I've been a Bachelor too long.

I’ve kind of realized I’ve been a bachelor too long lately and have come up with a list of things I’ve noticed about, it goes a little something like this.

You know you are an old broken down bachelor when...

You have more ice packs in your freezer to ice yourself down after a workout than actual frozen foods.

Your refrigerator contents consist of Catsup and a left over wine cooler that you don’t remember buying.

Your idea of a home cooked meal is Bob Evans because all the waitresses know your name and you’re too dumb to make meatloaf by yourself.

You go to the gym on a Saturday night expecting it to be crowded but realized all those fit people who workout at weekdays noon are out fucking each other, and only the ten of you with no social life and a lot of weight to lose are here working out. But hey we’re trying!

The two trainers at the gym watching the place have that mall of the damned employee spaced out look on their faces and you know they are thinking “why aren’t I out fucking someone instead of here monitoring fat people for heart attacks?

You Saturday Night revolves around the phase “Live from New York.... It’s Saturday Night.

The 40 Year Virgin isn’t so much a movie as it is a documentary about your life minus the cute girl that works across the street that you end up with. And the Oscar Goldman doll that you really wish you had.

Your idea of a fun date is a trip to the porn store and a DVD rental.

Your idea of getting lucky is getting spam on facebook with pictures of beautiful women you don’t know that have friended but are really viruses that want to steal you personal info.

The last time you really cleaned your house is not in this current calendar year.

You think an active social life consists of arguing whether ankle articulation is really necessary in action figures with friends via message boards or chat rooms.

You pull a shirt out of the laundry hamper and smell it and think, “this smells okay, and I think can wear it one more time.”

You think stepping over piles of laundry is still easier than do it.

You only do laundry when you are absolutely out or clean underwear and socks, and when only do whites because there are plenty of t-shirts with comic book characters on them that are clean still hanging in the closet.

You don’t buy new underwear or tennis shoes until they almost completely falls apart.

You still think a sock with a small hole in it is wearable, I mean it’s in the toe who will know?

And finally, you have nothing else to do on a Saturday Night’s except try to write comedy pieces for your blog/website that no one will really see anyway.



Comments

[pooty]

sounds pretty familiar, minus all that gym stuff.