The good news is that these brain farts tend to be pretty funny. Here are the top four:
What you’re gonna want to do is cook the same fucking shit every fucking day. The key here is to have no variation, so that with every meal you’re slightly disappointed.
It’s a dilemma most every man has gone through, and it goes a little something like this:
You’re walking down the street and you see a gorgeous woman standing on the corner. She’s talking on the phone and she laughs, and you swear it’s the loveliest sound that you’ve ever heard. You need to ask her out. But who’s she on the phone with? It could be her boyfriend. And even if it’s not, what are you going to do? Interrupt her mid-conversation? That would be rude. I suppose you could wait around until she hangs up. Kindy creepy though. Plus, you might make yourself late for work.
And as you’re thinking all of this, your legs keep moving you forward until you round the corner, and she vanishes from sight. You allow yourself to daydream of her for a time, but then your workday begins, and she fades from potential lover to forgotten stranger.
It’s a sad little experience but one that’s all too common for me. I grew tired of this happening, and decided that the next time I saw a hot girl talking on the phone, I would ask her out. No more excuses.
A few days ago, I needed to transfer money from my Spanish bank account to my U.S. one, to ensure that my debt monsters received their monthly feeding. I’d done this a few times last year, and didn’t foresee it taking longer than ten minutes. Two hours later, I found myself waiting in line at the bank, laptop in hand, so that I could physically show someone the error message I had received.
As I stood in line, I became more and more frustrated with what I perceived to be each wasted minute of my day: “I should have already gotten groceries, gone to the gym, and cooked lunch by now. Instead, I’m standing in this fucking bank”.
Confidence was never something that came naturally to me, and I could never understand why.
I remember trying to reason it out in high school: “How is that kid on the football team so cocky and certain? He’s not even that good on the team and I’m captain of the varsity soccer team. He’s not that smart academically and I’ve got straight A’s in my AP classes (note to self, do not use that as a pick up line). He hardly says anything that funny and I’d like to think I’m a witty guy. Even on the scale of attractiveness (although this is a hard one to be objective about) I’d say we’re about even.