If you were brutally honest... to your girlfriend:
“Stop calling me when I’m with the guys, then denying me sex later because I
didn’t answer your five phone calls. I don’t like leaving the car to hear you
ask what time I’m coming home because by the time I hear what one of your dumb
friends did, my seat at the bar is taken and I have to watch the rest of the
game standing. I’ll give you your eight minutes when I get them to you.”
"I love you enough to pretend to like it, but I’m only
letting you pound me for the cuddling."
“Don’t tell your friends about the
nice romantic things I do for you. It only takes one of them to
divulge my poetic skills during the
awkward after-sex silence with one of my buddies before suddenly
everyone’s having a good laugh and I’m the new pussy getting smacked
in the ass with a wet towel in the locker room.”
“There is no reason to celebrate being together for two weeks. Especially
since one week was midterms and I saw you once—at the library—and waved to you.
That kind of new 14-day relationship is nothing to celebrate. I don’t take my
buddies out on the same day every week since we met each other—and Wasted
Wednesday is a sacred day to be observed by all. So NO, it doesn’t count.”
If you were brutally honest... to your boyfriend:
“I’m faking it. Seriously. I love you enough to pretend to like it, but I’m
only letting you pound me for the cuddling.”
“I’d be more open to the threesome idea if you’d stop bringing it up at
inappropriate times. And stop asking me which one of my sorority sisters I would
invite to it during dinner at spring formal. I’m tired of trying to convince
everyone you’d never act that way sober.”
If you were brutally honest... to your parents:
“I need money. It will be used for fast food, beer, and concert tickets. Oh,
and the guys are thinking about hitting up the local strip club, so if you could
throw in an extra twenty of your hard earned money to put in the g-string of
Bonnie Bun-Buns I’d really appreciate it.”
“I am
spending Thanksgiving at school because I’d rather eat a turkey burger at
Denny’s with friends than endure the traditional Friday morning shopping
extravaganza with you, Aunt Silvia, and Grandma Marie, who you only bring along
because her portable respirator allows you to park in the handicapped spot.”
“No, I can’t teach either of you how to use MySpace. You’re smart enough to
find photos posted of me in my Strawberry Slutcake Halloween costumes in several
questionable positions that have already ruined any potential political career.
And frankly, I’d feel better leaving you with some hope.”
“Dad, it’s best if you just let by gones be by gones—your hair is never
coming back. I’d advise you to find a medium between a toupee and plugs because
that comb over has got to go. I’ve gotten my friends drunk and shaved off their
eyebrows, don’t think I won’t do it to you and shave your entire head. Mom, of
course, will deny everything, but she’ll be right there holding your head the
entire time.”
If you were brutally honest... to your classmates:
“If you’re pre-law or poli-sci, stop quoting obscure politicians and
historians to try and make yourself look smarter. Our professor may not read
Newsweek, but I do, and you got that quote from the quip page next to the
Jackass Bush caricature.”
“Dude, it’s not a multiple choice test. Please
stop trying to copy my essay. It’s already 75% bullshit, and I’m not wasting
my good 25% on your wandering eyes. If you were hot and a chick it’d be
different, but you’re not, so invent your own written diarrhea for the professor
to grade.”
“Don’t encourage the guy who farts in the lecture hall. It’s only
encouraging. It’s also not funny when you sit downwind of him, and can smell the
garlic hotdogs he ate for lunch.”
If you were brutally honest... to your crush:
“Why can’t you just like me? Seriously. What more do I have to do for you to
notice me? I’ve tried playing hard to get, made eye contact with you at the
game, chatted you up at parties... what else is there? Pouring imported beer
down my white shirt and asking you to suck what you can before it dries?”
“How can you seriously like the girl who slept with your roommate and your
best friend in the same week, but you can’t like me? Who’s the one with low
self-esteem? Because it’s supposed to be me, not you.”
“I don’t like you when you’re hanging out with your girlfriends because you
turn into a different person. You go from cool, relaxed, fun girl to ‘OMIGOD IS
MY ASS FAT? LET’S HAVE MARGARITA GIRL’S NIGHT WHERE WE WATCH CASTRATING MEN
MOVIES!’ in 2.1 seconds. And your voice gets higher when you’re around them too,
which just annoys the living shit out of me… but I really like you and am
willing to stick around for a while and hope you grow out of this valley retard
girl phase.”
