My roommate and I want on a writing rant and this is the product. We are considering trying to get it published in the school's literary magazine. The bolded part is mine and the regular font is the roomie's "Chill" I would seriously like to know who it was that made people so fucking up tight about fucking everything. Fuck. It’s like some pre-Paleolithic Period egg incident when somebody tripped over the raptor nest accidentally, randomly and then the giant soulless dinosaur mother ripped their spleen out and ate it and saved it in a regurgitated state to be fed to the baby later on when the [now] spleen-less person didn’t do anything in the first place and that crazy bitch should have just left things alone since tripping over an egg is almost as egregious as baptizing a stoner in bong water. Sudden landscaping love is an office supernova. “Chill.” It’s something that I live by. Whenever somebody over thinks something even a little I tell them to “chill” mostly because, based on the way I live, if you are too wound up to be understood, it can’t hurt to get some coffee and calm down. But mostly I just like to piss off loose women. “Hello, my name is Guillermo, I would be glad to pay for that woman’s excuse for an alcoholic beverage for you.” “No thanks, I [might but probably don’t] have a boyfriend.” She of course doesn’t have a boyfriend… and I wonder why that is…oh yes let it come, let it come…because she’s too preoccupied with making guys be “original and interesting” before letting them buy her drinks. The truth that makes me want to scream “fuck suffrage” in a movie theatre is that she: 1) Will never have a truly meaningful connection with a guy since she won’t even let a stranger pay for her Sangria, meaning she would rather be pleased in a completely asexual and unromantic way by a fruity buzz than spend four seconds with someone she could spend the rest of her life with, or never touch again (except for the only two people remaining post rapture scenario) depending on her choice. Or 2) Is too preoccupied with all that female shit that in the long run doesn’t even matter: things like love (see above) maternity and kitchen paint color. Likewise, there are three things that this guy is potentially and hypothetically doing or thinking: 1) He is a wandering philanthropist buying food and drink for an adoring public only to return later to his house on wheels built solely of a solid-form, previously unknown natural element from which he chips off and sells bits to NASA as to maintain his fortune. 2) He is genuinely interested in the girl. It is not even a sexual attraction yet he feels compelled to pay for her regardless of the high probability of rejection. Or 3) He realizes that the bitch is crazy and is only offering to pay on the off chance that they will strike up a clichéd but lust charged conversation and she takes her morning bagel in bed with cream cheese but alas there is no bagel. What most white people don’t know is that Babyface can do it. The strangest thing besides pop music is respect. I have lost respect for some of the most influential and powerful people I’ve ever met, and on the flip side, gained more respect for farm animals than I have for certain unnamed James Cappo clients. I think it’s time that we dealt with some shit in today’s world. Maybe this is just some sort of droning rant about shit that pisses me off, maybe one of you will drop a massive amount of some mind altering substance and this will make sense, or perhaps I’m just deluding myself into thinking that any of us makes any real difference at all in the big picture. I just gotta lay this out: What the hell is wrong with “modern artists”? Some college drop out was sitting around one day, dropping a positively parliamentarian amount of acid and said, “If I smear my own feces against a canvas, it could be ART!” This isn’t really what amazes me though … what amazes me is the fact that so many people think it is art. Then, to top it ALL off, these up-tight, nose-in-the-air, wine-bottle-up-the-ass, beret-wearing, art critics can tell me I’m the unenlightened one because I don’t appreciate the medium the artist is using or the subtle interpretation of the artist’s feelings. A hundred years ago if someone smeared shit on a wall and started screaming that he needed a Federal Art Grant they would throw his ass in the loony bin! Rape is no laughing matter. Unless of course it’s a clown being raped, then the situational irony is so absolutely overpowering that a giggle might be in order before lending a hand, calling the cops, or intervening in some manner. It’s legal in Washington State to have sex with animals. Yes, Washington, where the Seahawks will never win a National Championship, it rains nonstop in the capital, and men die from having a horse penis rupture their internal organs. (Seriously, I’m not even making that up.) I mean I’m all up for spicing up your sex life … but …. A HORSE?!?! A camera is little more than an optical Weapon of Mass Distortion. I opened the door for a young woman over the summer and got yelled at for being a complete chauvinist. Jesus miss, who defecated in your Chocolate Cereal this morning? Seriously … women, what the hell? All you do is moan about how you want this guy that understands and cares about you. And then you get pissy when a guy does something that puts you out of your comfort zone, even if he does care about you.