As originally written on March 6, 2011: Yeah it is questionable that this will ever get posted. It is my birthday. I am drink. Duke sucked. It is approxximately 3:04am, and I am rocking out to some “Headfirst Slide into Cooperstown” by Fall Out Boy and pouting. Duke lost and now I cannot read the internet for a good three days. Thankks. So this latest edition of 10 Things Chicks Do Not Dig goes out to: my arch nemesis, the useless Mason Plumlee; magic, also known as the Disappearing Singler Act; and the entire city of Chapel Fuckign Hill. I am typing with one hand right now so I can give you all the middle finger with my other. Here are 10 more things that we do not dig:
- Losing rivalry games on our birthdays. WE HATE THAT. Trsut me. Like it makes us, drunk at 4am when writing this post, want to throw things through our 18th floor window.
[Editor’s note: it is now 8:40 p.m. on March 7, 2011 and our writing team is no longer intoxicated and/or infuriated. We are celebrating our 24-hours of sobriety with a bottle of wine].
- Text messages sent purely for the purpose of gloating. Yes, this ties into #1. I get it, Carolina fans, you guys won. I saw the game. I clearly drank my face off, as evidenced above. But like? Know when to quit. I am all about talking smack before a game, even during a game. But I mean, the final score speaks for itself. And after my team wins, as my teams often do, I will not rub it in your face. I will just gloat silently, which I think is so much more obnoxious and effective anyway. I would appreciate if you would do the same, especially after my heart was just broken on national television. All we ask is for a little sensitivity, thanks.
- When you walk out and throw a temper tantrum. Like the Pistons. Listen, it is not cool to throw in the towel and just stand us up without even a phone call. Or, worse, to use a lame excuse, like “I have a headache,” as Tracy McGrady did. We are smarter than that. If you don’t want to play with us anymore, that is totally fine. There are many other jocks who would like to ride our benches, with or without guaranteed playing time. If you know what I mean.
- When you think that you are honorable for protecting our virtue and refusing to play with us because we are girls. We can protect our own damn virtue, thank you very much. Especially when our common goal is to kick the crap out of each other, like in the case of Joel Northrup. Do not pussy out, throw some smoke and mirrors, and then claim to be a gentleman. If you are afraid to compete with us, stay off of our wrestling mats and out of our beds. And, for the record, we are kind of insulted by any dude who does not jump at the opportunity to pin us to the ground when we ask for it.
- When you call all kinds of attention to yourself by bragging how awesome you are, throwing parties, declaring victory before you even step foot on the court; but then, when it becomes clear that you may have exaggerated a bit, you become all whiny and pissy and deflect blame. Like Dwyane Wade and his Miami Heat. D.Wade said that “the world is better now” that Miami is sucking ass – meaning, everyone is reveling in their failure. And you know what? He is right. But we would not be enjoying this as much if they did not act like such raging douchebags before the season started. Wouldn’t you rather blow our minds and impress the hell out of us instead of building up expectations so high that you will inevitably disappoint? Do us a favor next time: before you assume that you are so much better than us, test out your little theory first. It will make you look like so much less of an asshole later on. Everyone wins.
- When you wake us up on an airplane by fondling our breasts and then tell us that you “need some sex.” Um, especially if you are a stranger. If, for whatever unfortunate reason an incident like this should occur, do not subsequently respond by trying to karate chop whoever comes to our rescue.
- Men who love Hitler. Especially men who are so stupid that they admit their love for Hitler in public. Being dumb is one thing, being a Nazi lover is another – but being both? FAIL. Anti-Semitism is not sexy.
- Charlie Sheen’s antics. I get it. The stuff he is saying is SO ridiculous and crazy that it is hard not to laugh. He is a walking, breathing reality television show. He lives with porn stars, a briefcase full of cocaine, and gets paid millions of dollars not to work. He thanked the “makers of Tiger Blood” for sponsoring his webcast. His dad is President Josiah Bartlet (only the greatest president in the history of the United States). Who wouldn’t want to be Charlie Sheen, right? See, the correct answer to that question is “everyone.” When you make Denise Richards and Brooke Mueller look like good parents, there are issues. And when you call your boss a troll, you probably deserve to be fired. I love “winning,” but I do not need it tattooed on my body.
- That Hermione Granger dropped out of college to support Harry Potter. Sigh, even in 2011, it seems that women are still giving up their own dreams to be the brains behind some dude whose talent pales in comparison. I don’t care that he is the Chosen One; he would have died at least eleven times without Hermione.
- If you need to obtain a beard exception for medical reasons, please don’t call us. I am not even sure what medical issues would require a beard, but I don’t want to know. Facial hair is really not my thing to begin with, but I could never ever sleep with anyone who would go to such lengths for their goatee. Seriously, don’t call. Save yourself the rollover minute.