B is for Beer Goggles

I'm ashamed to admit it ladies, but last night I had a terrible case of the beer goggles.

This morning I woke up hung-over, cotton-mouthed, and still half-stoned. I was about to reach for the hair of the dog that bit me when I turn over and see the hairiest, pudgiest, smelliest male specimen I have ever seen in my life (and I've seen a whole lot of them). I rushed to the bathroom to try to bleach myself clean and hack up the hairballs. After taking a hot shower and gargling mouthwash for half an hour my memory finally returned. He definitely did not look like that last night!

This is how it went down:

Me and Vulvatron went out to some bars as we are accostumed to every Monday. We were doing the usual, buying some Jaegerbombs for dumb fratboys, dancing all seductively, you know working the club. I had past my limit when I downed my 5th martini, but Vulvatron kept egging me on so I went with it. Then some thick necked jocks tried to engage me in a chugging contest-I kicked their sorry asses of course, only after stealing a kiss from the hottest one. So here I am, drunk, but not quite incoherent, my game wasn't suffering, and horny. Vulvatron, who I wholeheartedly blame for the outcome of the night, points out this guy across the bar. She grabs my hand and walks over to him, then abandons me when he starts talking to us. I of course, will take anything I can get at this point and proceed to completely ignore any POA in the bar, except for this guy, whom I'll call Hamster because of his excessive blond body hair and beady eyes. So, we end up at my place, have awkward sex, and here I am trying to scrub blond bushy hairs out of my teeth. On a side not I should mention I did NOT follow my own weeny peeny rules. I urge you ladies, don't be like me, follow them!

Moral of the story: Don't hang out with Vulvatron, AND get a second opinion before you bring home that small awkward hairy man, nursing an MGD 64 in the corner.

Manimorphs

Any of yous ever agree to meet up with a man friend that, while you may have chatted online with / texted / emailed, twittered, whatever; you haven't seen, in person, for a few months? I know all you's got that NPOA* you keep around, waiting in the wings, an insurance policy against breakups, boredom, or the boyfriend being out of town for a few days, but ladies, just like it's important to change your oil and keep fresh batteries in the smoke detector, it's important to periodically check and make sure your back-up plan hasn't manimorphed.

I cannot stress this enough. It takes a woman years to "let herself go". Ladies, men have the ability to go from fab to fug in a matter of days. I work in a lab so believe me, I know.

Let's talk about this one guy I know. Let's call him Vince, because that's his name. Vince is an old friend, and before Maria says anything, I HAVE NEVER SLEPT WITH / DONE ANYTHING WITH VINCE. Never happened, never gonna happen, BECAUSE HE'S A MANIMORPH.

Vince is a solid 7 or 8, when he takes care of himself. He's tall, he's got a nice face, he has good hair, a nice body, and he dresses well without throwing off the gay vibe. My mother always asks why I don't just marry that nice Vince fellow. Then suddenly, for no apparent reason, he stops working out, starts eating bagel bites and big macs for dinner, and grows a neckbeard and an enormous unibrow. This man can go from a 7 or 8 to a pity 2. And then, after a couple of months like that, he's back to his usual self. This cycle repeats 2x or 3x per year. It's truly bizzare.

Vince is extreme, but any NPOA can be transformed into an unrecognizable schlub by a bad haircut or an ill-advised moustache. Even if he looks okay when you guys hook up, it pays to make sure he's not prone to this kind of bullshit. You don't want one of your girlfriends to run into your fugified POA and ride you on it.

Vulvatron out!

*"Piece of Ass" or "Nice Piece of Ass", shortened because I like acronyms.