done now. Thanks for being so patient or using the little "x" at the top of the screen without complaining. I'm now going to go inhale some gargantuine amount of highly caffinated, very sweet, too light, coffee with the hopes of staying awake until 5 pm.
I got a funny feeling we missed a page or two somehow Ohh-ohhhh, Cinderella, maybe you could help us out Does the shoe fit you now
Through the years and the kids and the jobs
Hey hey, Cinderella, what's the story all about
We're older but no more the wise -- suzy bogguss -- |
Men Today I'm going to take this very precious time to rant. About what, you ask? Men. Men, as a rule, are a.)idiots and b.) jerks. There are of course a few exceptions, as there are to every rule. Yes, I had a fairly good weekend aside from feeling like a run down dog for the greater part of three days, four if you count today. But something I noticed while out this weekend is what's set me off. Saturday night I went dancing with a bunch of girls for one of our friends birthday's. Now, if you know women, we say we're going dancing with the girls, and what we mean is we're going dancing with the girls in hopes of some cute guy noticing the way we shake our butts and coming over to buy us a drink. Really, in the scheme of things, it's not any different than guys saying "We're gonna go out for a few drinks" when what they really mean is "We're gonna go see how stupid drunk we can get while trying to catch the attention of the shortest skirt in the room". This is fine, it's complete human nature. Here's the real rant. I'm a pretty great person, contrary to popular belief. I'm not rail thin, I'm not 6 feet tall, and the odds of me "shaking my butt" to anything other than something that can be two stepped too, are slim. But, while I'd like to say my personality is my key trait, lets face it, the real thing is that I've got huge boobs. And, not to mention really beautiful eyes (and that's not my opinion either!). Several times on Saturday night a bunch of us would be sitting together making fun of these girls that were huge walking into the bar wearing the skimpiest of clothing and a cute guy would walk up and completely bypass me for the sluttiest girl at the table. Um, hello? Secondly, DeNae (the girl who's birthday we were celebrating) know's a lot of people. So, all night I was being introduced to guys. All night I was getting "fishy" handshakes. You know the kind, with a limp wrist that makes a guy look like he's spent to much time alone in the bathroom. Look, I'm a business woman, I shake hands like a man. I don't like the whole "let me take the tip of your fingers and pretend you're the Queen of England" thing. If I offer you my hand, suck it up, and take it like a man for Pete's sake! Okay, I'm done now. Thanks for being so patient or using the little "x" at the top of the screen without complaining. I'm now going to go inhale some gargantuine amount of highly caffinated, very sweet, too light, coffee with the hopes of staying awake until 5 pm.
Brief - 2007-07-05
all content copyright shewhowalks 2005
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