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Jennifer

10/11/05

A Lesson In Cussing Properly

Filed under: Posts — JPatt @ 08:42:51 pm

Everyone always complains about Mondays, but, if you ask me, Tuesdays are pretty sucky too. In the spirit of suckiness, I've decided to define the different types of sucky men that I have slept with.

Just kidding, I don't sleep with sucky men. And if I did, I wouldn't admit to it. You see, cussing can be a really effective and artful, but so many people fuck it up. Here's an insult guide that I wrote:

Jackass A jackass desperately craves attention. He will do the worm at chill parties when everyone else is smoking a hookah. He will have prolonged conversations with people he shouldn't even be talking to, like your ex-boyfriend/girlfriend or the person you secretly hooked up with at that party who NO ONE was supposed to know about but somehow the jackass found out about. He thinks it's funny to do an impersonation of someone when the person is in the room. Commonly referred to as immature and awkward, he is the first to write on your face when you pass out.

Asshole This is one of the most overused insults. Let's clarify just what an asshole is-- A person who genuinely enjoys pissing off other people. A close cousin to Satan, the asshole delights in evil. He will you tell you he likes "messing with people." By this he means he likes to inflict pain upon the innocent. An asshole will go out of his way to make a girl cry. Later he will brag about this alleged accomplishment. The typical asshole has a sidekick, often the frighteningly skinny type who doesn't talk. If this person is a girl then the asshole will insist on constant sex in degarding locations, such as a bathroom stall. Assholes have no soul. Superheroes kill assholes.

Douche The douche overreacts to everything, especially jokes. He talks about his car a lot. He pretends to know a lot about, well, about everything. He doesn't have any close friends because no one really likes him except his mom. But no one really hates him either. Douches don't get jokes or sarcasm. Douches make stellar boyfriends because you can walk all over them. They are suckers. They also are the kind that will help you fix your flat tire or carry your groceries for you. They're pretty nice but inexcusably lame. Lots of frat guys are douches.

Smartass The smartass always has a clever put-down waiting. The humor of the smartass is at your expense. Contrary to popular belief, the smartass isn't not the guy who sits in the back of class yelling obviously wrong answers during a lecture. This guy is just an ass, maybe a jackass. A smartass catches you off guard. Here's a prime example of a smartass in action-- A girl sits in class making a grocery list including the following: milk, bread, ketchup, condoms, whiskey, drugs. If the smartass sees her list, he'll coolly ask, "Do you need eggs, too?" The next day he'll ask her how shopping was. (And no, this did not happen to me. I'd never have whiskey on a grocery list.) Smartasses don't laugh at their own jokes. Their sarcasm stings. Their voice possesses a quiet, acrid quality. They are great in arguments and debates.

Candyass The candyass is dangerously close to the douche in definition. Candyasses are socially awkward but usually pretty attractive. They agree with most everything. They continue their high school relationships in college. However, he is easy to seduce. The candyass, like the douche, also has a hard time getting jokes. He is not smooth either. Unlike the douche though, he is often well-liked and has many friends. He tries to make peace with everyone. It is very easy to make a candyass uncomfortable. Smartasses frequently do this.

Punkass Pretty much any annoying person younger or way less mature than you is a punkass. Most likely he is an alternative-type highschooler with lots of angst. He wants to be a jackass, but he's too angry at the world to get there. A punkass never has money. He steals things from you. He yells at pedestrians from the backseat window of his friend's Honda accord. Late at night he puts your Christmas lawn ornaments in obscene positions. He yells at his mom and calls everything in his entire life 'gay' and 'not fair.'

Prick This insult obviously originates in reference to those poorly-endowed. The idea is that the prick is bitter about this and thus lashes out at other people. Actually, a prick can be bitter about anything. Short guys are commonly pricks. Pricks never tip well. They yell and scream if you bump their cars, even if you don't do damage. They never give to charity. They sneer at homeless children. They usually wear suits, but have lame jobs. A prick cuts you off in traffic because he is angry about his receding hairline. Never buy drugs from a prick. He will rip you off.

Many more categories of vile men exist, but this is all for now. Most readers never make it past the second paragraph anyway.

Going to OU

Filed under: Posts — JPatt @ 04:25:57 am

In case you have been living under a rock, last weekend was the Red River Shootout (Well now they call it Red River Rivalry. I guess they felt like the other name advocated violence? I love politically incorrect things.) UT played OU in Dallas, a football tradition dating back for a hundred years. Another rather recent addition to the tradition is caravanning up to Dallas in frats' chartered buses. Their dates buy them large coolers and paint them with phrases like "Texas fight!" and "Hook 'em Horns!" with orange and white paint pens. Some of these girls get really into it, even gluing bottle caps and wooden letters to the cooler. Some girls don't give a shit and just scribble "Get drunk!" on the lid (or maybe that was just me). The whole group stays in a hotel Friday and goes to the game Saturday morning in boots and burnt orange everything. That night they have a private bar tab downtown. The whole experience is called "Going to OU" which makes no sense as we're going to Dallas, not fucking Oklahoma. God, why would anyone go to Oklahoma? Just kidding, Oklahoma is cool.

I don't know why I ever agreed to go to OU with Chaz. He's a friend of my friend George. George begged me to go with the guy. It seemed like a decent idea to me at the time. I think I was high. (Note to self: stop making decisions when high.) Chaz is probably the most unattractive person I've actually hung out with in that last four months, easily. And it wasn't just the unattractiveness. I mean, the guy blares mainstream rap music and drives a truck and has a BUZZED HAIRCUT. How can you even get into a frat with hair like his? Isn't shaggy hair a prerequisite? Sometimes I really think I'm losing faith in the frats of today. I should've known I'd have a few issues with him just from the terrible country music + truck description. I always butt heads with people like that. (Actually, I butt heads with a lot of people, all sorts of people. More on that later.)

It is also tradition for everyone to get raging drunk on the liquor and beer from the some fifty coolers lining the aisle. (I assume bus-drivers are bribed because this is definitely some sort of hazard.) By the end of the ride I had put away at least a dozen jello shots (hey, they weren't that strong, and I was hungry) and refilled my flask with everclear. All I remember is rambling to my date about how my hands are so huge (they are) and him comparing his hand to mine. His was smaller. (I'm telling you, my hands are fucking monstrous.) This led to a conversation about feet size equally penis size. I got really uncomfortable, as his hand periodically found its way to my thigh. I think George told him I'm a slut. I'm much too picky and conniving to be a slut. I didn't really know how to end the awkward conversation and thigh touching, so I told him I felt sick and needed to vomit. This shut him up real quick, and I scampered away. (If you ever want to shut up a guy either make out with him or tell him you're going to vomit. The latter is best when you'd also like to leave his presence.)

The next morning the bus left at 10:30AM. I woke up at 10:15. I was vomiting by 10:20. But I got my shit together because our seats were 12th row on the 30-yard line. I almost felt guilty having such kickass seats, as I don't understand/care about football too much. I still cheer "Give 'em Hell, give 'em Hell! OU sucks!" And I wear my burnt orange kitten heels, but the concept of twenty-two guys tackling each other over some oddly shaped ball doesn't exactly enthrall me. The game did prove pretty intense; at some points even I was entertained. We won I think 42 to 14. I might be wrong about that score... apologies to any football fans out there. This win proves especially significant because UT has lost to OU for the past five years. I was so happy/drunk that I almost forgot my date was a complete douche.

We light up the university tower orange every win.

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