12 December, 2005

MySpace personified

There are a lot of different types of annoying people. There are the people who stare over your shoulder while you are on the computer. There are those who constantly need to be included in whatever conversation is going on. There are those kind of people who feel it necessary to tell everyone how much they drank last night. There's the dude who gives the middle finger (alternately, the metal sign) in every picture taken of him. There's anybody who wears two collared shirts at the same time, especially with collars popped. But there are also those people who just annoy the shit out of you and you can't quite figure out why. There's a guy like that in one of my classes.

He's that dude who always wears his hat backwards and his sunglasses on the top of his head. He's definitely that dude who has the fraternity jacket on, and the fraternity t-shirt underneath. He's that guy who wears a lot of jewlery, but isn't Italian. The other day I kind of pinned down why I find him so annoying, and I felt like a great success. The guy is annoying in the same way a MySpace page with way too much going on is annoying. Like, one of those pages with 6 different videos, a background picture that makes the text indecipherable, huge pictures that stretch the whole page out, and an imbedded loop of some horribly sacharine pop song that you can't make stop playing. The kind of page that when you visit it freezes your whole computer.

That's how I feel when I am around this dude. He is the worst MySpace page ever, personified. He talks a lot, often about nothing. I'm not sure if he's just way into himself or doesn't like silence. He also talks to anyone, about inappropriate topics as well, such as, say, to me about how hot some girl that walked by is. He's just a wierd dude.

Also, if you type Frat Guy in the google search engine, you get a lot of pictures of gay dudes. Kind of appropriate, I suppose.

So a few days ago Gwen and I were sitting behind a couple of dudes at the Treetops Dining Hall, and I mean 'dudes.' These guys were Philly dudes, through and through. By that I mean they had short hair, a diamond stud earring, and were wearing sweatpants. Oh yeah, and they sounded pretty dumb when they spoke, let's not forget that.

So we finish eating and go outside, and started talking about the different types of guys in each city. You see, there are Philly Dudes, like the ones we shared a pleasant dining experience with. There are New York Dudes, and there are Boston Dudes.

I was theorizing to Gwen that what defines a 'dude' generally is the team affiliation. That's what makes them easier to talk to than the gentleman in the previous few paragraphs. As long as you can talk about sports at all, you can carry out a conversation with a 'dude.' Anyhow, Gwen and I talked about how both New York and Boston 'dudes' are fervent baseball fans, and how Philly 'dudes' really are football fans. That said, we agreed that New York and Boston 'dudes' are a little crazier, since they have, at minimum, 162 different times to cheer on their team, and that the off-season on baseball is much more publicized than football. Philly 'dudes,' though they may only have a minimum of 16 games in which to root, are still insane. I think the insanity in that case is more concentrated, the dudeishness more apparent.

Anyhow, I made the comment that what can most often be heard from any Philly dude's mouth is "Yo, let's go to the bar and drink some beers. Are you watching the Eagles game?"

No sooner had I said that than the two gentlemen from dinner walked out. One turns to the other and says "Yo, let's go drink some beers." No lie. I couldn't have asked for a more fitting conclusion to a conversation had I tried.

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