Alright, you all know the dillemma that faces me. Any guy who's lived with other guys, (...and girls, you probably know too) knows the feeling of dread when they stroll into the bathroom, reading material gleefully a-tow, and stare woefully into the black-cardboard-hole of despair that was the last of the toilet paper. Oh, yeah, the roomate who so clearly was here before me probably had some clever MacGuyver like scheme to fold and refold the last square of TP into a contrived samurai sword of excremental expunging, thereby asserting his strategic position as "last to have used the bathroom". But now, in my moment of need, I lack the raw materials with which to make so elegant a maneuver. The burden falls on me to be that guy

( This post is double quilted... )

I am not, however, a buffet of manliness. Much to the chagrin of
Milky Way(s) everywhere. See, a buffet is a low-cost substandard method
of food acquisition typically employed by the impoverished, unhealthy,
or lazy. And, yes, while a buffet does offer a wide range of choices
and seemingly unlimited quanitity to the savvy consumer, what it lacks
is the real heart and soul of what it means to be food. It lacks the
focus and humble perfected simplicity found in a single portion
prepared meal. It ain't got no taste, it ain't got no class, and by the
transitive property of Brando, is therefore not a contender.

But
Jason, you're like, the most manly person I know, though! What food
analogy/homonym could you be besides the ubiquitous buffet?!

Easy
friend, no need to panic! Though oft confused for "buffet" in speech,
I am a Pafait of Manliness! Parfait, of course, coming from the french
for perfect (nobody that speaks French can be bad, right?). A parfait
is the pefect end to the perfect meal. An exquisite balance of tastes
and textures that not only is a course in its own right but compliments
and supplements those portions previous. The parfait is not a
dessert, it is an experience. A synergistic expression of what it means
for a meal to come to the conclusion in the right way. Like a flag
stuck in the conquered territory of your own darkest, deepest, most
personal levels of human statisfaction. That is what kind of
"manliness" I stand for. Not the manliness that comes with a fountain
soda and all the heat-lamp-warmed beef you can shovel into your
spork-hole. Oh no. I'm the type of "manliness" that makes you wish you
had saved more room for me, that makes you wish you could start the
night all over again just so that the entire experience of building up
to the crescendo of my "manliness" could take place all over again.
'Cause that's how unforgettable my manliness is.

So I say to you, are you a buffet of manliness? Or are you a parfait of manliness?

lol, blogging

You stay classy, teh LJ.