Standards...

Everyone should have standards. Even I have standards, despite my track record. I feel that the best view of my actual standards can be best viewed by three women, two of them being my most recent endeavors, and one being (description omitted). One of the women, “The Norwegian” I like to call her, was just that: a fairly hot Norwegian woman. She was blonde haired, blue eyed, deliciously thick, and on her way out of the country in a few days. The next would be a girl whose ethnicity I can’t really call out as of yet… but she was pretty hot and definitely worth showing off. The final girl would be (description omitted). Fucking bombshell, hottest girl I’ve ever had sex with, and by far my favorite. I would…

But I digress. The problem with standards, is that too many factors need to come together for you to actually get what you want, depending on how high your standards are. My standards usually start at an all-time high, and then plummet like Enron stocks after about a month of chronic masturbation and potential missed opportunities for sex. At that point I’m just shooting in the dark for something two legs and a vagina (legs optional). Once I break that drought, usually with some kind of a stroke of luck (luck is not the name of my penis), I go back to chasing after super models and video vixens and foreign dignitaries. The reality of it is that standards aren’t this solid line that can and will never be crossed broken or bent. That most important part is figuring out what you won’t do, and not as much what you want to do.

People of our generation (in America) have such a warped view on standards that they generally have no idea what the will and won’t do until someone famous tells them what’s okay. Everybody wants celebrities to tell them whether or not it’s okay to forgive an abusive boyfriend. Or if it’s okay to stop wearing super baggy pants and start buying them at least 10 sizes too small. Or if  it’s okay to be “different” like everyone else, and start wearing lenseless glasses and leopard print jackets. Or if anyone should care anything at all about trying to save money to get a car they can actually afford, and clothes that fit and maybe a retirement plan… and maybe a career to retire from. If anyone would actually set their own standards, they might have a chance to see when they’re being made to look like idiots. It’s none of your business if Rihanna wants to forgive Chris Brown. If your standards are “I will not forgive a man who abuses a woman” then you just might be able to make up your own damn mind about your own damn life. Maybe if you decided “I will never wear pants that I have to sag below my ass in order for them to touch my shoes” then maybe you might not be incapable of getting an erection right now. Maybe if you decide that “Hey, I really like fat chicks man. Maybe you should say “I’ll never leave the house without a condom. Just saying…

It’s really a lot about that whole “stand for something-fall for anything” shtick. You gotta know when to bottom out. Otherwise, you’ll find yourself balls deep in a threesome with two Thai tranny/prostitutes, with no condom, because they told you they were on the pill, and you’re going to realize it’s too late. Your condom is in your pants and your pants are on the floor. And then there’s no going back.