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Archive for October, 2008

Targeted

View Comments October 29, 2008 | JoshPerson

Last weekend I took a little trip uptown to my favorite store, Target, to make some purchases for my apartment. I typically take these trips to Target super early in the morning before the place gets packed. I think the reason I go so early is because I’m extremely secretive of my shopping lists. I don’t want to be walking around a busy store with tons of people ogling my goods. Not only that, but if I luck out and the check out person happens to be an attractive female I’ll have time to use my patented pick up technique (pay for my stuff, and then leave, playing hard to get) to possibly get them digits, yo.

Right when I walk in I check out the checker outers first thing. If the workers are attractive females I make sure to only buy manly stuff. If the workers are all old bitches I get the embarrassing purchases out of the way. I noticed there was a hot-ish chick working and decide to only buy dumbbells and coffee. The next thing I typically check out is the in-store Starbucks to make fun of all the small town Iowa fucks who think they’re “city”.

After walking around the store for a half hour, trying to figure out what I was going to say to this seemingly attractive lass, I decided it was time for her to check me out. As I approached the cashiers I noticed an old broad in an empty check out lane and some middle aged bald guy checking out with the semi-attractive individual. I had to think fast so I didn’t get the “I can check you out over here” from the old bitch. To remedy this problem I stood and stared at gum for 5 minutes until I was all clear to pre-bone this chick.

As I put my items on the far end of the conveyor belt situation, just to be cute, playful and difficult, she chuckled and said “did you find everything alright?”… It was so fucking on! I was going to reply with “now, I have” with a sly smile, but I tried to steer away from being the cheesy, generic, ladies man from any movie, ever. Then I actually looked up for the very first time and noticed that she’s not as attractive as I once thought. She was kind of attractive in an average way, with only mediocre sized boobies.

From then on it was a struggle inside my own mind of how to handle the situation. I could tell that she actually seemed to be into me a little bit. We had some banter back and forth, and I was making her laugh. Was it really worth it though? Then my mind started going crazy. My thought process was something like this:

Is this worth it? She’s moderately attractive, and she seems into me so I should. But what if I’m reading her being into me wrong, and instead she’s just doing her fucking job. Remember the coffee shop waitress who would always smile at me from across the room? Turns out she wasn’t really as obsessed with me as I previously thought. What do you suppose is the “attractiveness” to “being shot down” ratio is? I don’t know, it’s pretty much a coin flip. Wait, is this my mind’s way of being a pussy about the situation? Maybe she’s really into me, but my mind is in fear for no reason. Fuck it, I’ll go for it.

After I fell out of that weird mental conversation with myself I realized that I hadn’t really said anything to her in a while. As I was doing the self debit card payment thingy I decided to go for it. I said “Hey, you know what? I…” Then I stopped for a split second because I realized that there was some guy who just walked up behind me and was standing in line. What the fuck was I supposed to do now? Now I have an audience to my potential humiliation? So I tried to save it with “… do need some cash back…”

I left the store feeling dejected, awkward and humiliated. Then I realized that those people inside didn’t realize the whole drama aspect of the situation. Even if they did, fuck them. She works at Target after all, who’s she trying to impress? One thing I learned from this debacle is that I’m never going to Target again. I’m going to shop exclusively at Wal-Mart where decisions are easy. I’ve never seen one person in Wal-Mart that I would bang, except the 80 year old black greeter, but that’s just to prove that I’m not racist.

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Ask Josh – Whore Advice

View Comments October 23, 2008 | JoshPerson

This week I will discuss whores. I’m really thinking this whole whore thing is getting as about played out as the homosexual thing was a month ago, but at least it’s something I can relate to.

Okay, so I’ve a question for you. It’s a real brain scratcher. I am dating an old friend (yes old, 40) of mine from college who lives in DM, me in CR, part-time lover style but mostly I just want to bang my not-single coworker again, yeah I said it, again. Then there are these three other guys, blah blah blah. Yeah, so I am getting to the question…I want to know to why when it rains, it pours? And yes, I realize I am a whore and I am over it.

First, let me just say “wow”. We are really at a pinnacle of intelligence here at AbsurdlyAwesome.com. I’d like to think I have some of the smartest readers on the planet and I think this Ask Josh question is enough to prove it. I actually thought that I was close to mastering the art of unintelligible rambling, but it looks like I have a long way to go.

I guess my first piece of advice to you is to stop saying “yeah I said it”, like you’re some sort of renegade. Like you think that you’re shocking everyone by kicking open the door to the whore closet. Fucking a person who is currently married isn’t some sort of amazing feat. Actually, most people are unhappy in their marriage and they are looking for a way out, or to just escape for a little bit. It really would be harder to go out and get some stranger at a bar to catch AIDS from you. I’ve had exactly 300% more married chicks try to get me to cock them than I have single chicks.

The next part that is equally absurd is when you say “Yeah, so I am getting to the question…” and then you go right into the question. You would have gotten to the question a whole lot sooner if you didn’t tell me that the next sentence was a question. It’s sort of like leaving a note for somebody and then leaving your initials, followed by your full name in parentheses. What the fuck is the point of the initials if you write out your entire name anyways?

Then comes your awe-inspiring question, “I want to know why when it rains, it pours?” First a long story story about your whorishness that only seems shorter because you replace the majority of it with “blah, blah, blah”. Then you ask me a question about fucking precipitation? I don’t fucking get it.

Here is how I seriously dissect the whole precipitation question. All attractive girls have a stable of guys that will fuck them instantly at any given moment in their lives. The fact that you seem sort of surprised that you have so many partners has to be because you’re a fat slob and you’re not used to the attention. As for the reason you’re getting so many offers now in this moment of disgustingness? I don’t know. Have you gone to any truck stops lately? Perhaps you just started a job in a factory somewhere? Really, any place with dejected men who have lost all dignity, who just grow increasingly overweight and bitter and need to pop some disgusting slag such as yourself… Just a guess.

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The DC

View Comments October 20, 2008 | JoshPerson

When I was in the 8th grade my entire class got the opportunity to travel to the wonderful, Eden-like tropics of Washington DC. Was the Garden of Eden tropical, or was it like my moms garden filled with tomatoes and sweet corn? I have no idea. I’m not really up to date on folklore. Anyways, this trip was school sponsored, but it also cost money. It was really a perfect situation. I figured it would be me with all the rich hot girls in my class and I’d finally find out what a vagina feels like.

Much to my dismay not only did none of the hot, rich chicks sign up to go, but all the ugly, poor ones did. I sort of shrugged it off though because there wasn’t going to be one grown up per hotel room so I figured I could get into some shady shit after dark. The only problem with that, though, was it usually takes me years to convince a girl to even like me, let a lone have sex with me, so I’d be starting from scratch. That is why I not only brought along a fake Oakley fund, I also brought a hooker fund. Sure, I was only in 8th grade, but we’re talking hookers here, not exactly moral individuals.

The first day we were in DC we went to some monuments, got harassed by homeless dudes, blah, blah blah, who gives a shit. That night, however, I was on the fucking prowl. I decided I was going to get some action one way or another. I brought along a wing-man just in case hookers got moral all of a sudden so I could stand on his shoulders and break out a tall trench coat to seal the deal.

The first place we decided to check out was the pool area. Right off the bat I got disheartened as every girl there was already on some dudes shoulders. They weren’t wearing trench coats though, because that would just be strange. I would have ran up, put on my swimming trunks and joined the fun, but I figured if a girl did get on my shoulders I’d probably attempt to spin her around to the front and I’d be thrown in jail as a rapist or something.

On the way back into the hotel I heard some “slammin beats” and realized that there was a dance club inside this hotel. Only it wasn’t so much a dance club as it was a fucking shoe box. The place could only hold 10 people, all of which were dudes dancing to terrible techno music. I ditched that place almost immediately and headed toward my last hope, the bar. Isn’t that where all the whores hang out? Apparently not because it was practically empty except for a couple sweaty middle aged dudes watching “the game”.

I was downtrodden. I had no more plans, no more tricks up my sleeve. I decided to catch the elevator and either go back up to my room and jerk one out to Taxi Cab Confessions (if it was a “good one”), or go straight up to the roof to jump. As I got on the elevator a girl my age also got on. Without even saying “hi” she jumped in with “you guys, don’t go up to the 7th floor. There is a girl up there giving blow jobs for $5″. Interesting…

With absolutely no shame I immediately pushed the 7th floor button and was on my way to my dream. The only thing that could salvage the whole night. A blow job for $5? That’s fucking unheard of. I could have bought 25 of them while wearing 12 pairs of fake Oakleys with the money I saved from not finding a real prostitute. It’s weird because at this point I wasn’t even concerned about looks or how much money her family had. I truly feel that at that very moment I was in love. Even if me and blow job girl got married and she still charged $5 for each one that’s still an amazing deal.

When I got up to the 7th floor I started to panic. I don’t know if you know this, but hotel floors are basically just fucking hallways. So unless this girl was blowing dudes in the hallway, or the vending machine nook I was fucked. Not to mention the fact that the first person I saw was a fucking security guard who just stared at me. I awkwardly went to the soda machine, put in a dollar which it of course took 5 times for it to take, and got the fuck out of there and back to my room to watch Taxi Cab Confessions and oh yes, it was a very good one.

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