The Mind of the Single Male (Hup)


The Mind of a Single Guy–again read as brain and self conversation

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Oh man, it’s morning.
Damn.
Oh boy.
Pitching a tent.

That was a solid Shakira dream last night.
Better take care of that.
Oops roommate is here.
Come on.
Leave.
Okay here goes.

(5 to 7 minutes later)

Ok, starting my day.
Gotta get clean.
This shirt should get me laid by day’s end.
Shampoo is better.
HAHA Damn Billy Madison is funny.
Is my thing really that small?
No. It’s not.
It’s the water.
But I thought that was cold water.

No. Gotta be hot.
Ok, time to dry off.
This shirt won’t get me laid.
Ahh fuck it, I wasn’t going to get laid anyway.
Shaving is cool.

Why do girls complain about shaving their legs?
I damn near rip my jugular every morning.
Boobs.
Jugular is a funny word.
So is mustard.
I guess a lot of words are funny if you think about it.
Mustard.
I’m hungry.
Need sandwich.
Shit.
Class in 20 minutes.
Lots of time.
Boobs.
Oh yeah, hot girls in class.
Get there early, see boobs.
Boobs?
Ok.
Sandwich later.
God it’s cold.
Cold enough for hard nipples.
Boobs.
The elevator is the most impersonal place in the world. No two random people who meet on an elevator will ever like each other.
This is the gayest looking dude I’ve ever seen.
He probably still gets laid more though.
Yeah.
To guys.
HAHA, good one, brain.
Oh, figures, I get off the elevator, hot girl gets on.

I need a beer.
Beer later.
This class is so boring.
I bet this professor gets laid more than I do.
Yeah.
To guys.
That’s getting old, brain.
Whoa, this kid next to me is falling asleep.
He’s bobbing his head.
Oh, he’s out.
Violent shake is coming 3 2 1.
HAHA.
This may very well be the most boring moment of my life.
How can they subject us to this.
Didn’t Nazism die out?
Nazis were dicks.
Yeah.
That’s a shame. I bet more people would still wear Adolf’s moustache if he wasn’t such a dick.

Like Robert E. Lee’s?

Robert Lee was cool.
Was that the Civil War?
God, I’m so horny.

This is unhealthy.
This class has gotta be almost over.
Jesus.
45 minutes?!
Thank god that’s over.
I need food.
Sandwich.
Eat.
Swallow.
Hey, why don’t I check out the away messages of everyone on my buddy list?
, , , , , , , , .
I gotta use the toilet.
#1 or #2?
Hmm, I’ll surprise myself.
When it comes right down to it, Faith Hill and Shania Twain may very well be the ultimate 3-way.
Stop thinking about 3-ways. Concentrate on a 2-way.
Like lesbians? No, like you and a girl…but come to think of it…lesbians are hot.
Yeah they are.
I wonder if football players ever shit themselves at the line of scrimmage.
Like, if their cleat slips in mud do they shit themselves?

That would be hilarious.
I would fake an injury.
You think that’s why there are so many injuries?
You’ve played football before, you’ve never been injured.
I’ve also never shit myself.
In football or in life?
In football, obviously. I’ve shat myself on a number of occasions.
Like, recently?
Oh, no, back in the day.
I could go for some “Ain’t Nothin But a G Thang”.
Word.
Ok.
Flush.
How did the Lucky Charms thing go again?
Uh, hearts, clovers, stars, rainbows.
No no.
I think it was that.
No, it had rainbows.
I said rainbows! Rainbows, hearts, stars, clovers, balloons.
I don’t even think I can spell balloons.
God, you’re stupid.
You’re the brain, dumbass.
Shit, class in 10 minutes.
Screw it.
Play Madden.
Good idea.
Isn’t there a paper due?
Tomorrow, damn, gotta start that.
Madden first.
I need a beer.
Can’t.
Not on a school night.
Who made that rule?
I did.
Why?
I dunno.
Is one beer gonna kill you?
Is it peer pressure if I’m trying to coax myself?
Hey, Socrates, quit waxing philosophical and have a beer.
Phone is ringing.
Maybe someone wants to have sex with you.
No one who would call me would wanna have sex with me.
You never know.

Shit.
It’s my mom.
Jesus, you were talking about sex with your mom.
Shut up.
Mom wants to know why I’m not in class.
Tell her you’re sick.
Umm, stomachache.
What is this? First grade?
I wonder if my parents still have sex.
Don’t think about that. That’s how people get warped.
Dinner.
Need food.
Ugh.
Cooking.
This is why people get married.
Why? Your dad cooks.
True.
Shit.
Now I need that beer.
No beer!
Ahh god!
Boobs?
Haha, same as always.
Might as well go to bed.
Can’t sleep.
Umm, formulate your list of 100 girls you wanna sleep with.
Ok.
100. Reese Witherspoon.
99. New school Punky Brewster.
98. This is dumb.
I’m going online.
Everyone is in bed.
God, it’s only…damn it’s 1:45.
I have class tomorrow.
Why don’t you do that diary thing?
Oh, yeah, how about a point by point list of thoughts from your day?
Good idea, brain.