Man, it seems like only a year ago that I was posting my eloquent and very well written 200th Blog Post Spectacular. Wait, it was. Well, what can I say? With a job that has more downtime than Congress, and a brain that never sleeps, there ends up being a lot to write about sometimes. And in a little over a year, I have posted 100 blogs which say absolutely nothing of note or anything worthwhile to society. Surely I deserve some sort of prize for this. Yeah, probably a Pulitzer. Unless Mr. Obama decides to write his Christmas Card this year...then I'm screwed.
So, I've had this post on my radar for a while. And I've been trying to figure out what I could do to make it special, make it epic! I mean, 300 blog posts is nothing to sneeze at. In the 200th, I led you on a trip down memory lane, discussing blogs of the past that were notable, or not. I also gathered some quotes from people who had found my blog useful, and gave a few paragraphs to my main guestwriter, so he could get his 2 cents in. This time around, the milestone blog needs to be something different. Something amazing! But what?
Well, I think it's time to revisit this blog's roots. This blog started out as a place for me to rant. It was called "Pat's Rants...and other things." The point of it was to bitch and moan about anything that bothered me. With that in mind, I think its time for me to open up this forum to anyone who reads this blog to write a rant about whatever they want. So, as a way to celebrate 300 blogs of rants, here's the ranting of my devoted readers!
------------------------------
The Plight of the Surrogate Boyfriend
by Jimmy B
All of my life women have been like salt water, all around, but none from which I may partake.
This has been ever magnified when I went to college and subsequently graduate school. My major has become a very female dominated science, at a three-to-one ratio when I was in college. From that time I would meet girls who like me for being such a nice guy, but put me in friend purgatory, or the friend zone for some. This, in my experience is inescapable. Many think that this is the worst location to be in for a male, but I have discovered a new low in the male experience in relation to females: the surrogate boyfriend.
While this seems promising, with the word “boyfriend” in it, this is truly not the case, as the surrogate boyfriend gets all the shittiest parts of being attached to a girl. This part is listening to all of the girl bullshit and bitching and moaning and “Oh my God! Blank(some other Bitch) doesn’t like me, and I hate Blank(yet another Bitch)”. This however is not the worst part, as in my experience as a surrogate boyfriend I also get to hear about these girls pining for other guys or bitching about a current random hookup. This seems cool at first, but the fun fades quickly. For example one of the girls I know whom I served as surrogate boyfriend over the summer called me five times from out of state to bitch to me about the guys she was “seeing” and all this other shit that I would rather jab a pencil in my eye and then ram that same pencil into my scrotum then listen to. After a while I want to scream into the phone “I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THE GUYS YOU ARE BLOWING IF I AM NOT ONE OF THEM”.
That instance aside I will move onto my most recent instance of almost becoming a surrogate boyfriend. I actually took this girl out on a great date, then she began to blow me off, which I don’t mind, it happens and she had and airport full of baggage that was really not worth potential fellatio. So I am fine with the situation, but then I get “the texts”. These “texts” are the ones that try to keep some hope of a relationship, but still not a physical one. These are not just the friendship ones, but the “are you mad at me?” that one gets if I don’t wax eloquently in response as I did via text when I was trying to bang her. MAKE UP YOUR MIND BITCH. Thus, she was beginning to create the scenario in which I was going to stay in the stasis of fawning for her, which they love, but still not giving her the old in-out-in-out. This is the surrogate boyfriend situation. I could already feel the texts and phone calls about her having a test in not getting dicked, and failing. Then I could imagine myself having to shell out all that “you are an awesome girl, he is a dick, you are right, that guy was stupid”. ENOUGH. In the situation that I find myself, in a program where of the 35 people, five of us are male, and two of us are bachelors. Of the two, I am the nice guy, and thus get the emotional duffle bags full of feces and tears dumped on me. The other guy is smart and works on the bang them or alienate them mantra.
You may wonder at this time why I use the term “bitch” so freely, as it is considered a derogative term in many cultures. I use it here as a technical term, and in the most endearing way. For there is an old saying that proves very true: “What is the difference between a bitch and a slut? A slut has sex with everyone; a bitch has sex with everyone but you.”
So thusly I luckily refused the surrogate boyfriend bait early on in my current endeavors, and hopefully will continue to avoid its annoying continuances.
------------------------------
Bitches Be Crazy
by Julie
Let me start off by saying, I love being female. I get free drinks out at clubs, I don't have to do too much heavy lifting, and when I cry I get comforted rather than insulted. It's pretty damned awesome. This is why most women piss me the hell off. We have it so good, so easy, and instead of asserting ourselves into places of power, we weaken our position by being emotional irrational beings. It truly saddens me to see this de-evolution of our sex.
Lets explore this more with the obvious subject: dating. Now traditionally, guy asks girl out on date, guy takes girl on said date, guy pays for date, girl decides whether or not she feels like putting out. It's not a bad system from our side, but things have changed over the years. Now it's girl puts out right away and tries to act all cool when the guy doesn't want to be in a relationship right away. Guy no longer needs to ask girl out, take girl out, or pay for taking a girl out. He's getting some by just making a move. And the girl, keeps going back for more. The guy has all the power. Girl gets too whinny, no worries, there's another chick who is more than happy to step up and get the place of Bottom Bitch.
One could get mad at guys for taking advantage of girls like this, but it's hard to when we make it so easy for them. There's no real reason for them to get in a serious relationship with us when we make that so unappealing. Being in a committed relationship to a guy means that he has to pay for everything: dinners out at nice restaurants, weekend trips to adorable B & B's up in wine country, those gorgeous earrings we saw in Macy's. Girls never foot the bill, unless it's a birthday or special occasion, and even then it's only setting the bar high for their own birthday. Guys must pay for all this or else girls don't put out. Relationships anymore are glorified prostitution. And forget about guys having any time to themselves. Girls will not leave them alone for even one night out with his friends because they think if they get a chance to realize they could be getting some for less elsewhere, they would. Is it any wonder so many chicks have to hound their guy into marriage? I know that's not something I'd want to jump right into.
So how can we change this horrible pattern? Well for starters ladies, don't put out right away. I know you might be great at it and your proud and want to show it off (I've been there myself), but anything good is worth waiting for, and any guy you want hanging around will know that too. Secondly, pick up the tab once and while. If you're constantly being paid for you're sending the message that you're a guys pet. He feeds you, takes care of you, he owns you and therefore you must obey him. Healthy relationships are about give and take and don't you want to feel more like partners? Finally, give the guy some space. Relationships grow stale and boring if you spend all your free time with each other. What is there to talk about that you both haven't already experienced? It gives him time to miss you, talk about you, and still have a sense of identity himself. This is healthy for you as well, cause if you make it your full time job to be so-and-so's girlfriend, that's all anyone will see you as.
------------------------------
Did Houdini Have A Vagina?
by Chaz
So I had written three rants prior to this and I was debating which to submit for the amazing 300th post of my best friend Q. I toiled and toiled about which was the most entertaining, the most rantish, the most worthy of being in such a momentous post as his 300th and then my phone made a noise.
I looked down to receive a text message from a ten digit number written in a friendly tone. I knew immediately it was someone that I’d dated in the past, but exactly who I didn’t know. In a nutshell it said, “I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately. Sorry I didn’t return your calls, how are you?” and I started to figure things out. Do I care who it was, not really. Do I know, yes.
And born was my rant!
Why the fuck do women think that they can come and go from our lives as they see fit. Sure, they can blame it on having stuff come up, being not ready, worrying about not being skinny enough or not pretty enough… and then six months later they assume they can just traverse back into our lives like no time has passed.
What do they think, that men just sit and wait around for them to come back after a first date sexual romp in a hotel room followed by two hours of road head and some back seat anal? Obviously given the fact that they’re willing to put out on the first date, regardless of their rationale, their morality comes into question. Hrm… why did I keep calling? Let’s see, because I knew I could have gotten laid if I saw you again! Was I emotionally attached? Ha, not hardly! Was I seeing the birds and the bees? Nope, I saw tits and ass and wanted a warm, wet spot to sink my sausage.
I told her it was nice to hear from her again, but things in my life had changed in the last six months and I wasn’t in the position I was in before. I told her I could offer her nothing more than fun conversation and a friend (knowing full well that this isn’t what she had in mind, but I’m not a total asshole…. Or am I?). Her next text sounded rather dejected and she was trying to push a potential lunch on me.
Here’s my big issue with this. Okay, you looked me back up because what you thought was a better deal got tired of putting his dick in you. You found my number locked away in your phone and remembered that I laid the pipe and you loved every minute of it… and wanted to go for another throw. Now, low and behold, you discover that I’m not on the market… so you try and weasel around things offering me a lunch to sit and catch up or asking me about how long I’ve been with my girlfriend and what kind of things we do together.
Frankly, it’s none of your concern. If you wanted to be more than just my dick puppet, you shouldn’t have spread your legs in a hotel room you paid for the day we met face to face. Your bad… I’m off the market now and any attempts you make to try and weasel back in for a gratification fuck here and there aren’t going to play out like you’d hoped for. That I promise you.
Now before I met my girlfriend, this wouldn’t have bothered me much because I flew by the seat of my pants and sexed up whoever and whenever. Now though, things have changed considerably and this almost offends me. It made me think back to all the times in the past when I’d gone out with a girl, had a good evening, took the ride to Pleasuretown, then never heard from her again by either her or my choosing. Then without fail, 2-6 months later I’d get a similar text to the one I got today and within a day or so I’d be back playing puppeteer before getting bored with them and tossing them to the wayside. I admit, I was just as bad as they were playing the game, it was about mutual pleasure afterall… but once you tell them that you’re involved with someone you’d think they’d have the common decency to just back off and disappear like they’d done once before.
Sorry sunshine, batting those eyes and smiling at me the day you did when I first met you, bought you a long island iced tea, then bent you over the hotel balcony isn’t going to get you back into a hotel room with me anymore… it’s just gonna make me angry, get you called a whore, and leave you staring at your cell phone wondering what the fuck just happened but certain you’re never gonna hear from me again. Just like Kaiser Soze, poof… I’m gone!
------------------------------
Rants from the Sandbox
by DrunkPilot
In about 5 hours I’ll be donning my tan colored flight suit, Oakleys and knock-off Louis Vuitton holster in preparation to bring the fight to the enemy. Another day, living the dream... We’ll fly to Iraq, or Afghanistan, maybe even both, moving troops and cargo within and between theatres. As I cruise over the rugged terrain of the Afghan mountains, I’ll look down in dismay realizing that we’ll probably never leave this country, at least not as victors. Don’t get me wrong, if anyone could win a war in this wasteland, it is the US. The problem is, as I survey the craggy peaks and barren deserts below, I stumble the realization that nobody can win a war here. The fight for Afghanistan (as it stands) can’t be won, not by the US, not by Karzai, not by the Taliban, nor Al Qaeda. The problem with Afghanistan is that it shouldn’t even be a single country. It’s a squiggly line drawn on a map. It’s a mix of ethnic groups that could only succeed in a modern country: the sort of country where a person’s ethnic background doesn’t necessarily dictate their political, social, religious, or economic goals. The Pakistanis to the south or the Iranians to the west would probably rather eat pork than have governorship of this place. I digress though. While the geopolitics of Afghanistan surely affect my day-to-day life, that’s not what I’m here to rant and rave about.
First the rants: Somebody who gets paid much more than I do has deemed that deployed military personnel at Al Udeid Air Base should be limited to three drinks per day. I realized that this would make drinking a waste of time, money, and brain cells. Why expend all three of thee precious commodities without any significant payoff, such as a buzz (I’m typically weighing in at somewhere between 200 and 235). Last night I decided to test my theory that three beers wouldn’t have a significant effect. Guess what? The data supported my hypothesis: three beers will not get a grown man drunk.
Starbucks, the corporate coffee rip off, has reached new heights of highway robbery out here in the AOR. Today, I ordered a Venti Toffe Nut Frappuccino, when I was at the “mall.” The third world national sweetly asked me if I wanted a caramel drizzle. "Fuck yeah, why wouldn’t I want a caramel drizzle?” I thought to myself. When I was presented with the bill, I realized why I didn’t want a caramel drizzle. The six-dollar and fifty cent price tag of the drink didn’t include the drizzle, which tacked on another $1.15. This put the price of the tasty beverage at more than twice my paltry per diem of $3.50.
Eye candy is severely lacking out here. A lot of people seem to think that the military employs a disproportionate amount of attractive women. In fact, it does! A disproportionately small percentage of attractive women. The hottest ones have a tendency of posing for Playboy, and summarily get kicked out of the armed forces. On a sunny day, while squinting to limit the piercing rays of the sun that seek to blind you, you might find your gaze settling on what appears to be an attractive woman. You widen your eyes, and 99% of the time are dismayed when your newfound clarity of vision reveals a far homelier sight than you anticipated. Worse yet are the rare moments when you realize she actually is pretty cute, only to notice moments later the stripes on her sleeve indicating that she’s enlisted. C’est la vie.
Now for the raves: deployment isn’t all bad. It’s sort of like boy scout camp that lasts a whole four months. The food’s free, for the most part, and actually not all that bad. On Wednesday’s the kitchen does an admirable job burning steaks, but the lobster they occasionally toss our way is surprisingly palatable for institutionalized food. I’m getting paid to fly, which is always nice, and I’m getting to do a lot of flying. My room, while a small 70 or so square feet is adequate space, and I have my PS3, laptop, and global cell phone at my disposal. We have Internet access here, (duh, how do you think you’re reading my words, they’re not scribbled on pieces of toilet paper) though the lack of bandwidth is akin to drinking out of a straw with a hole poked in the sidewall. I’m paying down my immense credit card bill with all the money I’m saving on things like rent, insurance, food, and beverage. All in all, it’s not so bad. And the negatives will make my return to civilization that much sweeter.
This is to celebrate Pat’s 300th blog post, which inspired me to start writing again for the first time in well over a year (and the past years have given me plenty to write about). Look for my triumphant return in the not-so-distant future, on a new blog: grittier, nastier, and more visceral than ever before.
------------------------------
My friends are pretty funny people! Thank you to all of you who chimed in with your rants for this epic blog post. If anyone else wants to rant, feel free to do so in the comments!
Guess that's it for me. Hope you enjoyed Post #300, and here's to 300 more posts of awesomeness!
1 comment:
Nice work all
JMB
Post a Comment