Shambles can be found either working on new recipes in the kitchen, making decisions that will inevitably give him incredible amounts of anxiety, and generally being a walking contradiction of a person.
I often try to defend (in my half-assed, “I’m obliged to do this” way) these “elite” schools by telling people who complain about the snobby students/grads that not everyone is like that, some people don’t even know what a trust fund is, etc. But sometimes, they’re not wrong.
*not getting laid and thinking you won’t. A lot of guys just can’t wrap their heads around the fact that you can stop smanging with someone without worrying about getting into the worst dry spell ever (word to California). I don’t believe that tho, I stopped sleeping with a girl who wanted to bone almost too much because things were weird and I haven’t gotten any action since, I regret everything
1. They just aren’t designed well. They get in the way, sometimes they ride funny in underwear, sometimes they got a be adjusted. Imagine small boobs between your legs that are more sensitive, but the closest thing they have to a bra is a somewhat tight shirt.
2. I’m just thinking about something stupid or inappropriate, and don’t want you to judge me. Like imagine the most inane, worthless thought you’ve ever had and add in lady butts. That’s 65% of my thoughts in a day.
3. Either push it down and pretend I’m not sick or play it up and try to get someone to hug me and care for me.
4. It can’t be as bad as the coldest I’ve ever been. Plus my body temp is like 99 goddamn degrees. Mind over matter.
5. This is actually really interesting to me. Besides the “durr, doesn’t matter had sex” thing I think guys just have this weird mindset of seeing sex as hard to get and women as generally uninterested. Which is dumb because girls like sex too. Combine that with an inability to read subtlety and signals girls send and you get a vicious cycle of not getting laid send
Never really thought about it before, but bachelor/bachelorette parties really have evolved from one night benders to multiple day ragers where post grads who actually made money out of college spend it and post grads who made very little money out of college spend it anyways. My heart is fine with this.
Looking back on my desperate job search in the form of traumatic flashbacks, this article brings up a few questions:
1. Why did interviewers constantly ask me those questions that were answered by my resume? I was pretty clearly reading off of it whenever I answered. Maybe they were testing if I could read upside down.
2. How come everyone else gives the half-windsor such a hard time? If I draw attention to my neck with a good knot people might notice that I subtly tried to ditch the top button (again) or that I messed up the dimple (again).
3. Does Tony ever regret not beer-bonging that vodka? I like to think he does, when he’s feeling particularly invincible.
Jury duty terrifies me. If I told my PI I was unavailable from 9-2 or whenever for a week or three he’d just laugh and tell me that lab is open 24 hours. Hey quick question; what’s the right amount of casual racism I can use in my interview to disqualify me from the jury but also not get me thrown in jail?
As long as I’m not that person watching some amazing thing though my phone screen (held above my head) instead of with my eyes I figure it’s okay. I’ll still occasionally split the difference by blindly holding my phone out and trying to estimate where the capture button is while I actually pay attention. Doesn’t make for the best pictures,but better than lugging around my camera and a bulky lens most of the time.
Also, obligatory “My boy Shibby wouldn’t check his phone during dinner with you”.
Pretty much. Don’t get me wrong, I admire and appreciate all the effort, but if push came to shove I’d have sex with someone in a Chuck E Cheese ball pit right after she finished up a Soulcycle session
Don’t forget about when you misjudge how far behind you someone is and end up awkwardly holding the door for 20 seconds because you can’t take it back or the door will close slowly and awkwardly close right as they get to it.
And I just don’t walk near women if I can help it, especially if no one else is around. Nah man, I’m big, black, and breathe heavily when I’m nervous. Long hallway with one woman? No thanks. Walking down the street? Let me cross and say hi to that nervous, shifty guy in a bulky coat, he looks like he could use some cheering up.
This is too real. I started setting my alarm clock 15 minutes earlier because that’s how long it takes to gather the will to stand, and push the daily unease down with the other emotions where they’ll quietly form an ulcer instead of making me feel things. Doctors tell people to sleep 7-10 hours a day but I work in a hospital and I don’t know a damn person who sleeps more than 6 continuous hours. Hell, yesterday I saw some med student asleep in some tiny chair in a corner. Seeing him awkwardly folded up in a desperate attempt to get just enough sleep to function made me so frustrated. That’s my nap corner, dammit.
The amount of things I’m putting into my system to keep me going (let alone what I do to get enough energy to go to the gym) is probably taking years off my life but at least it works. People can judge all they want as I pour a 5 Hour Energy into my black coffee, I doubt I’ll make it past 45 the way I work 7 days a week and binge drink like I’m in college again whenever I get the chance (the man wearing nothing but his underwear straightens slightly from his position over his laptop, eyeing the sparse collection of whisky and malt liquor on the corner of his desk. “Soon,” Shambles whispers to himself).
It’s okay though, because I have just enough time to catch up on The Bachelorette while eating a comically large bowl of cereal before crawling into bed at 8pm. Again.
As a biologist (technically) I approve this message.
As a post grad with an unreasonable fondness for cheap beer & liquor and combination Pizza Hut/Taco Bells I am going to continue ignoring this message.
Advertise
I often try to defend (in my half-assed, “I’m obliged to do this” way) these “elite” schools by telling people who complain about the snobby students/grads that not everyone is like that, some people don’t even know what a trust fund is, etc. But sometimes, they’re not wrong.
Homie didn’t you break up either her? This doesn’t make sense wrt 5, I’m confused
Fucking phone.
*not getting laid and thinking you won’t. A lot of guys just can’t wrap their heads around the fact that you can stop smanging with someone without worrying about getting into the worst dry spell ever (word to California). I don’t believe that tho, I stopped sleeping with a girl who wanted to bone almost too much because things were weird and I haven’t gotten any action since, I regret everything
1. They just aren’t designed well. They get in the way, sometimes they ride funny in underwear, sometimes they got a be adjusted. Imagine small boobs between your legs that are more sensitive, but the closest thing they have to a bra is a somewhat tight shirt.
2. I’m just thinking about something stupid or inappropriate, and don’t want you to judge me. Like imagine the most inane, worthless thought you’ve ever had and add in lady butts. That’s 65% of my thoughts in a day.
3. Either push it down and pretend I’m not sick or play it up and try to get someone to hug me and care for me.
4. It can’t be as bad as the coldest I’ve ever been. Plus my body temp is like 99 goddamn degrees. Mind over matter.
5. This is actually really interesting to me. Besides the “durr, doesn’t matter had sex” thing I think guys just have this weird mindset of seeing sex as hard to get and women as generally uninterested. Which is dumb because girls like sex too. Combine that with an inability to read subtlety and signals girls send and you get a vicious cycle of not getting laid send
Never really thought about it before, but bachelor/bachelorette parties really have evolved from one night benders to multiple day ragers where post grads who actually made money out of college spend it and post grads who made very little money out of college spend it anyways. My heart is fine with this.
My liver and bank account are not.
I’m pretty sure any marg would be the right marg for me after I’ve had six of them. You know what? It’s looking like a marg kind of night Shibby
Already got the IcyHot, Advil, and Ace bandages on standby. Don’t want to do this, but may as well be prepared.
I’d be happy with a donut too.
A lot less, but you know.
Looking back on my desperate job search in the form of traumatic flashbacks, this article brings up a few questions:
1. Why did interviewers constantly ask me those questions that were answered by my resume? I was pretty clearly reading off of it whenever I answered. Maybe they were testing if I could read upside down.
2. How come everyone else gives the half-windsor such a hard time? If I draw attention to my neck with a good knot people might notice that I subtly tried to ditch the top button (again) or that I messed up the dimple (again).
3. Does Tony ever regret not beer-bonging that vodka? I like to think he does, when he’s feeling particularly invincible.
4a. You ate THIRTEEN donuts in one sitting?!
4b. Will you marry me?
Jury duty terrifies me. If I told my PI I was unavailable from 9-2 or whenever for a week or three he’d just laugh and tell me that lab is open 24 hours. Hey quick question; what’s the right amount of casual racism I can use in my interview to disqualify me from the jury but also not get me thrown in jail?
As long as I’m not that person watching some amazing thing though my phone screen (held above my head) instead of with my eyes I figure it’s okay. I’ll still occasionally split the difference by blindly holding my phone out and trying to estimate where the capture button is while I actually pay attention. Doesn’t make for the best pictures,but better than lugging around my camera and a bulky lens most of the time.
Also, obligatory “My boy Shibby wouldn’t check his phone during dinner with you”.
I would let Iliza Shelsinger do unforgivable things to me…
Pretty much. Don’t get me wrong, I admire and appreciate all the effort, but if push came to shove I’d have sex with someone in a Chuck E Cheese ball pit right after she finished up a Soulcycle session
Don’t forget about when you misjudge how far behind you someone is and end up awkwardly holding the door for 20 seconds because you can’t take it back or the door will close slowly and awkwardly close right as they get to it.
And I just don’t walk near women if I can help it, especially if no one else is around. Nah man, I’m big, black, and breathe heavily when I’m nervous. Long hallway with one woman? No thanks. Walking down the street? Let me cross and say hi to that nervous, shifty guy in a bulky coat, he looks like he could use some cheering up.
I call it the “Shibby Shotgun,” satisfaction guaranteed. If you haven’t hit anything yet it means you’re not shooting enough.
This is too real. I started setting my alarm clock 15 minutes earlier because that’s how long it takes to gather the will to stand, and push the daily unease down with the other emotions where they’ll quietly form an ulcer instead of making me feel things. Doctors tell people to sleep 7-10 hours a day but I work in a hospital and I don’t know a damn person who sleeps more than 6 continuous hours. Hell, yesterday I saw some med student asleep in some tiny chair in a corner. Seeing him awkwardly folded up in a desperate attempt to get just enough sleep to function made me so frustrated. That’s my nap corner, dammit.
The amount of things I’m putting into my system to keep me going (let alone what I do to get enough energy to go to the gym) is probably taking years off my life but at least it works. People can judge all they want as I pour a 5 Hour Energy into my black coffee, I doubt I’ll make it past 45 the way I work 7 days a week and binge drink like I’m in college again whenever I get the chance (the man wearing nothing but his underwear straightens slightly from his position over his laptop, eyeing the sparse collection of whisky and malt liquor on the corner of his desk. “Soon,” Shambles whispers to himself).
It’s okay though, because I have just enough time to catch up on The Bachelorette while eating a comically large bowl of cereal before crawling into bed at 8pm. Again.
Bruh.
As a biologist (technically) I approve this message.
As a post grad with an unreasonable fondness for cheap beer & liquor and combination Pizza Hut/Taco Bells I am going to continue ignoring this message.
At least I know my boy André won’t pull this shit on me
Wait, it’s not 31% of your income leftover after rent? Oh god.