“In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth… and then light… and then a selfish little mammal called man.”
Or something like that. In truth our ‘creation’ was a lot less grandiose and magical than various religions would lead you to believe, with our current human form being the result of thousands of years of adapting to fend off predators, survive climate change and hunt for food. All these years of evolution have led us to where we are right now: privileged gelatinous bags of flesh.
While it seems that we may be finished evolving (except for our expanding waistlines), if you look closely enough you can see signs of it in everyday life. While it may not be quite as apparent as our transition from knuckle-draggers to iMac-users, it’s evident to those with a keen eye and even more evident if you involve alcohol.
Join me as I take a trip into the mind of a boozed up 21st century Neanderthal.
Wallet: check, debit card: check, identification: check. Oops, nearly forgot to spray my cologne… wow. This stuff’s pungent. I bet it’ll make girls swoon within a 30-yard radius, or at least knock any surrounding wildlife unconscious. I read an article in GQ that said you should only apply a smidgeon of fragrance on your neck and the subtle scent will draw women in closer. What a crock of shit. Three sprays on the neck, one on the hair, two on the chest and two on the genitalia. The golden combination.
My testicles have started to itch. It’s probably the Black XS I sprayed down there earlier. Ah well, a few Buds at Mike’s house should take my mind off it. I’ll just have one or two before we head to the club, nothing too crazy. Oh look, Nathan’s beer-bonging! CHUG CHUG CHUG! Ha ha, what the hell, I’ll give it a go. What’s the worst that could happen?
WHAT THE F*CK ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!
Finalus Makeitus Toclubus
Okay, the journey to the club gave me some time to sober up a bit. The music in this place is pretty terrible.The girls aren’t too great either. Oh well, I might as well mingle now that I’m here. This girl next to me doesn’t look too bad from behind; I’ll buy her a drink.
“Excuse me, what are you dri-“OMG WHAT IS THAT ON HER FACE. Is that a mole? Wow. I’m gonna need another drink. Bartender!
Wow. The music tonight is great. And this beer! Wow. It’s just… great. The women, they’re great too. This girl next to me, she might be great if I just give her a chance.
“Excuse me, what are you drinking? I love your mole. It really gives you character.” Oh. She appears to have poured her drink all over me. Maybe it was an accident. Yeah, it was probably an accident. Bartender!
I could have any woman in here I wanted. Suzanne doesn’t know what she’s missing. My hands are like rhythmic orgasm machines, ready to slay every vagina in attendance with incomparable pleasure. I exude sexual potency and break down barriers as women beg me with their eyes for my fingers to caress their ample posteriors. Come here, baby…
Perhaps I was a little too free with my hands. This dudes arm is as big as my neck. Even his ankle has a six-pack. What am I going to do…?
Ah, yes, I know; I’ll assume the fetal position and begin begging for forgiveness. He’ll laugh and walk away, and I’ll still retain all of my limbs. He may think he has won, but little does he know that this was my plan all along!
My mouth tastes like vomit but I can’t remember vomiting. I’ve spent the past 30 minutes sitting outside with the mole girl as she cried. I have no idea what she was crying about. Perhaps I overestimated my sexual prowess as all that ass-grabbing I did earlier has gotten me nowhere; if anything, it has just made things worse. I’m pretty sure a girl described me as “rapey”, which is apparently now an adjective. I’m going home.
Oh God… my head… I can taste ass… why have I got blood on my shirt? Must. Drink. Orange. Juice.
Ah, that’s better. What did I do last night? I should check my pockets. Nope, nothing in there. Geez, all that money wasted. Still, it must’ve been a good night if I can’t remember any of it, right? I’ll check Facebook.
“You are tagged in fourteen new photos”? Wow, must’ve been one helluva night! Let’s have a look… Click: Oh. Click: Dear Lord. Click: Who the f*ck is that? Click: Who’s that big guy strangling me? Click: What’s on this girls face? Click: Is that me crying?
I’ll just sign out of Facebook, phone in sick to work and go back to bed. I’m never drinking again. God I miss Suzanne.