Guys that passively force you to watch online videos

Guy 1: Dude, have you seen the uhh, epic fail videos dude?

Guy 2: No. Actually, maybe (you instantly realize you should have lied).

Guy 1:  You have a laptop?

Guy 2:  Yeah.

Again, you could have lied and said you had a bad internet connection or slow computer, but you were contemplating how this guy’s gotta go, so you wound up saying 'Yeah' just to get him off your back.  Get a pack of Skittles partner, web-clip time.

Four minutes in.  You’re mumbling disconnected phrases like 'Cool man', 'Nice', 'That’s crazy' and 'This video’s long huh?'  It is long.  Seven minutes too long.  How many times can you see a skater’s balls hit a railing, or a heavy set woman break a chair she’s sitting in?  At that moment, a car driving through your bedroom would be a blessing.  Eventually, you’ll break and tarnish the friendship a smidgen.

Guy 2:  Brother, I love ya, but, I’m not a big online video guy.

Guy 1:  Too cool for that right?  But you can start your own blog though right?  Mr. Cool Journalism Major Blog Guy, huh?  Sweet life man.

Guy 2:  Sorry.

Guys that have shore-houses after twenty-seven

We feel ya buddy, five years out of college, subtle gut from beer and bad Hoboken pizza, locked into your sales job, waiting for that Friday happy hour.  Highlights of your day include eating lunch, greeting that “smoking” chick who sits four cubicles over and inappropriate e-mails from other workers. That’s it.  Welcome to twenty-seven.

Then December rolls around…its shore house shopping time.  You gather the boys at one of the sixty-three cheesy Hoboken bars (Black Bear, Lana Lounge, 10^th and Willow) to discuss amount of people in shore house, area of South Jersey (“The Squan”, Belmar, Point Pleasant) and length of stay. There’s usually a ring leader, the guy that has the house, area and people picked out.  He most likely rocks sunglasses backwards on his head, too many Facebook pictures and a couple tickets for public intoxication in his “college days”. This guy’s gotta go too. 

Shore house purchased.  You guys agree that you’re older now, more mature, so you get a quaint little joint in Spring Lake with two less guys (the ones you never really liked are out).

There’s hope for your lethargic life, there’s a shore house coming your way Memorial Day, take a breath compadre. It’s all gravy, except you're twenty-seven, you spend all your time in Belmar and Manasquan, and you’re still playing flip-cup.  The house in Spring Lake was to falsely convince yourself you’re an adult now.

“Yeah, we got a house in Spring Lake.  Belmar's too crazy for my blood now.  I’m an old man.”

Suit-man by day, Summer All-Star by night, almost thirty and still writing with a sharpie on your passed out buddy.

Let it go pal.

Guys with Charlie Sheen "Winning" T-shirts

The Charlie Sheen tirade was a wet dream for guys that listen to bad hip hop, do coke and have barbed wire tattoos (all gotta go as well).  They most likely possess other horrible shirts (Sour Diesel, Zach Galifinanakis in Hangover, Big Lebowski, Scarface).  After his hot mess of an interview you probably heard a couple imbeciles have a predictable stop and chat over a stupid handshake and a Hennessy and Coke that went something along the lines of:

Guy 1:  Dude, how fucking crazy is Charlie Sheen?

Guy 2:  Winning!

Guy 1: Banging 7 gram rocks kid (a hint to the other guy that he 'parties')!

Guy 2:  Yeah!  Crazy fuck! That shirt is hot son.

Guy 1:  Dope right?

Nope, not dope, not funny, not unique and probably not going to be worn after three months.  

Guys that wear sunglasses in bars

There's no need to wear sunglasses in a bar.  You look stupid.  You're not a spy, you're not a drug dealer, you're not a bad-ass.  You may very well firmly believe that you look cool or perhaps you're resurrecting a trend, but, it never was a trend, nor will it ever be.  Unless you're at a pool or hotel party, there's no need to wear sunglasses in a bar atmosphere.  Sunglasses are worn to prevent the sun, there's no sun in a bar at 11:30 pm on a Friday.

Fantasy Football Fanatic Guy

We all know this guy, right?  The guy at the bar who screams, "Go Ravens Defense!", yet has a Colts jersey on.  He'll bend your ear about who’s on waivers, QB ratings, ranked defenses, sleeper picks, productive tight ends, and who needs to "come up big this week”.  The fantasy epidemic hit this young man, and it him him hard. 

Look for these traits/qualities:

•          Mildly athletic in high school
•          Never an avid football fan, until his first draft seven years ago (he was probably 19 then)
•          In a league with friends and “another league” that he doesn’t pay as much attention to because he got experimental when drafting, and is now off to an 0 – 4 start.
•          Believes in a time constraint during draft rounds
•          Hosts the Fantasy Draft (also probably league administrator)
•          Wears a football jersey during the Fantasy Draft
•          Gets mad when people become inattentive during draft
•          Usually says this at some point during the draft, “I avoid drafting players within the conference of the team I root for.  I’m a GMEN fan.  I hate The Eagles, so I’m definitely not taking Vick.”  Thanks for the heads up guy.
•      Posts corny questions in league polls like, "When was the last time Eric got laid?" or, "Is Tim's team going to win a game?"
•          Consumes the thirty minutes you get at lunch break with fantasy banter
•          Knows more about football stats than football fans
•          While at a bar, he'll say things like, “Foster is a beast man” and, “Thank god for my kicker”, and “Rodgers hasn’t thrown a pick in 98 pass attempts”
•          Has a team name making fun of another guy in the league, i.e. Marks Hot Wife 
•     Hates when people don't pay for the pool right away
•    Has his laptop, fantasy magazines, and mock draft strategy ready and accessible during drafting
•   Doesn't get laid enough or ever
  

Guys that have bullet hole decals...

These guys are something else.  Fake bullet holes on the side of their car, yikes.  You’ll notice this at a red light and say to yourself, “Really? Did that guy’s car get shot up?”  Inch a bit closer to get a look at his face.  He’s usually white, scruffy, Big Gulp Mountain Dew in the cup holder, …And Justice for All blaring in his speakers.   

 

Bullet hole decals.  These exist and guys purchase them. Gotta Go buddy.  You just gotta go.   

(note: guys that listen to Drake may have these as well)

Guys that tell you the entire plot of a movie...

No need to see that film.  There’s that guy at the bar you befriended after a couple of beers, that will without a doubt, tell you everything you need to know, frame by frame, word for word.   


You thought you were cool when you mentioned you’re a film buff.  You overheard him say something about John Carpenter, so you interjected in an attempt to sound well-versed. 

“Halloween is an excellent film, probably the greatest thriller ever.”

“I agree man! Actually have you seen….”    That’s it, you’re done.  Forever locked into film content with the slightly overweight Sam Adams guy at your local pub.  A guaranteed ten minute stop and chat about a flic you’ll never see.  You never know when he’s done talking because every sentence ends with, “It was just great, you gotta see it.” 

“Yeah man, I’ll check it out.”  You inch towards the jukebox…

“And then he comes back from being buried, and he says like, he says like 'You won’t ever kill me' or maybe it’s, no, that’s right, that’s what he says.”  You nod while thinking to yourself,

“This guy has no idea that he’s gotta go.”