Sometimes I open up chat windows with people and don't type anything. I think about what I want to say. What I'd like to say to them. I try to figure it out before I start so that it will sound eloquent. Sophisticated. Charming. Classy. I don't like fumbling for words. It's graceless. And some people just know exactly how to tie up your tongue. With a nervous kind of energy. I sit and I think and then they sign off. Or I start talking and forget everything. It's silly.That is how things go, sometimes.
This is something I feel very strongly about. So strong are my emotions about it, in fact, that I have haphazardly drafted this singular post about it on the fly. I hope, for your sake, that you are seated as I deal with this incredibly important social issue and say controversial things--the likes of which give women the vapors. Shorts. I fucking hate shorts. I hate them because you can't look cool in them. Think about it. Have you ever seen an action hero save the world wearing shorts? No. Action heroes wear pants. Men wear pants. People who save the world wear pants. Pants, pants, pants. Nobody wears shorts excepts, like, stoners, lazy guys, and dudes. And bros. Those archetypes do not do adventurous things. Indiana Jones? Pants. Robocop? Pants. Flapjack? Pants. Bear Grylls? Pants. Australian stereotypes? Shorts. Australia really likes to try to censor their internet content. That doesn't sound so awesome and/or manly to me. To prove my conclusion that shorts a
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