I Need a Hot Girl.

Sometimes I get to thinking, and sometimes that gets me into trouble. Notice I said sometimes. Because most of the time I do not think, and most of the times that I do ACTUALLY think, it does not get me into trouble. Therefore the coefficient for trouble from thinking is somewhat similar to .49 X .49 which = 24% at best. However unrealistic that number is, I guess by the use of my words it is possible to be occurred as such. Does that actually matter? Fuckin’ A Right! You’re so smart! How do you do it? You don’t have to answer that question, I don’t really actually care, I was just doing it to be polite and make you feel like you’re opinion matters, when we all know that only my opinion and that of Some Random Giraffe are the only two opinions on the Earth that matter. Anyhow, sitting in traffic this morning, “rush hour” traffic, if you will, I noticed something. Well, I noticed something that I had subconsciously noticed before but had never came to the forefront of my conscious brain power-ness until this morning. Maybe it was more of noticing something that I haven’t noticed, so I anti-noticed something(?). Looking at all of the cars, and the people driving those cars, I noticed that there are absolutely ZERO good-looking girls driving to work in the morning. NONE! What the fuck?! Do they not have to work because they are so attractive? Do they just not go in so early because they need extra beauty sleep? What exactly is going on here? Looking around at all of the cars, being bored as hell, I noticed that I have not once noticed a super-fine, oh-so-sexy, what-I-wouldn’t-do-to-her type of girl ever in my morning commute. Sitting in traffic in the morning, you would think you would see at least one. One?! Not a single one! Maybe there’s a road that exists that only beautiful women are allowed to drive on. Maybe we should employ sexy females to drive during rush hour traffic, to make the drive more pleasant. Which I then thought about and realized that there were pros and cons to this. Pros: Stare at hot chics, make eye contact, get a boner and not have the embarrassment of other people, except maybe a trucker, seeing it. Cons: Get a stiffy and have a trucker hit on you, stare at a hot chick and crash, get laughed at by hot chics, not see boobies., and get your hopes up for nothing.

Beautiful women don’t work. Don’t get me wrong; they do have jobs, but like as models and porn stars and such of the sort. And yes, they are really good at being bartenders, I guess, because who doesn’t want gymongous jugs staring at your eyes when you are ordering a drink (and drinking heavily), although they can really only be trusted to make girly drinks and open bottles of beer, we can’t ask too much of them, it’s still fine by me. But, you know what, good for them for being so attractive. Actually, another job they’re great at, receptionist and tanning salon employee. Oh, I’m sorry you pretentious prick of a douche licker, did I just name two things after saying “another”? Maybe they’re basically one in the same, and I wanted to elaborate. Maybe, just maybe you'll go out back and rub their sick crotch; he'll stick his hands down your pants. Meanwhile, your boyfriend's sittin' at home jerkin off to fuckin' gay porn. What, oh, Haggard, right, funny where your mind wanders when you say something silly like “Maybe, just maybe”. My mind is a big jumble of movie quotes and much other irrelevant bullshit that doesn’t matter to much more than this god awfully forsaken blog written about, well, what the fuck is it ever written about? Stupidity. Wait, awesomeness. Pure, unadulterated awe-inspiring, prodigiosity.

Giving up that extra cupcake in third grade, and leading to their proper eating behaviors, they probably deserve to not work. Wait, that’s not how it happened. The cutest girls in grade school are usually the ones that turn out to be all full of STDs and fatness come 5th grade. FIFTH GRADE?! Eh, probably by now. It was probably more like the loserly athletic/fit girl that wasn’t cool enough to be given a cupcake in 3rd grade for Timmy’s birthday, never getting to taste the delectability, the titillating, clit-tickling ability of deliciously sweet yum-yum cuppy cakes. Never figuring this out, with puberty, throw in a little luck, and continuing to play sports, but somehow not being popular even so, and all their hard work finally pays off! They are hot as hell, and people start noticing them. But, the “cool cats” that made fun of her and never had the time of day for her before get nothing from her, because one day she will go postal on their asses for all the torment and psychologist visits they brought upon her. The band-geek that was her friend no matter what because it was a human of the female variety that talked to him, will probably get first dibs. But it’s too late, because senior year is already over, and soon enough she will go to college, get into clubs and get served drinks, meet the wrong guys, and one day end up in Playboy College Girls. End up sleeping with a teacher, becoming preggers and dropping out of school, have MTV make a show about it, My Teacher Fucked Me In The Ass and Got Me Pregnant. What the fuck did I just talk about? You can’t get preggo from sodomy. Unless there is some form of disgusto that involves analinguis and then spittin the juicy yum cum back into the va-jay-jay. I’m sure there’s a word for that, I just haven’t been able to find it on urban dictionary or Wikipedia. A sort of modified felch + snowball 3X combo, if you will. Back to my previous direction. If they did have real jobs, there would be way more cars which would lead to way more traffic, and especially problematic, there would be more women drivers, which would lead to more traffic and more accidents, because as we all know women can’t drive, so it’s probably for the best.

Congratulations on being hot. You deserve all the attention you get. Stay off the roads and don’t get a job, just keep suckin’ that dick for all of your monetary needs. But, if for some reason, you decide you want to become ugly for some crazy reason, don’t depend on men to pay for anything for you anymore, unless you’re that good at givin’ it up and s’in that dee.

Someday, maybe, just someday, i hope, I will be able to do something useful, or something like that, I think.

S(dot)cott M(eezy)iller