IATS: Where Ranting Happens

Dr. Beardhussein’s Study of Crazy Ass Women Continues…

Let’s rock.

Yes, Yes. I know. It’s been a while.

What have I been doing for all this time? I mean, literally SINGLES of people have dutifully checked this little section of the internet hoping for more of my quirky brand of Reyness only to be disappointed.

“It ain’t that serious is more like it ain’t that active, ni**a!”

“ReyTheHussein must be back in that spiderhole, yo!”

“Dr. Beardhussein musta been sued for malpractice, doggy!”

“I grew up on a houseboat in Spain!”

I know. I abandoned my post. Luckily tho’, I can tell you that it’s been for a good cause. I’ve really thrown myself into the gym thing (i might’ve mentioned that at some point on here–if not, the short version is that I started going back to the gym in late September of 2009 and I’ve stuck with it and worked very hard to lose weight and start the epic quest of reshaping my body from round and fat to less round and less fat) and have started to see some very encouraging results.

I’m also happy to report that my depression is gone. This is a big deal. I’m also also happy to report that I’ve gotten a promotion and a raise at work. I’m not making Cristal Ace of Spades money, but it’s a solid amount that will help me out on journey towards Whatever Is Next.

On the girl front, I’m still single, but it’s a hopeful single. My Friend Zone summer of 2009 was the last gasp of my insane and often destructive “Need A Girl” syndrome, and now I’m just concentrating on making my life better. I’ve had some encouraging nights out that let me know that I might be ready to get on back out there in dating land.

(end of update)

***

Begin Rant

Now…

What I’m sure we can all agree on is the fact that girls are f**king crazy. Just completely mad. Box of frogs bonkers. I used to have a list of girls that aren’t crazy–girls that were rational and thoughtful and didn’t freak out over insignificant slights, both real & imagined. That list, for the most part, is gone. Now there are just degrees of insanity.

Much like the Bog of Eternal Stench, female insanity, even a touch of it, can stay with you for-e-ver.

Let’s take a look at the different kinds of insanity, shall we? Some of these are greatest hits kinda crazies, some of these will be exclusive to stuff I’ve encountered, and some of these are just me being baffled.

Here we go.

“It’s a lovely day for a recreational haircut!”

Why this is crazy: Um, yeah. Let me get this straight. You’re upset about something at your job or your school. Your mom doesn’t understand you. Your boyfriend stopped paying as much attention to you. So, your weapon of choice is to chop your hair off? How is that a good idea? Your hair will only look good for a couple of days, provided it’s not too humid. Then it’ll get longer and the style won’t work, thus forcing you to chop even more of it off. Finally, you’ll snap because you hate your shorter hair and dye it some awful color, and then get mad at the world because we can’t fake liking your horribly colored, far-too-short hair.

Crazy Score: 4/10.

“I hope we can still be friends!”

Why this is crazy: When I was 15 years old, I was walking back home from the Brentwood High School when I got surrounded by these little thuglets. After asking me stupid questions, one of them punches me in the face, another rips my chain (but didn’t take it. suck it, thuglets!), and they make off with my brother’s walkman. It hurt, it was embarrassing, and I realize that if I’d have just taken a different route home, I’d have been unharmed. Do you know what DIDN’T happen after all that? None of those guys, after punching me in the face and emasculating me, asked if we could still be friends. Do you know why? BECAUSE THEY KNEW THAT THAT’S NOT SOME SHIT YOU CAN BE FRIENDS AFTER!

Crazy Score: 7/10

*various lies or frustrating quotes*

Why this is crazy: “I’m fine” means “I don’t want to talk about it” or “You’re in trouble over something stupid but I started the last argument and even tho’ I’m completely insane I don’t want to FEEL like I’m completely insane”. “I can’t believe you just said/did that” means “You thought that was funny. It wasn’t. Now, instead of just forgiving you for your trifle of a crime like assuming I had a sense of humor that goes beyond those hilarious TMZ voiceovers, I’m going to have a great time while you dread the inevitable argument we have in the car.” (because those ICBYJS/DT moments almost always happen whilst out and about. i’m convinced that trigger is only activated in public, not because of etiquette and the illusion of properness, but because girls like ruining things that should be fun. true story). “I’m so confused!” means “There’s a guy out there that I like more than you, but he hasn’t given me the green light, so I have to string you along.” Also, it’s crazy because girls should just say how they feel. This has to be the number one quote that transcends race, creed, color, religion, and age. They say Music is the universal language. I say a jew, a ni**er, a sp*c, a ch*nk, a sand ni**er, a f**king martian, & some cracker ass crackers could all sit down and go, “I know! My girl does that too!!” on some of these.

Crazy Score: 9/10

Done & Done (aka Finish Line Fun)

Why this is crazy: Why, oh why, do girls feel the need to have some elaborate back-story when it comes to the guy they’re dating? What’s wrong with saying, “I met him at a bar” or “He works with me” or even “He’s my friend’s ex, but she treated him like absolute shit and he’s a nice guy, so whatever, she had her chance”? Why does it always have to be “Sometimes you just know!”? Because, honestly? You don’t know. You didn’t know. You never knew. You caught him by surprise. Congrats, you’re the Viet Cong of dating.

Or how about “We liked each other for so long, but it just never happened!” No. NO. That’s not true. I was there. You were caught up with some caveman knuckle dragging motherfucker and he pined…and pined…and spruced…and cedar’d for you. You kept him in the friend zone until you were so royally screwed by the guy you were royally screwing (bazinga!) that you had to runrunrun to a friendly face that would be so gosh darn happy to be given a shot that he wouldn’t point out the fact that EVERYONE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD knew your former neanderthal paramour was, in fact, a testicle shitting rectal wart…with like, super hot abs. Girls, there doesn’t have to be a back-story. You’re the only one that ever had a pre-determined need for an awesome and amazing fairy tale for how you and your significant other got together. You know how guys tell the story? I’ll tell you, step by step:

“I dunno, some chick. I’d do her.”

“We’re supposed to hang out. She’s got a great rack.”

“I paid for dinner and she didn’t even blow me!”

“Sorry guys, I’m hanging out with that chick.”

“Hey guys, this is ___.”

There ya go. That’s the genuine, unedited, guy version of the story. AND YOU CALL IT MAGICAL!

Crazy Score: 8/10

Girls, A**holes, Nice Guys, & High Speed Internet Access

Why this is crazy: Once upon a time, girls ruled the world. They made up all the rules. They set the standards for admission into BootyTown. The lines were drawn, the caste system was set in place, and to paraphrase The Most Electrifying Man In Sports Entertainment, we all, for the most part, knew our roles and shut our mouths. Then the cable modem was made accessible to all. Not only did the cable modem and high speed internet make stealing music easier, thus leading to the erosion of standards and taste for music and allowing a piece of shit like Drake to chart, but it also gave guys everywhere access to Porn. Lots of porn. Lots of different kinds of porn. Lots and lots of different and exhilarating kinds of porn.

So what did guys do with this newfound access? They watched porn! But eventually, it warped them. Guys moved onto weirder or rougher stuff, and had their minds altered to where girls were no longer equals, or partners, but conquests and conquests alone. These new brands of dudes went on and on, not just in their own predetermined caste, but raiding castes below them! Yessir, they went after **MY** thick cute white girls! I mean, I used to be able to pull a thick little hottie onnastrenff of me being a nice guy with some edge to him. Unfortunately, the caste jumpers were on my turf, and the girls were like “Whoa, this is awesome!”

Eventually tho’, the girls realized the neanderthal nature of these knuckle dragging YouPorn junkies and acted accordingly. Shields went up and they were put on high alert. However, as the cavemen of yore did, the cavemen of um, now-ore, evolved.

But we’ll get back to that.

So the d-bag caste humping cavemen of now-ore are cleaning up. They’ve got girls left and right (“your chicks are your left and right”) and making guys like me and the Yahoos feel like poor Duckie from the picture up thar. We’re walking around thinking, “Man, the assholes are the only ones that get girls. We should be assholes!” Of course, neither me nor the guys actually have it in us to be assholes, but other Nice Guys did. So, tragically, we have a whole slew of nice guys going out of their way to be assholes because girls love the attention of assholes.

Why? WHY? Because of some insane nonsense like “validation”? On some ol’ “Well, if I can change an asshole into a nice guy, I’ll know he cares!” I’m sorry, but that’s fucking retarded. No matter what set of khakis he has on… No matter what color smedium LaCoste polo shirt he has on… No matter how conservative his haircut, or how facial-hair free his grill is… He’s still an asshole. He hasn’t been changed. He hasn’t been tamed. He’s just stopped being an asshole long enough for you to take off the tracking bracelet he has around his ankle. The second your back is turned tho’? Booyah. Still an asshole.

So yeah, we have nice guys being assholes, and then we’ve got the Cavemen of Now-Ore evolving into the Orange Drink of Nice Guys. Oh, you don’t follow me? You will.

We all know what orange drink is. Sure, it’s orange, it tastes vaguely citrus-like, and it’s somewhat refreshing, but 20 minutes after you’re done you feel sick to your stomach. Same thing with The Now-Evolved Cavemen of Now-Ore. See, they’ve studied the nice guys. They’ve seen how our genuine interest in unconventional, not-so-manly stuff has given us inroads to the Land of Girl. They even get some of the crazy girl puzzles and language figured out.

They get involved in situations they have no desire to actually see thru ’til the end, using works-on-girls words and phrases:

~”I’m so confused”

~”I like you so much”

~”I wish things were different”,

~”Do you wanna come over and watch a movie?”

And girls fall for it Every. Single. Time.

*exhale*

So these assholes steal that stuff from the genuinely nice guys amongst us, making the sensitive’n’smart amongst us either turn to dickitry, or take ourselves out of the game entirely.

The only thing I can think of is that girls decide, “Hey, this guy’s a d*ck, but I know he’s a d*ck from jump street. This guy seems nice, but might be a d*ck in disguise, and that means I’d get hurt after sleeping with him.”

So, in the end, we’re all fucked.

Crazy Score: 1,000,000/10

***

Call Reynolds, Cuz it’s a Wrap.

Okay kids, I’m done for today. This was a healthy exercise, and I think I managed to pull some punches (for the most part). I didn’t even go in on the stupidity of cheating cheaters and the ones they cheat on, but that just means I can rant & rave again another time.

As always, comments, questions, and additions to the list can be left below in the Christopher Wallace-Dr. Donda West Memorial Comments Sections.

Thanks for tuning in.

–RTH