April 3, 26 J.E.
I’m so proud.
My little brother has finally
learned what evil, vindictive, psychotic little ho’s chicks can be. Yes, the
sole hope of grandparents for our mother has been skewered by the
estrogen-induced insanity of womanhood. Granted, he wasn’t as badly shafted as I was
by my plethora of nutcase bitches, but I still felt bad for him. After all,
from my brief time knowing this chick, she seemed like a perfectly reasonable,
sane, stable person. Granted, I had only met her once and corresponded via E-mail with her,
but I thought that my psycho radar had been hone to a fine point by the
continual feminine assaults against my fragile little mind. Boy was I fooled,
for she was clearly a few beers shy of a six pack. Hell, you should have seen
the other chick he was thinking of dating. She was totally insane! SHE
WAS A COMMUNIST!!
At least I know it’s not just me.
Sanity, it seems, is a commodity in
very short supply among people, most notably chicks. As I’ve said before, I’m
no sexist. Guys are at least as insane and women, I just don’t find myself
ravaged by their madness as often. As you’ve no doubt picked up by now, my
history with chicks is less than stellar, with a pretty fair number of near
misses where I was smart enough to chicken out before becoming entangled. As a
result of this most recent episode, I’m convinced that my brother and I are
woefully ill-equipped for dealing with chicks on this planet, seeing as we tend to
deal with problems through dispassionate analysis and non-confrontational
conversation. Most chicks only want screaming fights followed by
smoochy-smoochy make-up sessions. I like roller coasters, but not the emotional
kind. I know there are good chicks, but they’re all married. A chick who’s
still single in her mid 20’s is most likely completely deranged.
He and I decided that we should cut out all of the bullshit and
get our chicks directly from the mental ward. Overcrowded and underfunded
nuthouses would probably take us up on the offer. The conversation would
probably go something like this:
ME: Hi, I’m looking for a woman, thin to medium build, B-cups or
greater.
RECEPTIONIST: Of course, Mr. Jason the Heroic. We’ve got a manic depressive
in today and a schizophrenic straight from the electro-shock therapy room.
ME: Hmmm…you got anything in a catatonic?
I must say, I do believe my dear
brother’s conduct was beyond reproach. At least he didn’t knock her up.