10. Women athletes - Not to sound sexist, but, no, wait. This is meant precisely to sound sexist. Sorry, the whole women in sports
thing is weird and kind of unfair. I don't think it's right that colleges have to put up as much money for women's sports as they do for men's, when men's have proven to
be far more of a profit turner. Wait, college aren't supposed to be concerned with a profit? Ask my dad that one, when he's writing tear-stained checks to Northeastern for
another semester of financial rape. Second, here's a little fact for you, courtesy of the great Bill Simmons. The WNBA draws comparable ratings to the XFL, and yet the XFL
was pulled after a month, and the WNBA has been around for 6 years, diking up the sport. Aren't NBA players pussy enough without an entire women's league? When it takes
your league ten years before the first dunk, maybe it's time to pull the plug. Oh, one final note: If the course is owned by a private club, and that private club decrees
that only men may join, that means all golf played in the club will be men only, as per rules of the club. What's the mystery? Women, start your own club. Get off the
course, Annika.



9. Fatties in Denial - As long as I'm being a complete sexist ass up here, might as well cause a few eating disorders. Listen, ladies, if you're tipping the
scales—and by "tipping the scales", I mean, you could bake a pizza with your ankle fat—please do us a favor and not wear skin-tight clothes around. It's like
looking at a goddamn butcher shop!



8. Uggos in Denial - I was born with a weird birth defect called ugliness. (My mom smoked crack). Anyway, knowing this, I play the personality card pretty hard. Most
ugly people are aware of this, such that very attractive people play the sexy card with their good looks and mojo and shit. So, if you're in fact the personification of a
whale queef, maybe you should not be a complete douchebag with a capital Vinegar, and lay off the lemons. Bitterness is a stinky perfume.



7. Drama Queens - A few columns ago, I mentioned how I love drama. This holds true. But I hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE drama queens. Hate 'em like Jeter. These are
the girls who regale me in idiotic tales of the sea such as these classics: "She Stole My Man," "That Whore!" and my personal favorite, "She's Trying to Destroy Me." Get
over yourself, it's clear your life isn't that interesting, so stop fantasizing that you live in Orange County, 90210. Get a job.



6. Ghetto Skanks - Hey, Beyonce, wiggers are bad. Wiggirls are worse. Put away the cubic zirconium bling, clip your fingernails so that they are slightly less long
than your forearms, and stop dislocating your jaw gabbing because you have a fistful of gum in your mouth that you're chewing on harder than a Maine resident on his
sister's ear.



5. The Hottie's Bitch Friend - I abhor these hoes by association. Why must girls travel in packs? You're not rabid wolves, damnit. Rabid wolves are kind, and have
better things to do than watch American Idol. Not only that, but when I want to talk to a girl I find attractive, she is usually busy with her hoesbeast of a buddy. It's
like trying to beat the boss in a video game, and having some asshole come over and shut the system off.



4. The Zero to Bitches - What's with these girls who consider it cool to be a bitch? Some girl will say something particularly dickish, and I'll retort, and she
says: "I'm such a bitch, teehee!" Fuck you. Just because you're single-handedly responsible for the success of Tampax, it's nothing to brag about.

3. Attention Whores - Hold on while I exhale my rage. Ok. Girls, you really need to do something about the attention obsession. It's
irritating. Sometimes, other things take priority: beer, Playstation 2, the Red Sox, masturbating, etc. Guys, we like attention too. But you know how we alleviate that?
Lots and lots of moisturizer.



2. Daddy's Girls - Listen, sweetheart, I'm glad daddy gave you five ponies for your fourteenth birthday because "Gee whiz, they all looked so cute, we had to get
them all!" Welcome to the real world hun, and newsflash, you have to eventually stop bothering your dad for money and compliments, because you're finally out of the house
and he wants to bang your mom in the backseat of your Beamer. My dad had three uses for me: 1) Stare at the pool with him on Sunday mornings for no real reason at
all.  2) Beer distribution (and yes, I put that on my resume). 3) Not pissing off mom. That's it. And I turned out great.......I need a hug.



1. Feminists. Just be happy we let you vote. Now, back in the kitchen! (God, I love pissing off the feminists.)


*This column will also be used for an upcoming article entitled: "Why I Don't Have a Girlfriend."

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