Disclaimer: I am an unfortunate victim of Angas Boys Anonymous. I have a slight weakness for sullen, rude and alpha-male types. Do not, therefore, tell me that the following observation was wrought from a judgmental and biased point of view.
Boys are so easy to please. At the car show, they turned into brainless, spineless bacchanals at the sight of bikini-clad girls. Everywhere you turned, there were butts and breasts – sitting atop humongous speakers, signing autographs, twisting and turning pieces of flesh. They were like tar, what with their intentionally dark glances and the slow pouring of their bodies around the cars, on top, astride and all around them. You could practically hear the men’s loins convulsing in sync with the revving engines and the booming speakers.
It was horrible. I felt like I was covered in thick, gooey testosterone. Girls never want to see their boyfriends (or boy friends, for that matter) turn into panting dogs. The last thing girls want to feel towards their significant others is pity. Don’t get me wrong. The girls were definitely hot and I am neither jealous nor insecure. It’s just that it was such a perfect showcase for male delusion. I admire men with interests but I didn’t know that cars and women were so fundamental they’re instincts!
I am very thankful that Ana was with me because then I had someone to dance barefoot on newspapers with, not to mention hooting at oblivious men. Also, I had someone to look gleefully at when all the import models went into the bathroom to change. The men missed a LOT: squeezing breasts into tasseled bikinis and golden legs into silver space boots. The sight was SO entirely wasted on us. It was fascinating but nope, no hard-ons for us.
Then I have to watch all these wonderful films on tv with all these wonderful angas guys that turn into mush and reject all boobs and butts and I'm saying, "Where the fuck are they?"
Someday, there will be a room with Pharell, Johnny Depp, Jude Law, all the king's horses and all the cute men with unparalleled wit and intelligence, unlimited Reese's Peanut Butter cups, a mountain range of Mint and chocolate chip ice cream, pre-selected books, music, great clothes, shoes, the beach, sunshine and banigs.
And then all the girls can say "Ha ha."
Boys are so easy to please. At the car show, they turned into brainless, spineless bacchanals at the sight of bikini-clad girls. Everywhere you turned, there were butts and breasts – sitting atop humongous speakers, signing autographs, twisting and turning pieces of flesh. They were like tar, what with their intentionally dark glances and the slow pouring of their bodies around the cars, on top, astride and all around them. You could practically hear the men’s loins convulsing in sync with the revving engines and the booming speakers.
It was horrible. I felt like I was covered in thick, gooey testosterone. Girls never want to see their boyfriends (or boy friends, for that matter) turn into panting dogs. The last thing girls want to feel towards their significant others is pity. Don’t get me wrong. The girls were definitely hot and I am neither jealous nor insecure. It’s just that it was such a perfect showcase for male delusion. I admire men with interests but I didn’t know that cars and women were so fundamental they’re instincts!
I am very thankful that Ana was with me because then I had someone to dance barefoot on newspapers with, not to mention hooting at oblivious men. Also, I had someone to look gleefully at when all the import models went into the bathroom to change. The men missed a LOT: squeezing breasts into tasseled bikinis and golden legs into silver space boots. The sight was SO entirely wasted on us. It was fascinating but nope, no hard-ons for us.
Then I have to watch all these wonderful films on tv with all these wonderful angas guys that turn into mush and reject all boobs and butts and I'm saying, "Where the fuck are they?"
Someday, there will be a room with Pharell, Johnny Depp, Jude Law, all the king's horses and all the cute men with unparalleled wit and intelligence, unlimited Reese's Peanut Butter cups, a mountain range of Mint and chocolate chip ice cream, pre-selected books, music, great clothes, shoes, the beach, sunshine and banigs.
And then all the girls can say "Ha ha."
7 comments:
don't forget make up and spa sessions....
count me in to the girls' party
makeup! yeah. we will be living in sephora wonderland!!
Don't speak to soon.
You guys have something like that too. It's called Cosmo Night.
Don't get me started on Foucault and the feminist movement.
Horsepower per tonne is as harmonious to the male ear as sylvia plath's poetry is to the female's
As for the import girls, think of what Orlando Bloom would look like if he were dressed up by the Fab 5.
By the way, which car show was that?
Hehe
Ins: Hot Import Nights. You can look at pictures in Lovine's domain: http://www.lovine.com/pics/hotimportnights
I love your new template!
toni: thanks! time for spring!
tangina mika i so get this. although fortunately there ARE angas men who are pure mush inside, my work tells me that there are MORE men who are like panting dogs in that car show you attended. just imagine what it's like in our 100 Sexiest party every year!
sure, there's a Cosmo Bachelor Bash, but in the words one of Cosmo's editors, "the difference is women giggle and get kilig when they see shirtless boys in the Cosmo bash, whereas men in the FHM 100 Sexiest party get hard-ons at the mere sight of a woman modeling swimwear."
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