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- Wanna submit something?
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Pretty
Girls Do It Too
Whether you understand/agree or not, that’s not important for what I’m about to tell you. All that matters is that you know the type of female I’m talking about. A ten, a dime, Halle Berry sunbathing in Swordfish… Melissa Ford fresh out of the MAC store; flawless, if even for a second. When heterosexual men see women like this the first thing they think about is sex. I didn’t have time to take a survey to confirm this, but I’m pretty sure if I did most of the popular answers would be; “I sure wish I knew what kind of fuck faces she makes,” “How good is her leverage on a daybed,” and “I wonder if she thinks it's ok to call her out of her name and pull her hair right off the bat.” Be offended if you must, but I promise you sex is the first, second and fifth thing a man thinks about when he sees any woman much less a stunner. Those aren’t the first things I think of when I see a gorgeous woman, though… Well, maybe the last one, but I’ve got a bit more tact and restraint than your average gutter brain. Truthfully, when dimeage crosses my path I wonder if she farts or not. I’m not being funny here. I’ve been wanting to know this for years. It goes back to a friend of mine who was going out with this girl. Shorty looked good. She wasn’t a dime, but she wasn’t a rusty penny either. Let’s call her a nickel and change. Well, N&C and my boy were going through that transition period where she spent a lot of time at his crib to kind of mark her territory and get that weekday morning sex in. So, I’m talking to dude about his time with N&C and he’s like, “Everything is fine except she hasn’t passed gas in front of me yet.” At this point I’m looking at this guy sideways almost scared to cast the expected “Why,” which is dangling on my hook of a tongue. I just hoped this wasn’t a segue to his filthy sexual preferences. I can handle trying or at least hearing about a lot of things, but this sounded like it was going in a direction that I just wouldn’t enjoy. Remember you’re talking about a guy who has deleted that Biggie interlude from Ready to Die on his iTunes library. So, I reluctantly ask why and dude is astonished. “You don’t find it strange that you have somebody basically live with you for a month and they never fart? Chinese, Mexican, a spicy beef patty from a downtown vendor and not even one ease-out? Like 30 days, this shit is freaking me out!” …Yeah, I know, but after I digested it (sorry), he was right. It is weird and ever since then I’ve tried to monitor the gas ratio with the women I’ve kept company with. While doing so, I concluded that pretty girls just don’t do it. They don’t fart. Now, I’ll be the first to tell you every female that I’ve hung out with hasn’t been a dime, but I’ve had a 9 or 8 around me and there is one distinct difference between them and the 7’s… 6’s (please, like you haven’t), those 6’s & 7’s keep it real for a lack of better terms. The 9’s and 8’s gave me nothing. Before this gets any more weird, let me just say that I don’t like nor condone women farting in front of me. It’s disgusting, rude and I’d break out a stinky joke in a heartbeat, but I understand that sometimes you can’t help it. I’m logical, even if cruel afterwards. Anyway, I was all but ready to lock this away in Al Capone’s vault as another unsolved mystery until the other day when I was taking my lunchtime walk downtown. I usually take half of my stroll in the business district to see the sites then take it residential to clear my head and gather my thoughts. On my way back to the office I’m walking, lost in the beautiful spring day, when I notice a jaw dropping caramel delectable walking down the adjacent block. I scanned her thrice. The skin on her face was glistening and matching her slightly exposed stomach. Her jeans were fitting and the walk was meaner than KFC’s greens in ’84. I speed my walk up just so I can cross paths with her. As I’m nearing her, I see her hair bouncing and I start thinking about one of those earlier men thoughts when she notices me, turns beet red and picks up her pace, double time. As she’s galloping away I’m thinking, “Hey, I thought I was having a good day. Three days off a crisp shape-up, fresh Monday outfit, that Issey-M is nice and settled,” when it starts not smelling so much like that Issey-M. As a matter of fact it smells like… gas? [/Eddie Murphy] Ahh-hakhhhh, Ahh-hakhhhh [/Eddie Murphy]. Got one. After all this time of wondering if beautiful women passed gas, I finally found out they do. How fucking dumb was I to think they didn’t? Can’t you die if you don’t or something? Anyway, I feel like such a moron. I mean it’s always been right there, repeatedly crossing my path all this time. Pretty women don’t fart in front of you. They take walks and do it. That way they keep their metabolism up, stay toned while farting their friggin hearts out anytime you’re not around. I feel relieved. *sigh* |
FIYA NBA Ranks: #9 |
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Have
you ever seen a young lady that was so bad you got a hot flash
for a good second and a half? I don’t know what menopause
feels like, but I imagine those flashes are like having the opposite
of a cold chill run through your body. That’s what I’m
talking about. I have them occasionally when a bad ass broad creeps
under my radar. Not corny like, “I saw her in all her
grace from across the room and my heart began to yearn for her,”
but *thinking to myself* “OK, now for lunch, what sides
should I get to go with that piece of rotisserie chicken…
I get two,” when you notice a fine as all get out chick
is within five steps of you and you’re like “Goddamn,
she look good! That scared me.” It doesn’t happen
often, to me anyway, but when it does, I get scared. Yeah, well
call me what you want, but I need to be prepared for shit like
that. All
