I'm No VanDerSloot
Watched a truly disturbing report last night about the women who are chasing that VanDerSloot Monster around. It seems that since he's been arrested for the murder of that girl in Peru, he's been receiving 50 letters a day ranging from women who want to get to know him better, to women who are proposing marriage.
Now to hear me tell it, I was always something of a ladies man myself. I often tell Kathy and the boys that: Chicks dig me because I very rarely wear underwear and when I do it is something usually erotic.
Of course I stole the line from a college roommate who remembered it from the movie Stripes, but I use it to make a point that I was a well-sought after man.
Of course, it's a lie. I made the whole thing up. I was a very pathetic dater who was not so vigourously pursued by anyone. If Kathy hadn't of seen something very few others did, I'd be the Nicholson character from As Good As It Gets about now.
But I fail to understand the women mailing their underwear to VanDerSloot. The man murdered one woman definitely, and most likely his body count is at least two. Women. Murdered. Sexually assaulted. Dead.
And these women want him?
I couldn't even get a girl to do the slow skate with me at the roller rink. (Of course, I was wearing my cousin Carol's hand-me-down skates, but I can't blame it all on that).
What is it with the girls who like the bad guy routine? I saw it plenty in high school where the girls ignored my sweetly written notes and sucked face with the burned out druggie behind the school library.
I see it every now and then when a beautiful girl shakes her hair out of a motorcycle helmet getting off a bike driven by one of the members of Hell's Angels.
Why wasn't I ever the tough guy? How come I could never pull off the bad boy image?
"Girls think he's cute," I said to Kathy as we watched the coverage of VanDerSloot.
"Do you?"
"I'd like to strangle him," Kathy said.
See? My wife has her sensibilities. Perhaps I did okay with my aw-shucks-women are to be treated like princesses-very rarely wear underwear-image.
I do know one thing for sure. My future romance will be far better than the one that VanDerSloot is able to conjure up in prison for the rest of his life.
I just knew that my cousin Carol's long, white, very girlie looking skates would pay off.
Now to hear me tell it, I was always something of a ladies man myself. I often tell Kathy and the boys that: Chicks dig me because I very rarely wear underwear and when I do it is something usually erotic.
Of course I stole the line from a college roommate who remembered it from the movie Stripes, but I use it to make a point that I was a well-sought after man.
Of course, it's a lie. I made the whole thing up. I was a very pathetic dater who was not so vigourously pursued by anyone. If Kathy hadn't of seen something very few others did, I'd be the Nicholson character from As Good As It Gets about now.
But I fail to understand the women mailing their underwear to VanDerSloot. The man murdered one woman definitely, and most likely his body count is at least two. Women. Murdered. Sexually assaulted. Dead.
And these women want him?
I couldn't even get a girl to do the slow skate with me at the roller rink. (Of course, I was wearing my cousin Carol's hand-me-down skates, but I can't blame it all on that).
What is it with the girls who like the bad guy routine? I saw it plenty in high school where the girls ignored my sweetly written notes and sucked face with the burned out druggie behind the school library.
I see it every now and then when a beautiful girl shakes her hair out of a motorcycle helmet getting off a bike driven by one of the members of Hell's Angels.
Why wasn't I ever the tough guy? How come I could never pull off the bad boy image?
"Girls think he's cute," I said to Kathy as we watched the coverage of VanDerSloot.
"Do you?"
"I'd like to strangle him," Kathy said.
See? My wife has her sensibilities. Perhaps I did okay with my aw-shucks-women are to be treated like princesses-very rarely wear underwear-image.
I do know one thing for sure. My future romance will be far better than the one that VanDerSloot is able to conjure up in prison for the rest of his life.
I just knew that my cousin Carol's long, white, very girlie looking skates would pay off.
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