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Effortlessly Average

Sort of half-heartedly leading the charge into mediocrity since, oh, let's say around 1987 or so.

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Location: Roaming (additional charges may apply), Argentina

Proof that with internet access and a powerful laxative, even insipid people will blog; the place where your excellence and my mediocrity collide; where my Karma whips ass on your dogma.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Compared to A Cartoon, I'm Hung

I was sitting here about to write this heart felt post about my conversation with her last night, when I thought I'd pen - nay, type - a resply (that's my own word-vention for "response" and "reply") to the two people who were kind enough to leave comments on my last post. But, before I did, I noticed that I included a picture of myself in that post and it just so happened to line up with the WeeMee picture on my side bar, and it got me thinking (yeah, maybe I'm the one with ADHD, right? Not her?). Anyway, as I'm looking at those I'm wondering, does that WeeMee really look like me?

Well we both have a goatee, although I think mine looks better, so score one point for me. I've also got a more proportionate body. I mean really, my WeeMee has some damned short legs. I'll bet short pants go all the way to his feet. So we won't even comment on the size of his WeeNee, either. That's another point in my favor. Wait, make that two points. Any time you can say you've got a bigger WeeNee than the next guy, it's worth at least two points, even if that other guy is a cartoon. And by the way, look closely; why does it look like his fly is open? Now sit back and wonder to yourself "why the hell was I just looking really closely at a cartoon's crotch?"

Ok, so he's got a more visible six-pack than I do. But hey, I've still got one; I just keep it covered with this layer of blubber to prevent it from being scratched. He's also hairless on his chest, whereas I, being the manly man I am, have a healthy covering of fur for those lady types to run their fingers through.

I think the halo is over doing it, don't you? Coupled with those shades and that shit-eating grin, you just know he's been up to something. Which means he's exactly like me in that sense, althoug my halo is dented, tarnished, and doesn't glow quite so brightly as it did a few months ago. And he's got his Starbucks, also a reflection of me. Mmmmmm... grande non-fat two-pump white chocolate mocha with no whip. That's good eats there.

He's on the beach, too, which is where I want to be. Well, where I was, actually, but if that were a picture of me, you'd see dark clouds and high surf behind him. So maybe he's got me beat on that count.

What is the score now? 4-2? 6-9? 15-all? I dunno. Regardless of the score, I win because I have a bigger WeeNee than he does. Besides, at least my head isn't half the size of my entire body. How does he hold that mellon up? Must be why he's got no neck: it's been compressed into his torso by the weight of that bowling ball perched on top.

I do like his hair though. I wish I could get mine that color. But unfortunately people have this weird thing about trusting their finances to a guy who's hair looks like it caught the gout. Go figure.

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