Vox Newman

He’s so Jimmy | April 1, 2011

Jimmy here: sorry I didn’t return your text/email/call/tit flash in the club, but I was busy getting laid i.e. winning.  I might get back to you later, if I need a booty call when my girlfriend’s out of town.  She’s a model, so she goes out of town a lot which means that you might be winning sometime soon.  Keep in mind though, that I have an epic contact list.  Don’t worry, it’s not organized alphabetically, it’s ordered by the magnitude of what I imagine you can do with your lips.

Of course, making out with your girl friend can only help your case.  But don’t think it settles matters: there’s all kinds of trampy ways for hot girls to get my attention.  And really, that’s what I’m all about, getting attention: if you give me the right amount and I’m drunk enough, things will naturally progress from there.

My second priority is fun and bottle-service is a sure fired way of achieving that.  It also helps my prestige.  You see, I’m very concerned with how I’m perceived.  I have to be seen as winning.  All you girls help me with that.  I get to parade my cell-phone around to my buddies and brag about how you’re all stalking me with your 18 texts and calls a day.  The guys have to have someone to look up to and since we’ve been raised in competition why shouldn’t it be me?

So I really gotta thank all you ladies for the attention.  I mean, it’s pretty apparent (although I’ll try hard to convince you otherwise) that I don’t respect you at all.  This is mostly due to the lack of respect I have for myself.  Luckily I can use the events of my childhood that led me down this path as a useful tool to seem all deep and shit.  You’ll love it when I cry on your shoulder.

Of course if you knew this was how things stood, you’d walk away?  No you wouldn’t.  I’m subconsciously aware that my popularity with all you beautiful girls is based almost entirely on the fact that it started with one of you and then turned into an avalanche, because you are also in competition with your sisters, and what they want, you want.

It’s the circle (or areola, if you will) of life.

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