Hey DudeBro! Are you busy writing online dating profiles while safely hiding from the hateful sun in your basement computer room? Are you spewing paragraphs upon paragraphs out, explaining why, and you’re just not sure, but life hasn’t somehow coalesced a hunk or meat and star stuff together that would seek you out like a rat to cheese? In other words, are you busy hammering away at your keyboard, typing out an unentertaining, uninteresting, unbearably unctuous scream of acute self-consciousness (except maybe not so much after all) masquerading as Something Important, in much the same way as Shia LaBeouf but without Fallopian tubes?
Well stop it, mister. Look, there are plenty of good reasons to ostracize you, but this one takes the cake. Not that I’m assigning blame (which I absolutely am); personally, I blame Sandra Bullock…for pretty much anything. I can’t get a seat on a flight, Sandra Bullock must have parked her fat butt on the last one. My friend’s 5-year-old starts using air quotes and sneering, “Really ‘funny’ Lucas,” I’m guessing that Gorgon Sandra Bullock taught him that trick in day care.
The men’s room, far too close to my work station in the squadron for comfort, has a stench that is peeling paint and melting tiles, odds are that Sandra Bullock snuck in there yet again and “marked her territory” after another long night galloping naked down the freeway on all fours, her foaming, voluminous maw scooping up and devouring road kill while innocent motorists turn to stone at the mere sight of her massive, scaled hide, their cars colliding and exploding in enormous fireballs—but I digress.
Suffice it to say, this is a great system, and I highly recommend it. It’s ostensibly the reason that you’re whatever age you are and still single. And you know by now that yeah, you’re older than dirt. You asked a girl out and she responded with, “Helter skelter, hang sorrow, care will kill a cat, up-tails all, and a pox on the hangman! The living antiquity speaks.” And that’s just crushing.
So my advice to you, dude (and be careful in the modern dating scene, because dude, that dude’s a dude, dude, but so’s that girl), is to get outside. Make something of yourself, Go backpacking. Sure, you might get a 127-Hours experience of your very own, but then at least you’ll make a couple million, or maybe just be in massive debt. But look at it this way! You’ll have a better excuse as to why you’re a jobless schlub, other than the fact that Sandra Bullock scent-marked you so hardcore that your employer fired you and you’ve been blinded for days, your eyelids liquefying at the stench, blood running out of your nose, unable to even see to get make a new job application.
Go get ’em, tiger!