The Manwhore got a last minute offer to go to Miami for Superbowl. He didn’t go to the game, but instead sat in a bar there rather than here, and watched it on a plasma. We traded text messages all weekend to the tune of:
Him: It’s 75 degrees here
Me: Go to hell. It’s 0 here
Him: I hung out with the Colts Cheerleaders last night
Me: I kicked your brother’s ass on Madden. We’re 2-2 now.
Him: I stayed at Space until 9 a.m. There weren’t any girls there. The Colts cheerleaders are the hottest ones here.
Me: I went to dinner last night but it was too cold to go anywhere else. Any celebrities?
Him: Yeah, that Stacy Kiebler chick from Dancing with the Stars.
While the Manwhore was gone, I probed his brother for information on their background. I mention this casually, but this is breaking news considering none of us ever knew what the Manwhore brothers’ ethnicity(ies) was/were.
So, without further ado:
Mama Manwhore is Mexican and Cherokee.
Papa Manwhore is Hungarian, French and Irish.
No wonder those bastards can pass as any nationality they want. They’re everything.
Yesterday I went to watch the game with BaconJew. There isn’t much to report other than the fact that all of his friends are Muslim Arab guys (who grew up in the states). When we walked through the door, they greeted us, “Hey, it's the Jews,” [evidently I was Jewish by association...or job hazard] to which BaconJew responded, “You’re just a bunch of dirty Rabs.” It went on like this the rest of the night, with BaconJew calling his Iraqi pharmacist friend “Sadaam” while simultaneously dodging the imaginary stones that his Palestinian friends were throwing his way. I laughed my ass off.
The Iraqi pharmacist is afraid of his mom. He’s 30-years old, owns his own apartment in the city, works two jobs making well over $100K a year, but won’t tell his mom that he owns an apartment. He either goes to his parents’ house to sleep every night or makes up some excuse along the lines of, ‘I have to work late.’ His friends find this high-comedy, but then he reminds them that his girlfriend was a virgin before he got to her and they all back down, knowing they're dating sluts (err, non-virgins, that is).
The relationship these guys have is the exact depiction of what I think things could be like if everybody embraced their silly stereotypes and stopped taking everything so damn seriously. The End.