The Ghost of Valentine’s Day Past

Boston, MA – Here is a brief overview of our world as I see it: Meteors are hitting Russia. A guy with no legs who has no business having a model for a girlfriend killed his model girlfriend. The State of the Union was on the other night (but I was watching “The Following” with Kevin Bacon), and this guy above knows a thing or two about matching articles of clothing. Now, if that were me buying these sneakers, I’d have to make up an entire story at Dick’s (home of the reasonably priced Sporting Good if you are a millionaire), something like:

Me: “Hi, I was wondering if you have these bubble gum pink Asics in a size 12?”

Clerk: “For a man?”

Me: “Oh. No. What? Come on. These are for my wife.”

Clerk: “Your wife wears a men’s size 12?”

Me: “Yeah, what can I tell you, she’s like a Viking with a 7 pound trouser mongoose for a dick. What the fuck is this, NCIS: Danvers? Fuck off into the stock room and find me a size 12.”

Anyway, say what you will about this dude, but first, fuck you. Yeah, fuck you, that’s his attitude. Hand in pocket, other hand out, confident stance, and probably walks with purpose. This guy is a genius. Women love this kind of pre-planned wardrobe bullshit. I can almost guarantee this guy is getting his balls emptied out on the regular. What about you, Martin? Yes, what about me. I have 4 pairs of jeans and 6 gray t-shirts that look like ghosts live in the armpits. Half the time I have the appearance that I’ve been mopping the roof at Shawshank. You think a woman would want to smell my stinky dick all afternoon? No. They want a man that’s kempt. A man that is in complete and utter control of his wardrobe. Sure, this guy looks like he just tumbled out of a gumball machine, but I bet he had no problem getting a slippery Valentine handy last night. Respect.