God looked down on my parents and thought, hey there’s some fine genetic specimens; let’s use them to make an exceptional human being. And so God decided to use my parents’ union to make The Perfect Man.
This Perfect Man would be handsome and brave – fearless in fact. He would be all the things a stereotypical American Manly-Man should be: he would love simple foods that are bad for him, he would enjoy working out, being angry, watching sports, drinking beer, and treating women like objects. He would have few emotions, a short attention span, and a complete lack of empathy for others, especially for women.
And then God thought, oh bollocks, I think I went too far. This so-called Perfect Man shall be a plague upon women. How do I fix it?? I know! I’ll just do a quick sex change and make that little embryo into a woman instead.
Thus I was born. Fearless to the point of foolishness, gorgeous and vain, rage-a-holic, lover of sports (interrupt a Devils game and DIE), lover of beer, hater of all things female, completely emotionless, and morally bankrupt.
Good job, God.
So far today, I ate: cereal (140), coffee (10).
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