Wednesday, March 21, 2007

To all the girls I've loved before: Let me fuck you.

As time marches on, people change. Lives change. You grow up. You grow older. Your responsibilities take up more of your time. As life goes on and things get more complex, you realize 'man, I don't want to be the old guy in the club.' Then you start changing and becoming more of an adult... you're not starting fights anymore. You don't particularly care to listen to new bands. You don't mind that your pants don't fit anymore. You realize Vice magazine IS retarded. You grow.

Me, I'm living life ass-backward. When I was young I was all-work, no anything else. I was an efficient, gut-churning knuckle cracking machine. After awhile I became like the dudes from Mobb Deep: "fuck a new friend, they just potential enemies."

But as time marched on, I have changed. Shout out to Glen Morales for the advice. I now have tons of free-time. I am so physically differnt from a year and a half ago that people don't recognize me anymore. I saved a fuckton of money that I will retire on ASAP. I love my job. I am kicking ass on the stuff that killed me back when I (sort of) went to school. I'm happy. I'm content. And I'm trying to help the few people that used to help me, and trying to make up for the awful things I got caught up in when I was younger which have haunted me for years.

Now comes to kicker.

To all the old girls I used to have crushes on: LET ME FUCK YOU.

Seriously, now's the time. You're getting older. Being a drunk skank at 21 was acceptable... at 26 it's kind of sad. You're now staring down the barrel of the '2 kids and a minivan' gun, which is perfectly respectable and an admirable way to live your life. You gotta prepare. You gotta save. You gotta make decisions that will affect your life and the lives of people you love.

But I ain't doin' it, and that's not my fault, so let me fuck you.

Seriously, what do you say you build a nice pyre and we have a viking funeral for your youth? The match and gas combo? My slinger and yer thinger.

Now, I may have a reputation as a lady-killer, asshole, Machiavellian zombie on a slow-mo death march, but really I'm a very charming and wonderful man. Seriously. Every woman I've dated will attest to this. Ask around.

For the sake of argument and consideration, I'll throw down the top five reasons you should jump on the old pogo stick after half a bottle of red-wine and the first few songs of Sade's Love Deluxe album.

1. You liked me when you were younger, despite yourself.

2. My record collection drops jaws.

3. A diet of tuna fish, vegetables, and water has made me inhuman in terms of energy.

4. I'll never see you again. Don't front like you'll catch me at the grocery store.

5. You're still mad about your ex-boyfriend.

So book up an evening at a cheap motel. Get some Mad Dog 20/20 or some Moet if you're feelin' 'high-class.' Stop thinkin' about the mortgage. Relax and let the wave o'Ev' wash over you like so much lava-of-love. And prepare some ice.

Because I'm not 15 anymore.


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