Scarf this down!

In general, I try not to be judgemental, but today, at the park with my kids, I can’t help but share the two conclusive generalizations I’ve come to. I feel fairly confident in their accuracy.

Generalization #1- If you live in California, and you have a penis, and it isn’t January or February, and you have a scarf around your neck, then you’re a douchebag. If you have short sleeves on with your scarf, then you’re a douche and a moron.

The degree of your douchiness is in direct correlation to how many scarves you’re wearing at once… Listen fellas, you’re not Jack Keroac. You’re not a beatnik. You’re a lame millennial hipster with nothing interesting to say so you tightly wrap your insecurities up in all those colorful scarves, hoping to fool the rest of us into thinking your cool and interesting. Turn off My Chemical Romance, take the earbuds out of your ears, stop whining, put down that book you’re pretending to read (we can all see it’s upside down), take off your 17 scarves, and let the sun rain down on you. It’s beautiful outside today and your whiny “emo” attitude is depressing me. 

2-All women are at least a little bit crazy and the degree of their craziness is in direct proportion to the length of their fingernails. 

Ladies, I love you, and I love the sacrifices you make for us guys to keep yourself all tight and pretty. I know that it must be a major pain in the ass to be a lady and go through all the things you have to endure to be considered “lady-like” in today’s society. You have to shave your legs (and these days you’ve got to take it one step further), do your hair, put on make-up, and dress all cute-sy. We love that you take care of yourself and keep your shit tight. I don’t know how you do it. I mean, I haven’t washed my hair with any product since the 90s. If my likelihood of mating depended on my grooming habits, I’d die a lonely and childless man. That said, as much as we love when you paint your little toenails and fingernails, and as cute and creative as you all can get with that stuff, you’ve got to trim those naughty girls every once in a while. When a man meets a woman, two questions immediately enter his head, “what are the chances of my seeing her naked?” And- “How much insane bull-shit will I have to endure if mission one is accomplished?” If you grow your fingernails more than a centimeter beyond the yolk, then we know we are treading in dangerous territory because the crazy is almost always in direct proportion to the length of those nails. And if you’re one of those gals with the two inch-long daggers that you paint in ten different colors, spending half your day glueing rhinestones and pearls and other shit on them, then you’re going to hear a lot of this, “Wow, those are incredible.” But on the inside we’re thinking this, “Run away from that Wolverine bitch! She’s crazy and dangerous!”

And so, as a man who prides himself in being accepting of everyone, I apologize for these judgements. I just trying to help some of you to assimilate by telling you what your friends won’t. Besides, these generalizations aren’t always true… just most of the time.

Lastly, your IQ is inversely correlated to how many inches of your underwear I can see above the waistline of your pants.

Okay, I’m done judging now. I’m going to go hug an emo dude and a crazy bitch and tell them both I love them.

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