AWD was recently in an office waiting room that had a copy of Esquire magazine on the coffee table. I’ve seen magazines of this sort in the past and always chuckle at how some pencil-necked, New York wuss writer tries to write about what they imagine life as a man would be. As if they’d know! I guess these are the people that started the “metrosexual” fiasco in which males now try to be women with the only difference being standing up while peeing….or at least trying. The term “metrosexual” seems to basically signify homosexuals who reside in metropolitan areas.
These “mens” magazines are filled with worthless girly crap. Oh sure, they’ll tell you all the details of the latest $8,000 bicycle that is made of polybiometric tubular molecules or where you can buy a $4,000 Italian jacket that looks like something you saw on a homeless bum…if the bum was a homosexual bum in a metro. I went to Esquire.com to check out all the stylish acoutrements (look it up, Mikey) and saw they were discussing a $60,000 watch! Like any of the poofters reading Esquire will run out and buy a $60,000 watch! The only way I’d ever spend $60 large on a watch is if James Bond wore it and it controlled a guided missile! And then I wouldn’t!
Another area of interest in all these magazines is gourmet food and fancy wines and crap like that. Nothing says “poofter” to a first-date filly than for her date to order a lemon chicken almondini pasta with a volcanic vinaigrette on a bed of free range grown basil and sh*t. Another sign of poofterness is a male who says the food is “marvelous” and the dessert “was to die for!” Yum! Any of these terms and the curvy babe will know she’ll be opening her own doors but won’t have to worry about that good night kiss. What the curvy filly really wants is a man that will say, “Garcon, I want food! Big food! Keep it coming until the button on my pants shoots across the room and drills a hole in somebody’s head!” Womerns like that. Fillies got to eat too!