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Girls in general are pretty scary you guys. They have parts we don’t and those big old behinds. At least 50 percent of the time they’re talking about their nails and their Lulu Lions I’m thinking about how fun it would be to turn that love compartment into a bomb shelter, fill it with soup cans, and crawl inside until I die from radiation poisoning. Come to think of it, I think the last conversation I had with a woman consisted of 10 seconds of stuttering and 30 minutes of crying. It’s hard out here for a pimp.
Girls with crazy streaks are exponentially scarier. Not only can they rock your bed like no other, they will also likely ruin your life forever. They are a stain on your manhood that is tough to get rid of because they will always be standing in the shadows ready to pounce. The problem is spotting which ones happen to possess the mark of madness. After countless hours of striking out, I have determined a sure-fire way to see the crazy. All it takes is a four-word lead-up.
“I am OBSESSED with (insert fucking anything)”.
The Kardashians. Fall. Baseball. Cats. Fire juggling dwarves on unicycles. Making your life miserable. It doesn’t make one bit of difference, although the last twos are big red flags. “Obsessed” is the mother of all buzz words, and we’re not talking about a mother who bakes cookies. This mother smoked a pack a day while she was pregnant and shows affection by using an open hand over a fist. This mom made its children become so OBSESSED with approval that they’re now OBSESSED with everything. Know what’s part of everything? You are, dude.
As we all know from such iconic films as The Roommate and Asa Akira Is Insatiable 3 obsession never ends well. There’s a fucking mental disorder associated with it and everything. Being the huge stud I am, I’ve had a few run-ins with obsessed womenfolk. One told me she was obsessed with fellatio. As soon as she said that I told her to get out. Now, you might be thinking, “but why, Karl? She would have fellated you into you couldn’t be fellated anymore.” And that’s the point. Can’t take chances, you know? Forget the fact that she was a nice girl who always paid for dinner. Her trust fund and the high-paying job she lined up for me were just a smokescreen, and I knew she would eventually stab fellatio while it slept. I noped out for you guys. You’re very welcome.
So I warn you, gentlemen, watch out for the girl who is “obsessed” with anything. You’re playing with fire and there’s a strong chance you’ll get burned on a delicate area. That one word can spell the difference between a fun Friday night and a never-ending cycle of fear, self-loathing, and death by sex. Trust me, I’m not crazy. I’m not..