Saturday, December 3, 2011

Things They Need to Hear Thursdays: Man-Child Edition

Someone finally listened to me and gave me a topic for our Thursday snarks. Mandi (who is currently doing a very funny rundown of stupid Xmas gifts, that I am loving) is a landlady for an apartment complex I imagine to be kinda like mine since it's in a college town and whatnot. So, basically, even though I'm not a man-child, I'm pretty sure I'll have to take my own advice from this letter.

Dear Man-Children,

I understand that it is invigorating to be out in the world, forging your way forward, with no one telling you what to do, but everyone else is sick of it. Being disgusting is not a lifestyle choice. If you want mommy to still clean up after you, then I suggest you go live with her; save non-gross people from having to see not only the clothes you've been "sniff testing" and wearing for a month, but the ghastly body they've been covering. If someone from your leasing office is coming by to show your apartment: moldy pizza should be thrown out, last night's 'great personality' must be shown out, and pants are required. Not optional. I didn't know I'd need to explain this, but women are slightly different from men. I've noticed that the presence of breasts (or a padded bra) are really the only requirements for wanting to see someone naked for the male populace. Let me learn you something here: more requirements exist for the discerning (read: sober) woman. I can picture men naked when I drive around campus at prime jogging time (curse you winter, with your jackets), but you aren't those guys. Those guys could walk around in public naked; you may not even walk around your apartment naked. I promise, you have a better chance of getting laid with your clothes on (fumble in the dark like everyone else, asshole). Invest in a garbage can, put on your pants, and smile at the landlady; she's probably a funny ass bitch.


OK I know it's Saturday, but I woke up on Thursday with a rash all over (though not on the bits you'd be nervous about a rash on, so huzzah for that) and, honestly, I'm not enough of a grown-up to know how to be "adult sick." As in, how to take care of myself/fill prescriptions/go to work anyway/not have my mommy around . So you're getting this late, but at least you're getting it at all (if I had a nickel...). Also, my backspace button is being a bastard so any issues with grammar or syntax should be directed to my backspace key.

1 comment:

  1. I heart you so very much. I couldn't have said it better myself.