I’m not saying I know everything about men, life or evacuation and emergency preparedness. But the first two I have a lot of interaction with on a pretty regular basis.
So when I see men oogling over one celeb piece of ass over another with consistency, it indicates trends that actually transcend simply hotness, but actually start to point at the character, identity, hopes and fears of the men doing the ogling. And that’s some interesting beef stew.
You eat a lot of sloppy joes. You like to peel pineapples with your hands. You once stuck your hands in some wet sand and couldn’t get them out and enjoyed it. You’re either smart and massively insecure or too dumb to realize how dumb the Kim K is. You enjoy spectacle, like that time a popsicle fell down your shirt and tickled your balls while that group of fourth-graders walked by. You once made out with a tranny at the bus station in Maryland, not knowing it was actually a man wearing ten pounds of make up.
Your buddy Mike’s mom used to make the best snacks for the team after softball. And one time she gave you more than a brownie. You’ve never been able to quite shake that. Your mom used to yell a lot. Then she would dance around in her underwear. You think the strongest women are in a bad mood most of the time. You have no pets because they make too much mess. And you’ve always wanted a puppy.
You dig through trash cans sometimes. For food and just because. You think getting a sandwich at 7-11 counts as grocery shopping. Having sex with a girl up against a tree is lots of fun. You’ve had more sex in the backseat of your car more times than in an actual room. You’ve worn shorts to weddings before. Everyone picks their nose, so why hide it? You call your girlfriend “baby” when you feel like it, and “Shut your mouth, you dumb broad” other times.
You own 74 cardigans and 36 tweed blazers. You have at least one pair of suede loafers and a flour sifter. You like to spend time in the Turkish sauna of your gym. You’re a member of your local bankers club. Deep down, you’d rather run off with the dude in your accounting department as he has such fabulous taste in post modern art and wine spritzer bars. You like Kirsten Stewart because she’s the closest thing on this list to another man and that’s okay with you… (and me too, dude, so why not just come out of the closet?)