Oh The Douchebaggery

So I have the day off. It’s one of the two days a week that is guaranteed to be awesome. So I wake up and do the first thing I do when I wake up, boot up my loaner computer and spend the next hour or so pissing and moaning about how much I hate computers. I can’t get an effin’ signal and I NEED TO KNOW NOW, if there is a Craigslist missed connection finally posted about me. I see tons of postings a day. They are all about people who could be me…some who match my characteristics, some whose age and location match mine…all vague, I’m sure, but c’mon! I am out and about. I’m all about the out and about! So, I’m starting to get annoyed and quite a bit angry. Then I go to my pollyanna place and realize that I spend about fifty percent of my waking life surrounded by the following men:

Married father. You are the hero of the establishment. All the haggard moms with their unruly children crane their necks and swoon when you walk in. You wear that baby Bjorn like Spanish fly. You know they love you and you are playing up your relationship with your kids for their sake. No worries. It’s just between you and me that you are un-employed .

Dude who walked into the wrong place. Why are your pants so tight and tapered? You weigh less than me. Can I offer you a pat of butter? What’s that? A croissant? No, I know you don’t have any money. I could tell by the ironic vintage tee you bought from Urban Outfitters. That’s what they call the Salvation Army nowadays, isn’t it?

East side resident/worker who just needs a cup of coffee. You are my Shangri-la! You are a normal dude. You are natural, funny, often covered in tattoos. I have had flirtations with a few of you. Sadly, you all share one other characteristic. A girlfriend. You should start taking your business to the west-side. Sorry about all the hungry stares.