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Shallow, Simple Bitches Do Not Get The Good Loving
2007-11-20 - 5:49 p.m.


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And the girls at the bizarre hick-bar way-out-in-the-middle-of-nowhere scoffed at me when I got a glass of wine at the bar.

Asking for wine totally flummoxed the bartender.  I've run into this into my decidedly small-town part of the universe:  whenever I order wine, I have to take shit, for some reason.

One bartender even asked me one time at another bar, "Are you serious?"

Not this time, though.  He had trouble figuring it out.  Then he wouldn't give me a wine-glass.

Luckily, the barmaid/server Lindsay saw me and was willing to get me a wine-glass.

But three to four times I was scoffed at because I drank wine.  Maybe five, counting the piss drunk mother that slurred at me, "That's very cultured of you."

Right when I ordered it, a bunch of rejects with high-eighties-hair made derisive raspberry noises at me when I ordered wine.  And another clutch when I sat down.  The clutch of slutty-dancing girls who tended to dominate their corner of the dance floor like it was some slut-competition.  Their leader had butter face and limitless energy.  She led the scoffing.

And another group on the main floor made noises of dissent.  Luckily I've mellowed over the years, or I would have taken it head on.

"YES,  I'M DRINKING WINE.  SORRY I DON'T HAVE A MULLET.  FUCKIN' SUE ME."

or the ever popular stand-by:

"FUCK YOUUUUUUU."

So, yeah, thanks douche-bags.  Its WINE.  It doesn't mean I'm gay, effete, or think I'm better than you.

It doesn't mean I think I'm all fancy-pants with all of that 'book learnin'.

It doesn't mean I'm less of a man.  It means I like wine.  Nothing more, you shallow, shallow assholes.

And ladies?  A personal note here:  If you want an overweight, hairy, meat-handed guy to clamber on top of you, pound you roughly for 30 seconds before squeezing a few weak sperm into your cavities, rolling off and apologizing profusely before falling asleep, I AM NOT YOUR MAN.

If you want a guy that will worship your pussy, who will take you to heights of excastsy, who will actually go down and treat you with the passion you deserve,  who will do all those twisted, dirty things that you know you like, then fuck the creative guys.  Guys like me. Don't fuck the businessman.  Don't fuck the mechanics and the tool-and-die workers just because they have a steady job.

Fuck creative people.

And don't sneer at us when we drink wine in a crowded bar, ok?

There is more to life than the 30-second jackhammer.

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