I'm Not a Real Man. Or Am I a 24th Century Man?

I'm not a real man.

No, no, no. You're just being nice. It's true. No! Stop it! Listen to me! It's true.

I am not a real man.

I am tiny. With the exception of my gut and big breasts, I have no mass. My arms are sticks. My legs below the knee are almost non-existent.  You could totally snap me like a twig. A twig with a gut and big titties.

My face is fat. No cheekbones. No defined chin. Just droopy fat. I look like I'm 16.

Worst of all, the facial hair. Or lack thereof.

I have no facial hair.

If I were to go without shaving for months, I would simply have strands of disgusting hair growing in a sort of anti-Hitler mustache. And approximately four strands of hair growing out of my chiny-chin-chin.

It's hilarious. My best dreams, the ones that are so good I realize they are a dream when I am dreaming them, have to do with me suddenly having facial hair. I will be amazed at the incredible beard I can grow. Sometimes, it may just be a bad-ass mustache or  even just sideburns. Other times it is the perfect amount of Indiana Jones class stuble.

In there dreams, I always realize, "Wait? Why do I have facial hair all of a sudden? Surely this is a dream!" It always is. A wonderful, wonderful dream.

Most people dream about winning the lottery. Some people dream about falling in love. Other, similar, but less juvenile people dream about the act of sex. Hitler dreamt about ruling to world. My wet dream is about growing facial hair (that is meant as a joke. A dream about facial hair has never literally been a "wet dream." Don't want you to think I'd that strange...)

Oh, and all the wonderful things I would do with my facial hair (if I had it)! Goatees!  And villainous mustaches (with that curl on the end that I cut stroke whenever I laugh manically)! And that British look where all that is shaved is your chin (like Watson used to have before the Holmes reboot)! And Obi Wan Kenobi class beards! And Indiana Jones, best of all, level stubble! Oh, the facial hair I would grow (if I could)...

I am not a man. I exhibit no manly characteristics. I've never been punched in the face. I've never thrown a perfect spiral. I have never watched an entire sporting event without getting distracted, not even when I have been at the game. I've never gotten drunk and snogged a chick. I don't know shit about cars.

I am not a man. But, aside from the breasts, I'm not a woman (and even those are not womanly. Wouldn't want to titty fuck these titties) either. So what am I?

Could I, perhaps be a 24th century man?

Not the kind of 24th century man portrayed in Star Trek. Captain James T. Kirk is far too much of a man for me. Even Bones, with his constant complaining and fear, is more man than I will ever be.

No, I'm an actual 24th Century Man, not a fictional one.

I have less hair on my body because I am simply more evolved. Farther removed from our monkey brethren. My arms and legs are tiny, because in the 24th Century, man does not need muscles. Machines do all the work. Man simply needs hands. For operating computers and masturbating.

For in the 24th Century, man need not have sexual relations to reproduce. Machines do all that for man as well. They keep the species going, so sex is a thing of the past. Therefore, courting skills are no longer known by 24th Century Man (which explains why I lack them). All 24th Century Man knows is masterbation.

I am 24th Century Man! Hear me roar! If I were not so easily defeated by 21st Century Man (aka Real Man), you should feel threatened! Because there would be the chance I could replace you, were I not far inferior to you in everyway.

Oh. And the breasts? 24th Century Man is the source of delicious milk. Because Cows are extinct.

Damn you McDonalds!

Fuck, That Looks Appetizing!

Today I was driving home from Barnes and Noble when I saw a very interesting bus ad.

The response was instant.  I wanted to vomit. But, I didn't vomit. With as much control over my bodily functions as I could muster, I keep myself from vomiting on my dashboard... shitting my pants instead in an act of utter disgust: a real "Fuck You" to Ronald McDonald.

Really, the Big Mac Snack Wrap is the most revolutionary fast food item since the KFC Famous bowl.

You remember the KFC Famous bowl, don't you? That appetizing mess of every KFC item. Cheese upon Popcorn Chicken upon mash potatoes with just the right about of gravy drizzled over the top. And yes, there's corn in there (Corn?! I didn't have any Corn! [As Austin Powers quote sure, but I also say this everyday after having Chipoltle.].)!

Really ladies, if your man starts eating KFC Famous Bowls than you need to leave him, because is about to move to a trailer and start beating your ass. Right after NASCAR, that is.

God, that looks delicious. Like vomit... that you just paid for (I can't think of anything worse).

Okay, so this Mac Snack Wrap isn't nearly as brilliant as the KFC Famous Bowl (KFC had to invent grilled chicken just to make up for that garbage! [Kentucky FRIED Chicken. Had to invent GRILLED Chicken! That is how fucked up it was]), but it's pretty damn close.

You see, they've taken what appears to be all the Big Mac ingredients, removed the bun, decreased the portions (that's what makes it a snack, mind you.) and dropped that steamy shit into a tortilla (which makes it both ethnic and a snack). Because that's what a snack is; the same shit you fill your body with at mealtime, in smaller portions, wrapped in a tortilla. 

I really don't have to even write this blog. The pictures say it all (I did not take them, I found them on the web. Look, if I had actually bought one of these things, my roommate would have found my lifeless body hanging in the kitchen when she came home). "What a disgusting menu item, even by McDonalds' standards. If they sell any, it will be thanks to high college students and college students who can't afford drugs, so they instead dare each other to eat disgusting shit (This blog entry really has exhausted all the ways I can think of to say "disgusting shit." But, alas, I am too lazy to go to thesaurus.com)," they would say (the pictures, I mean, if I lost you there), "The monster who pitched this 'snack' should be force fed Mac Snack Wraps until his stomach explodes and he dies (thank you, SE7EN)."

 

It's a cruel way to go, sure, but it's an orgasm compared to how the inventor of the KFC Famous Bowl left this world (hint, it was exactly the same as the punishment described above, only involved the KFC Famous Bowl instead of the Mac Snack Wrap).

But he was a redneck, anyway. So it was totally legal...