Ramblings From an Apathetic Adult Baby

From Justin Gawel: Eccentric Dirtbag

Monthly Archives: December 2011

My Style of Romance / Cosmopolitan Magazine Doesn’t Know Shit.

Cosmopolitan magazine is a waste of time and money.

A widely know fact, and yet Cosmopolitan magazine still has millions of female subscribers looking to figure out new ways to sexually please their man.  New ways to satisfy your man?  Listen, human beings have been around for thousands of years, so how many possible “new” ways could Cosmo have possibly discovered in the last month in the realm of genitals stimulation?  Like clockwork though, every month printed on their cover is a headline reading: “80 Ways to Blow His Mind in Bed Tonight,” or something similar.   Bullshit.

Do not fear though, as I, Justin Gawel, know what fellas like in romance, as I’ve wooed over nine of them into my bedroom (not all at once of course, I don’t know how I would explain that).

In general, men are simpler than women.  You never hear about “high maintenance” men.  Wait, I take that back.  Outside of referring to the heroin-addicted janitors at my job, I never hear about “high maintenance” men, but yet everyone has heard that phrase in regards to a woman.  It’s like the old saying: give a man a fish and he’ll thank you for the fish.  Teach a man to fish and he’ll thank you for the fishing trip.   Give a woman a fish and she’ll fly into some feminist rant about why are the women expected to cook the fucking fish.   Teach a woman to fish and she’ll generally make her husband “touch the worm and do all the gross parts”.  Dialogue that I’m sure the man heard from her in the bedroom at some point.

The following are my views on how romance should be approached from my perspective.  I don’t want to get in a whole thing about speaking on behalf of men everywhere because I know there are much more viable candidates than myself for that duty.  Michael Jordan, Bruce Willis, Arsenio Hall, all good candidates for that, all cool dudes.  There are some shitty ones out there too, but just like womankind wouldn’t pick Casey Anthony to represent them, mankind wouldn’t pick Scott Peterson.  Both of those people would be horrible choices to represent their respective gender.  Horrible, awful choices, but yet if the Fox Network started a reality show starting both of them I’m sure most of America would still tune in to watch each week.

Without further adieu, let me present to you: Justin Gawel’s Romance Guide!

Listen, I’ve never been big on presents.  For a special event I like to go out on the town, as I cannot fit any more items into the hoard hole that is my apartment.    Nobody really needs that much more stuff and, honestly, we’re all adults now.  If I want something I just go out and buy it, I don’t need to wait for my birthday, Christmas, or Jewish-Christmas anymore.    This is why it baffles me as to why any woman would ever want flowers.  I would equate bringing a woman flowers to bringing home a puppy.  They’re fantastic when you first get them; everyone coming into your place adoring them constantly.   Then the novelty wears off and you start forgetting to give them water here and there.  Then they become more of a nuisance, as they just stop responding to anything you’re trying to do with them anymore.  Then, before you know it, they’re dead and rotting at the bottom of the garbage can.  Sunrise.  Sunset.

Other “romantic” presents are just as big a waste of money.  “Oh boy, my girlfriend bought me a greeting card.  How long do I have to hold onto this before I can throw it away?”  And people continue to wonder why the rainforests are being destroyed.

Or like balloons.  Balloons are a terrific present to give if the man you’re trying to woo is turning six next week.  Middle-aged handsy woman from the Discovery Zone ball pit in 1995, I’m looking at you!

Then when it comes to the bedroom I know exactly what I like and I communicate it effectively. Women have said I’m premature, but I tend to view myself as “efficient”.    Also, ladies, if I don’t eat berries in my normal life, what makes you think I’m going to want to eat them in the bedroom?   Why would I want whipped cream and strawberries when I could have mini corndogs and a quart of queso dip?

However, it is a blast to be adventurous.  In relationships it’s fun to deviate from the norm.  “Don’t knock it til you try it” a phrase taken all too literally by Chris Brown, but a good mantra for couples that like to keep it interesting.  For instance, the next time you and your lady are getting frisky, look her straight in the eye and say in the Batman voice, “Sometimes the truth isn’t good enough, sometimes people deserve more. Sometimes people deserve to have their faith rewarded.”  Then just continue going at it.  There aren’t any hard feelings if she thinks it’s weird.  Now you know another thing she not into, which will help you narrow the possible remaining field of potential erotic pleasures.  This time: Batman voice. Next time: ask her to make robot noises (you know, if you’re feeling saucy and tech savvy).  I figure most guys would either find them very hot or very funny, and at the end of the day doesn’t every guy want to either be laughing incredibly hard or have their penis incredibly hard?

Furthermore, Cosmo, I’ve noticed a lot of the articles in your magazine advise women to play little games with their man throughout the day.  Silly contests, bets, things like holding the sports page hostage in exchange for twenty minutes of cuddling, etc.  Most men will see these as a waste of time and hate all of these activities.   If a woman thinks holding the sports page hostage in exchange for twenty minutes of cuddling, then that woman is about to be in for the shittiest twenty minutes of cuddling ever.  He’s either just going to go for his phone, or computer to check his precious sports news or lie there saying, “has it been twenty minutes yet,” over and over.  Either way the plan is going to backfire.  I mean, a woman wouldn’t like it if her man was all, “hey, you’re gonna have to have sex with me before I tell you where I hid your dialysis meds.”

Boom, consider yourselves educated, Cosmo.  Now if only I can get this article into the hands of women everywhere and bankrupt that shitty publication once and for all.

Please don’t buy any more Cosmopolitan magazines, everyone.

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People Watching > Bird Watching

The early 1900’s were a simpler time.  And by simpler I of course mean boring.  Life was uninteresting; people actually read books and went bird watching for fun.  Can you believe that books passed for entertainment back then?  No visuals of car chases, explosions, or sex.  I can honestly say that Requiem for a Dream wouldn’t have been as stunning if I only had descriptions of Jennifer Connelly having half of a double-ended dildo jammed up her chocolate factory.

Nowadays our society has progressed.  People who embrace bird watching are no longer conventional and considered strange, eccentric, or freaks by most social circles.  If the world were a high school cafeteria the birdwatchers would be sitting alone in silence at the broken lunch table that’s covered in stains.  Today we think of birds are mundane, but people and people watching?  Now that’s entertainment!

Like bird watching, people watching can occur nearly anywhere, although some places are significantly better than others. A stuffy office building, for instance, does not have the ability to yield the noteworthy goons that a county fair or a Department of Human Services waiting room can.   Plus, with humans, there’s no chance of missing out on seeing them, because unlike birds that can migrate thousands of miles across continents at times, the trolls you’ll find at these locales rarely deviate from the area between their probation office, the liquor store, and the bowling alley.

Very little equipment is needed for people watching. You don’t need binoculars or telescopes, as most of these specimens are so pudgy they can be seen from blocks away.  Basically, you just need enough self-control not to draw attention to yourself and all the judgments you’re making about everyone else.  Yes, it’s fun to sit at Applebee’s and quietly comment on the oaf parade that the staff there calls their “dinner rush”.  Yes, it is smart not to order anything from the dumpster that Applebee’s refers to as their kitchen. And yes, it would be hilarious to stand up on your table and scream,  “man the harpoons” just as an obese white woman waddles through the door, but don’t do that. Your cover will be blown, it will startle the rest of the grazing herd, and your fun evening will be ruined.

Alas, if only Applebee’s had existed in the time of Moby Dick, I would bet that Captain Ahab wouldn’t have had much trouble finding a white whale.

Once you have become adept at identifying the novice-level chuckleheads (i.e. the morbidly-obese, the perpetually filthy, and the doomsday-obsessed rambling preachers) you’ll be ready to move onto the slightly more challenging messes.

  • Rats- Their habitat is that of the county fair or possibly a NASCAR race.  They can usually be seen beating their wives, drinking grain alcohol, and having their hair braided into (the so aptly named) rat-tails.
  • Not In Control Mom- Found usually in the wilds of Wal-Mart, these women were probably normal before having children. Perhaps even a fellow people watcher at one point.  Now she has four kids, all of which are chronically whining or making trouble, thus, it now takes her and her clan an hour to do the shopping that a single person could do in ten minutes.
  • Dirty Hippie- These folk can generally be distinguished by their ramblings about how great they think the Dave Matthews Band is, how they describe the drugs they use, and that they want everyone to know about all the drugs they use.  They typically smell horrible, and are more annoying than amusing.  They should be mostly used as a prop to tell cautionary tales to children about what happens when your parents don’t love you.
  • Delusional Vietnam Veteran- In a perpetual state of fear and hatred for any minorities, these old vets can be found virtually any place that isn’t the local Chinatown or Little Vietnam.  These men are usually at their best when they’re in a middle of a flashback, although they can become very distracting if your name happens to be Charlie or Victor.
  • The Extra Pregnant- These are the women that look as if they are about to give birth to a litter or children.  They look as if their belly button went from an innie to an outie in their first trimester.  These manatees are generally ill-tempered and are quick to yell at their waiter/husband/merkin salesman whenever anything is not to their likings.  Big laughs ahead when watching this specimen.

Luring birds towards your area with birdcalls are a big part of the activity of bird watching and, of course, people watching is no different.  Which call you use depends on whom you’re looking to attract.  Chanting “all you can eat buffet” is going to lure the fatties on their rascal scooters, you know, the mall food court crowd, while the Circuit Court crowd would be more attracted to calls of “free Obama money”.  Be sure to retreat to a good hiding spot after vocalizing these calls, as we wouldn’t want any ogres coming up to us and actually inquiring as to where the buffet or free money station is.  Remember, at the end of the day, people watching is about making fun of un-knowing individuals behind their backs for things they likely can’t control.  Lord knows we don’t actually want any interpersonal contact with these individuals.

*Fun Tip: Scattering flyers for a non-existent garage sale, holistic healing seminar, or a Bible camp is an easy and anonymous way to drive the freak show to wherever you want it to be.

People watching is like a safari, except that more people watching habitats are constantly being created with urban sprawl while traditional safari, or wilderness habitats are continuously being destroyed.  Thus, we can look forward to a future filled even more freaks and locations to watch said freaks!  Just remember to keep your eyes open and your laughing to a minimum.  That is unless you want to start a very awkward exchange with a 300-pound behemoth on why you are intently watching them gorge themselves on the bucket of lard balls that they’re dipping in ranch dressing.   Wait, I didn’t even know this Lazer Quest sold lard balls, let alone food! Disgusting, indeed.

Happy judging, everybody!

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