My first few days at a new job are usually spent making mental lists of things to steal, distractedly reminding people of my name, and identifying/neutralizing the prominent douche bag on the premises. By week two, I've got the entire workforce divided into cool/uncool and fuckable/not fuckable groups. Though something strange happened at my previous job: I felt an inexplicable attraction to this obnoxious, unattractive girl in the office. We'd established an almost instant rapport, and though my wang was flatly uninterested, I'd nonetheless take pains to entertain the troll. Sometimes it's long-term profitable to put in charity time with the unlucky denizens of FugWorld, lest my vagina-jolting good looks spur a sudden mega-makeover of She's All That proportions. But no such luck here, and the mystery remained unsolved. Until ...
Months later, I re-watched Swimming Pool, a superb French movie (read: naked movie) and realized that my mysterious attraction to the ghoul at work was because she reminded me faintly of retina-scorching hot Ludivine Sagnier, who enthusiastically bones/is boned throughout the film's 100 minutes. Ahhhh, I exclaimed. That's why. Liberated by my discovery, I commenced ignoring and openly deriding my deceitful co-worker. Call me cruel; she deserved it for laying claim to the affections belonging rightfully to piping-hot Ludivine Sagnier. Some people!
And alas, I propose that every metalhead's complicated feelings for awesome guitarist Alexi Laiho of awful band Children Of Bodom are the result of subconscious desires to fuck both Avril Lavigne and Devin Townsend. Gross. Autumn tour dates with the tremendously good Between The Buried And Me here.
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