PlatKat.com

Having moved from Chicago to Baton Rouge, and having been consequently disgusted with the South and moving again, I have some choice words for the dunces we see wallowing in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Louisiana was already hell on earth, plagued with laziness, unacceptance, stupidity, and thoughtlessness; this just gave us a reason to show the world. Everyone has their own opinions about the victims of Katrina and what should be done. And if you’re realistic like me, you know that sharing them profusely doesn’t make a difference at all. So, knowing that my best friend and former college mates are safe, I will discuss another topic today.

Why does every woman in my age category think their group of friends is “the wildest, craziest group ever”?

“When my girlfriends and I get together, look out world! We’re so crazy!”

First, if I cannot clearly infer that you’re “wild” based on your behavior and you find it necessary to verbally inform me of your hijinx, I am automatically unimpressed. That information was unsolicited and most likely untrue.

Next, when the topic is pressed further (I am a glutton for punishment), usually by a disbelieving look that I can’t even force myself to hide, the stories come out. They are usually very unimpressive stories.

“We danced on a table!”

“I laughed so hard I spilled my drink!”

“So-and-so flashed her boobs!”

Wow, that’s crazy. No one else in the history of partying has ever done those things. And I’m sure if anyone has, it was definitely way funnier when you did it! Because you and your friends are a one-of-a-kind, crazy group that’s always where the action is. That’s why your retarded house party is the most boring one I’ve ever been to, and these crazy friends of yours couldn’t party their way out of a paper bag. And paper bags are really easy to party out of.

A level above those types are the groups of girls who go out, desperately seeking a way to publicly reaffirm their independence… by clinging to each other in a massive cattle herd of black skirts and bangle bracelets all night long. They only drink about one martini each, but they talk louder than everyone else in the joint and dramatically react to each other’s bullshit stories to show off just how much fun they’re having.

Then there are the fake lesbians. Ah, fake lesbians… a good substitute when you can’t find real lesbians, right? Not so much. Fake lesbians are unoriginal attention whores who are neither attractive nor witty, but for some reason feel entitled to the spotlight at clubs and parties.

I’m not suggesting that actual gay and bisexual people hide their affection for each other in public. Girl, if you like girls and want to dance with girls, you go girl! But if you’re just some dull, homely chick who wants to get attention by dry-humping other dull, homely chicks, everyone can tell right away. You don’t look “wild” and “cool”, you look uncomfortable and silly, so knock it the fuck off.

The bottom line is, unless we’re snorting coke at an afterhours club at 7 in the morning, watching a Mexican donkey show, swinging naked from giant chandeliers, having massive group sex involving whips and chains, getting drunk in an underground brothel, or engaged in some other form of illegal debauchery, I really don’t want to hear how crazy you and your friends are. In fact, if we’re doing any of the aforementioned activities, you probably won’t be able to tell me anything because you’ll have a straw up your nose and a dick in your ass, and that’s just fine with me.