I've been shirkin' my duties recently, and for that I apologize. The reason for said shirking though has been my being busy at work recently and then feeling miserable afterwards. Fortunately, this has led to a revelation-- that I pick Chest Hair in the Workplace.
The week was long and terrible, but then something happened unexpectedly. I walked into the bathroom, let my comedy belt do the talking, and then stepped in front of the mirror to leave. It was then that I noticed plumes of my chest hair peaking out above the wrinkled collar of my undershirt. Just like that I felt better. Like I had one up on the world. I walked into the bathroom somber, and walked out like champion of the world. Maybe that's why dogs look so proud and happy after a walk-- they're just thinkin, "I'm ass-naked and just took a shit on your flowers, things are good..."
Anyway, I walked out sporting chest hair in the workplace. It was particularly prominent because I'm one of about 6 men who work in the office, and 5 of them have to wear ties everyday. So mine is the premier chest hair being sported in the office and it's great. I feel like I'm British and smarmy and the ruler of all things. How could anyone expect me to do some dumb project when I've got chest hair out and about. Clearly I am above such work.
Sporting the chest hair is a tiny victory. It says, "I fucking rule you" but in a more socially acceptable manner. Women have this with breasts, but it's not the same. Sportin' cleavage in the workplace says, "I rule you by demonstrating my subservience," and sometimes just, "I'm proud of my body and feel it is appropriate to express my freedom in the workplace," but that isn't a claiming of dominance so much as...what's the phrase...just freakin' awesome. Chest hair is not beautiful, nor is it attractive. It is a raw, ugly eff-you of power to not women, but the world. It breaks social folkways and weaves in the breeze. It is appalling and intriguing. Chest hair is tits with a handgun.
This is my tiny victory, but at least it is mine...and at least it's a victory. So go ahead and do it-- you'll be surprised at how great it feels.
Not Scorin' Any Points With the Ladies Today,
Witz
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4 comments:
DAMMIT!! I already had an unhealthy case of penis envy, now I have chest hair envy too??!! Sigh, I wish my tits had a handgun. By the way, big ups for using the word smarmy.
Sometimes, things can only be described as smarmy-- which it turns out is what the smurfs called their army when they attacked Gargamel, cut off his head, and later turned the skull into condos.
On a side note: was that you on my survivor blog that said something about myspace profile? If so, what do you mean?
Uhh, wasn't me. I made the comment about Brat Camp and starting a fire. I actually can't find a comment about myspace profile. Suuuspiiicious.
smurf army... good stuff, you smarmy english bastard. wait, am I being repetitively redundant w/ that description?
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