According to their survey, men hate when women wear beanies, floppy hats, hair bows, open-side shirts, oversize sweaters, shoulder pads, peplums, bandeau bikinis (“they just make your shoulders look like a linebacker”), bright lipstick, heavy eye makeup, fake nails, bangles, pointy-toed shoes, wedge sneakers, ultra-high heels, fold-over ankle boots (“it looks like the shoes have foreskins”), high-waisted jeans, high-waisted shorts, high-waisted skirts (“it lacks a certain degree of subtlety”), pantsuits (“you’re a woman, not a man”), drop-crotch pants (“really, any loose fitting pants,) and mullet dresses (“I just don’t get it — where’s the fucking party??? You are covering the back!”). The question is how to wear all of these things at once.
These guys don’t know each other. They literally sat together just because they were both wearing stripes.
The blue guy walked in and stopped and was like “Yo! Stripes!” And the red guy started nodding and was like “striiiiiiiiiipes”
Boys are fucking weird
Outside England ‘s Bristol Zoo there is a parking lot for 150 cars and 8 buses. For 25 years, it’s parking fees were managed by a very pleasant attendant. The fees were £1.40 for cars and £7 for buses.
Then, one day, after 25 solid years of never missing a day of work, he just didn’t show up; so the Zoo Management called the City Council and asked it to send them another parking agent.
The Council did some research and replied that the parking lot was the Zoo’s own responsibility.
The Zoo advised the Council that the attendant was a City employee.
The City Council responded that the lot attendant had never been on the City payroll.
Meanwhile, sitting in his villa somewhere on the coast of Spain or France or Italy … is a man who’d apparently had a ticket machine installed completely on his own and then had simply begun to show up every day, commencing to collect and keep the parking fees, estimated at about £560 per day — for 25 years.
Assuming 7 days a week, this amounts to just over 7 million pounds … and no one even knows his name.
The fact remains that I will be able to drink legally before I can drive legally, which to a lot of people seems incredibly backward and strange. It messes up the linear order that we’re supposed to live within, and generally leads to a lot of questions and misconceptions. Me not driving is something I should be embarrassed about, some indication that I “messed up” by being too lazy or too dumb or too something. It invalidates my accomplishments and reverts me back to a dependent fifteen-year-old in the eyes of judgmental people. But the honest truth? Not driving doesn’t make me any less of a responsible adult than anyone else my age. Sure, my lifestyle might be different if I had a car, but that doesn’t mean it would be better. My lack of driver’s license isn’t a handicap.