Coconut Bras and Mischief

Only one person can show up to a birthday party for seven people and have all eyes on him.

I don’t have to do much these days to get a reaction. Cheers, boos, applause, tomatoes. Yeah, any reaction is better than being permanently relegated to “Anthony’s sidekick”…although being in my shadow does mean you can catch a glimpse of the sun. For these reasons, I’m thinking of taking on a manager. Although I’m more than capable of handling my own promos, Alberto Del Rio has his own ring announcer. Another way to add to the snarkiness. I am the latter day rock star, mind you. I’ve come to restore the old days. Color, promise, and other fun stuff.

Recently in the news, Anthony still doesn’t have a girlfriend. All of his friends are taken. In other words, nothing’s changed. Well, nothing besides my aloofness becoming more socially acceptable. I’ve used some rather filthy lines and commentary when flirting lately, and well, it’s working. I couldn’t be any more blunt with my intentions, and my words are apparently worth their weight in gold. I want a girlfriend, but I’m starting to think my niche is being Barney Stinson reincarnated as a human being. Saw a video of his top ten lines. Vulgarity, lewdness, the works…but his delivery was beautiful. Much like my delivery. If I could be half as awesome as Neil Patrick Harris, I’d be up to my armpits in paternity scares.

To prove how awesome I could be, my club had a Hawaiian Night and I showed up in a coconut bra and a hula skirt. I was the most attractive guy there. Couldn’t make this shit up if I tried. I received more attention with my attire than I have for using moderately acceptable attention seeking behavior. I don’t know how many pictures I took. I don’t know how many girls wanted to dance with me but didn’t get the opportunity. I also don’t know why I felt absolutely no shame in dressing up without being drunk. But alas, my night wasn’t all rainbows. A friend was sad and I was obligated to cheer her up. For an hour and a half. Which means I missed most of the night where I could’ve easily gone home with someone. Oh yeah, not happy about that. But the thing about friendship is that friendship is very inconvenient. Sometimes, it costs you money so you can’t buy the pair of goofy pants until next week. Sometimes, it costs you grey hair because they lead ridiculously unstructured lives. Hell, it can even cockblock me. I meant, it can even cockblock you. I’ve been on the receiving end on all of those, and the question I usually have is “why haven’t I fired these bastards yet?” Unsurprisingly, I still don’t have an answer for that. I just know when duty calls collect, you accept the charges. Even if you might never look as beautiful in your coconut bra and hula skirt again. Especially when these conversations are outside at 1am and all you’re wearing…yes, you guessed it: nothing but those items. Jesus Tittyfucking Christ, I’m getting rich and buying friends (read: paid assistants who wear bombs in case they try to screw with me).

Chick-Fil-A recently had a controversy about gay marriage and all that jazz. I’ve long been a supporter for people to do as they please, as long as it doesn’t include doing animals or doing me (unless you’re female). I had an argument with a  hardcore Christian that tried to claim that outlawing gay marriage isn’t discrimination. After I repeatedly refuted all of her points, I walked away knowing that she’ll still believe what she believes. Two conclusions drawn: some people need to drink bleach, and if I was around centuries ago writing the Bible, well, I’d have ultimate power. People scare me sometimes when they don’t know their own stupidity is dangerous. But, this is why I love bad guys in all forms of art: the villains are the last ones to know they’re villains. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Kevin Rudolf “Don’t Give Up”

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