Thatï¿½s When the Laneï¿½s Changed for Good
When did this all become a battle? When did women become so complicated, when did men become so vacant? When did guys lose their gentlemanliness, and decide that woman only want pricks who jam up to yoï¿½ booties in crowded bars? When did the hair-gel-black-leather-jacket take hold, and can we transport ourselves back to one week before that? How come guys donï¿½t just walk into bars wearing slightly wrinkled oxford shirts and day old stubble, no cologne anymore? PS. That makes you more attractive. Whatï¿½s wrong with today? Why do I have to be nervous for his place in my life? Why do I not own more bling? Why can the only ï¿½niceï¿½ guys be the artisticpoetdepressedartist types who then want to throw themselves off cliffs should you break up with them, or want to ï¿½have an open relationshipï¿½ with their exes? How come no one likes short guys in corduroy jackets? Why do I feel guilty when someone wears glitter? Why does my money disappear like butterflies, even the safety tucked fund in my boots? Why was the line for the ï¿½pizza as big as my faceï¿½ place so long? Why do I not see my friends more often? Why do I not still play volleyball, I liked it at one time? Why did that guy yell at me for using the menï¿½s restroom when him and his girlfriend were doing naughty things in there just minutes before? Why do I love some people so much it hurts? Why donï¿½t I take more next-day naps with my favorite person in the whole world, who according to H. Simpson/him calls me ï¿½my best friend, and I get to touch her boobies!ï¿½ Why does that same effing coworker always ask me to eat barbeque with him? My friend Shannon and I refer to him as FBD.
Why? Why why why? And why, then, are you here talking to me?
I went out on Saturday.
The frog is gone and that is distressing.
I donï¿½t know when the dawn will come, I open every door.