It seems that most people, when recognized, want BRAINS and BRAWN, or BRAINS and BOOBS. Smart people want to look good, and people that look good want to be recognized for their cerebral qualities. Beauty, the "it" factor, call it what you want, but many, many of us out there strive for LOOKS and LEARNS. Today, as I tripped on the carpet over one of the many "speed bumps" installed for my ego and my ego alone, I wondered what the hell this was for. How come nobody wants to be DRUNK AND STUPID? I mean, we've got plenty of drunk and we've got plenty of stupid, but why not both? I, for one, have worked hard to strive to that qualification. In fact, I've got a hypothetical situation for you.
Once upon a time, there was a girl. Ummm, ME. Because I can't think of anything that rhymes with "Alex" or "TCWH". And she was dating this guy. He was kind of an asshole, but she was attracted to those at the time because she didn't know any better. She was YOUNG AND STUPID (to read this properly, the emphasis must be placed on the 'and' - no big boring monotones through here, people! Bueller? Bueller?) . Now the boy, he was kind of goofy looking. He always walked pitched forward, on his tiptoes - maybe it offset his bowl legged ness. This girl doesn't know, nor is she making fun, she liked him, after all. He had a short face with a big smile that crinkled his eyes when he wasn't too busy making fun of her or trying to be "hard". His name was Dave, and he said he knew a guy that she knew "Joe Bella" from New York - who was a drug dealer, because having a friend who dabbles in illegal substances is always a great segway to a lasting romance.
On one Friday that they were downtown, Dave chose not to ignore her, because she was wearing some small clothes and turned a couple heads. Man JEALOUS. Claim PROPERTY. The girl recalls that it was the only time he put his arm around her and kissed her in public. But she was good for beer runs, she knew that. The girl, she was so happy, she drank more drinks than she should have, because she thought when she went home that it would be a *special night*.
She was so happy she passed out in Dave's bed wearing a pair of her red sorority shirts, and the top half of her birthday suit. The girl, she wishes she could say THE END here, but it is not. Sadly, she was TOP AND LESS with a penchant for sleepwalking.
Several hours later, she was awoken by an irritated, "TCWH! Get up! You're in the wrong bed!" To which she mumbled sleepily, "I'm fine." "TCWH! You're IN THE WRONG BED!" to which she groaned "I'm FINE!" After a couple minutes of this, she realized that asshole roomate, Jay, who happened to be a local Adonis, was yelling at her that she was NOT in the right bed, that SHE DID NOT have a shirt on, and that she was NOT FINE.
The girl, she was embarrassed. The Dave, he was angry. Adonis told him that the girl wanted him. Sleepwalking was not enough to stroke his behemoth ego. TCWH's FRIENDS? All laughed. Because it was so much funnier than when she sleptwalked into her roomated Bill's room when he was naked and asked him if he wanted a lollipop before walking out. So the Dave? He got another girl pregnant. And married her.
Thus begins my DRUNK AND STUPID Chronicles. Something for me to reflect on while I abstain. The moral of this story is...y'all are authors. You pick.