Desperate Last Thoughts

I write to you trapped in a building, while hundreds - possibly thousands - of adoring women try to fight their way in. This is a genuine problem I face, but as of recently it has started becoming a daily problem. How am I supposed to function with so many people trying to get on this? I can't help that God made me with every ounce of perfect he had left.

Ok. That wasn't my point. My point is going to be that chivalry will be dead in a matter of moments and women killed it. There are few of us out there, scant few, who would generally try and be a white knight. But we're finding gainful employment an impossibility at the moment. It's an industry that relies heavy on tips and word of mouth. I try to be nice when it comes down to it, (Just not around you guys. You've already accepted me, I don't have to impress you. That's why I'll never act like that in front of you) so why doesn't it work? Oh, that's right. MTV ruined my generation and the self obsessed women that emerged from the commercial ooze suck.

I once did an experiment in college and held the door open for one hundred girls. Five of them said thank you. Oh, I'm sorry. What's that whiney female? Fluke you say? Ok. I did it again recently. Busted. You are so busted! Your gender totally sucks donkey ass through a flexy straw. It's not just random, even my female friends don't say thank you.

So what I'm going to do is recant a proclamation that I made where I create a division of women at Elon, saying that they were either whorish or crazy. I apologize. That was way off base. What I institute is that they're just manipulative. That's it. Manipulative. One word. One category.

Oh, I'm not angry while I'm writing this. In fact, the opposite. It's just that you ladies need to be aware of these little ticks you have. You can't be crawling over the last one to get to the next. It doesn't work that way. Maybe in Sluttville, PA it does, but not here.

Which brings me to another behavior. When the H-E-L-L did it become acceptable to answer a phone call in the middle of something important? If I'm telling you that your parents are dying of cancer and you flip your cell phone open to talk to Flounder down at the frat house, I'm going to take the phone from you and use it to call the Ghostbusters. Why? Because there must be something crazy going on here!

Oh, women of Elon. You wonder why I enjoy being single. *cough*

Ok. They don't wonder. But whatever. I rock.

Reminder to class: Say thank you and pay attention to who you are talking to. We're not all just marks along your drunken bar crawl for you to pass time with and look like you know.