No no, that is actually not me, I am sorry for any confusion that might cause
She was bikini clad, covered in oil, tanner then a Mexican laying on a piece of tinfoil and staring down at me with her 36 DD’s.
“This one?” the bodega owner said curiously, holding up the magazine.
Hotty McHot bodega man here rocks the blue vest, he is good with a register
I remember the first time I bought a men’s magazine I told my friend, “What better way to learn about men then by reading men’s magazines?”
“Well Kim,” She said. “You could actually date a man to learn about men.”
“No, no, no, no!" I yelled. “What kind of gibberish is that! Listen, I don’t have time for dirty socks and wiping away tears and potty training…I don’t have time to ‘date a man’ , I have work and a life and a serious cocaine habit to keep up with!”
When I started reading the actual magazine, I remember opening the crisp pages only to find something that I can only describe as shocking, disturbing and something that truly upset me to the core...there were articles about …wait for it…wait for it….feelings (who?)…
depression (what?).. social pressure (when?)...and anxiety(where?)…I thought maybe I had picked up a decoy GQ by accident. What the hell was I reading?! Men have e-motions? And feel-ings? BLASPHEMY!
What I imagine men's magazine to be full of, fashion wise of course,
I mean it looks like a replacement to the monkey suit, more durable,
lighter fabric, breathable, non-itchy...an all around good choice
Instead of articles on the predicted jock-itch, pictures of naked people dancing and Crayola drawings of superman and penises…there were actual words... words that contains letters... and these ‘words’ sometimes formed into sentences…were men actual human beings? Humans who bled? And felt things? And cared about actual things…such as, people? I couldn’t believe it! I can’t believe it! I shant believe it!
