Monday, November 06, 2006

Grades and girls

Grades:
Spanish - D
Sci 10 - C
Economics - C+
Psych - D
LS 10 - D
Accounting - C+
QMT - D

I can only say wow...

Anyway... I read this from Lorenzo's blog... and I think he got this somewhere.

A Nice Guy's Lament
We've dried your tears, listened to you whine and told you it was all going tobe ok. Well, we're done fitting the "Nice Guys Finish Last" stereotype.We've gotten together and decided on a few things:
First, we are sick and tired of listening to you cry, and simultaneouslylosing out in the girl department. How many times have we listened to youmope about finding "a nice boy who will treat me with respect," when we'restanding here in front of you? Oh yeah, that's right, because you wouldn'twant to "mess things up." That's the biggest bunch of crap we've everheard. Maybe if we were as muscled and refined as Mr. Frat Boy, you'd giveus a second look. Well, you know what, missy? Not all of life is like asoap opera. How long do you expect us just to sit here and listen to yourlife tragedies and not fall for you? Are you that blind? We are sick ofbeing just another "girl" friend.
Secondly, cut the crap. We know what you mean; if you want us to go awayfor a while, tell us so. Don't lie and say it's "girl's night out." Thisis crap, because the minute you see a hot guy, you're suddenly "on theprowl." At least we guys are straightforward: we're either "on the prowl"or playing poker; those are our two modes. Also, if you don't like us, sayso. None of this "Let's just be really good friends" malarkey; thistranslates from girl language to, "I'm sorry, but you're just reallyugly." If we don't ask you on a date, it is because we are intimidated byyou; don't make us any more nervous or anxious by rushing to be our"friend" when we like you.
Finally, if the guy are with is treating you like crap, LEAVE HIM. I knowyou don't want to because he is hot, in Beta, and has the "prettiest blueeyes," but HE IS A SCUM BAG. You need to wake up and see that he is ajerk. He will not get better. He will not change. We are experts inempathy (reading people), and know that people, for the most part, do notchange. If he stands you up routinely, yells at you, or cheats on you, heALWAYS WILL. Just as he will always do these things, you will always goback to him. It is like clockwork. He will effectively own you, and treatyou badly, and we will cry for you because of it. Please do yourselves(and us) a favor, and let him go; don't save this one. I promise you, heis not THAT cute, and the sex is not THAT good. Nothing is worth gettinghurt, and we nice guys really want to affix our steel-toed boots to theirskinny Abercrombie asses.
All told, we want nothing more than to show you what a "good" guy is like.You know, that good guy your girlfriends tell you about. Well newsflash,ladies WE ARE THOSE "GOOD" GUYS. You are dealing with an untapped resourceof quality date material, and we think we deserve our chance. You can'tdeny it; you always tell us how sweet we are, and how "romantic" our ideasare. Stop trying to hook us up with your peg-legged cousin from Timbuktu,we are friends with YOU, we want to show YOU the good time we can.
Unlike Mr. Muscles, we don't like you because your halter top is tight,and you looked nice under the strobe lights. We know the inner you; weknow everything there is to know about you. Your innermost secrets havebeen shared with us. So we don't have the best dance moves and can't bench250, so what? Who knows you better than us? Who can you trust witheverything? That's right, ladies, us. The Nice Guys. The "boys." Thisultimately leads to the question, what are you doing Saturday night?"


Ode to the Nice Girls
This is for the "I really like you, so let's still be friends" comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you've received from your female friends, for the nights they've reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you'd have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we've believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we'd have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don't think that they deserve more, because they've been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.
This is what I don't understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don't appreciate them and don't want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call... and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the "stalker chick" you'd met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this "nice girl" who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you're not looking for a nice girl. You're not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you're looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.
So don't say you're on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won't answer your catcalls, sometimes you're looking at a nice girl in whore's clothing - - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we're all thinking the same thing: "This isn't me. Tomorrow morning, I'll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I'll have slept alone and I'll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me." You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don't want the nice girl.. so don't say you're looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we're willing to extend - - but in return, we're looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they're running they're chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets... the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congradulatory hug (and yes, if she's a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won't matter), hoping against hope that maybe you'll realize that they're the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.
So maybe it won't last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we're waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what's a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)


I liked it... somewhat... ewan... haha! Basta!

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