Don’t Be Friends with your Ex

Tonight, the final one before I go off on my epic final man journey (BACHELOR PARTY) Sue and I wax poetic about:

  • A listener who is still friends with her ex on facebook…and shouldn’t be
  • My recent San Diego and Sin City Trip
  • The idea of delayed adolescence, and why it might not be a bad thing
  • The difference between dating a boy and a man
  • The hook-up culture of college
  • and more!

We’ll be on re-runs next week (duh) so enjoy!

A Day in the Life of a Hollywood “man”.

I recently found this online somewhere, from a blog from someone I’ll call, “Robert.” I thought it was interesting enough to share with you all.

This Saturday morning, I’m going to go to the gym. I, of course, will not do so without first telling everyone about it on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. Because everyone needs to know that I’m going to the gym.

Once I arrive at the gym, I will be sure to “check in” at the gym via one of the previously mentioned social networks, so that everyone knows where I am. On the way to the locker room to change, I’ll be sure to take a phone call from a “friend” and ignore the signs asking me to not talk on my phone while in the locker room. How dare they tell me what to do?

Then, I will jump on the treadmill and yap on my cell phone even though there are signs asking me not to, and when I’m done talking, I’ll text and surf facebook to see if anyone “liked” my status, and be crestfallen if no one does. I’ll be sure to only walk or do a light jog and not hit the weights because I have no doubt that steady state cardio is the way to weight loss, and I can eat anything I want and just work it off in the gym.

I'm AWESOME

Also, I’ll be sure to wear sunglasses, and if I do use a machine, hog it even though people ask me to alternate, and I’ll also be sure not to wipe off my sweat. I’m going to do this because I can, and no one has any right to tell me what to do or how to behave.

Then I’m going to go to the locker room, walk around buck naked with my balls hanging out while I head to the shower without flip flops. I’ll be sure to hock loogies while I’m in there, and yap some more on my cell phone once I get back to my locker. I’ll also remember to have a carb-filled “recovery” drink waiting for me and admire myself in the mirror as long as possible in front of the other guys. I might even consider shaving my balls at the sinks if I feel like it.

Then, I’m going to get into my car to get out of the parking garage, and spend 5 minutes with a line of cars behind me because I can’t figure out the ticket thing, even though I’ve been coming to this gym for over a year.

Then, I’ll get on the highway and not check my blind spot because I’m trying to update my facebook status while going 90 in a 65. But don’t worry, I won’t hit anyone. It’s very important that everyone knows what I think about the latest political opinion of mine that I got from a pundit on MSNBC. My opinions matter because they are as real as furniture.

Then I’ll go to the movies. I’ll sit in the middle of the theater and start texting. The previews will start and I’ll keep texting. Oops, I almost forgot to check in on Facebook. I’m cool for seeing, “Man of Steel.” The movie will start and I’ll keep texting. I won’t even turn the brightness down because how else will I be able to see my screen?

I’ll be sure to keep a running tally on how much this movie sucks on Twitter. Because my opinions are as real as furniture and as important, more important, than yours.

After the movie, I’ll go get a healthy lunch of a footlong subway sandwich and a diet coke.

Then I’ll get on facebook again and see if anyone has liked my status from before at the gym. I’ll also look at my ex-girlfriend’s page to see if she’s single yet. She has no right to be happy after dumping me. How dare she be happy?

I’ll go on facebook, again. I get invited to a friend’s house-warming party tonight, last minute, but they are in the process of getting married and are very busy, but is that my problem? Besides, there might be a better party to go to because in Los Angeles, it’s all about networking. I put my response as, “maybe.” They’ve known me since college, they’ll get over it.

Then, a girl I’ve never met who is really hot and has 3,234 friends on facebook invites me to a club opening tonight in Hollywood. Sure I’ll go to that! That’s awesome. Even though I have to buy a ticket for $100, so what? That sounds awesome.

I go home to my $2500 a month condo that my parents are paying for, take a shower and spray a liberal amount of AXE body spray all over my pube-less chest. I spend 10 minutes putting gel into my hair to get that, “No effort at all” look that I’ve perfected. I then take a selfie and put it on Instagram. I then delete it because I don’t want people to think I’m gay.

I drive to Hollywood and pay $20 for parking. I get in line and notice that it’s mostly full of guys wearing the same thing I am; a button-down Ed Hardy shirt, untucked, with jeans and loafers. Many of them are texting. I “check” myself in to the hottest club in Hollywood because I want people to know that I’m here because I’m awesome.

An hour, I finally get in. I only have $100 cash on me and they are only accepting cash for the ticket. I now have to use my AMEX that my rich father pays for. I get into the club and most people are standing. I see the girl who invited me. I try to talk to her but she’s texting and puts her hand up. I check myself in to the club “with” her but she doesn’t approve it on her wall. What a bitch.

I see a guy I work with at William Morris but I ignore him because he’s such a douche; he’s so nice, he’s, like, interested in other people’s opinions and actually gives sincere compliments. What a complete pussy. He’ll get no-where in this town, like he’s ever going to be assigned to a desk. I see Gavin, Paul, Gavin, Dakota and Becky from the office at a table. They invite me over and they give me a shot. For once, I’m getting somewhere.

An hour later I’m wasted and stuff. Is it an hour? No, it’s 2am. I blink my eyes and go get my credit card from the bar. I went to the bar? Awesome! I blink my eyes again when I see the, “$646.45” charge. Whatever; how else am I going to get girls to sleep with me unless I buy them drinks? That’s totally how it works. I write, “CASH” on the tip line, take my card and stumble away.

Whatever, I can totally drive, fuck you. I get behind the wheel of my Porsche Cayenne and ignore the asshole who suggests I get a cab. It’s not like I’m going to get a DUI. Piss off. I drive back to my condo and nothing bad happens. I think I may have dinged a parked car or something but whatever, he’s probably a Republican.

Once home, I don’t want to be hungover tomorrow, so I order pizza and eat the entire thing. I get on facebook and see if anyone likes my statuses. Nope. Whatever. I go to sleep.

I recently found out that the author of this post, Robert, was found dead and mutilated on the side of the 405s freeway near the 101N exit. A Tarbarian Devil Dragon was seen flying away, its jaws bloody with the entrails of a douche. When asked for the comment, the Dragon said, “There is no hope for the human race, but I do my best.”

 

 

 

 

 

Robin Thicke, Emails, and Romance….?

Tonight, on the eve of my epic journey to San Diego and Las Vegas, Sue and I discuss:

  • My upcoming trip, and the drama that I’m probably going to run into
  • A reading from a blog I “found” on the internet from a guy who works in the William Morris Endeavor mail room
  • Robin Thicke..still on the fence
  • An email from a girl who is considering the “back door”
  • An email from a guy who is dating a girl who told him about another guy she was banging
  • And more!