it's TOOL TIME!

With all of the snow behind us, (hopefully) I got to thinking about another major threat to all of mankind (especially women): TOOLS.  I'm not talking about the kind you buy at Sears, either.

Ladies, we've all had the 'pleasure' of knowing at least one; actually, consider yourself lucky if you don't have to count any higher.  Chances are, you've probably dated Mr. Craftsman - it's typically a brief, forgettable relationship because let's face it, your bathroom sink had more personality.  We tend to hang out with these types of men boys when we are bored and need a distraction; they don't need one because they are already too fixated on themselves – usually in front of the mirror with a phone.

Soon enough, the unfortunate experience with this individual ends once the Red Flag Express runs you over with no warning (toot, toot!)  Despite the time you feel was wasted, you're 200% relieved that you don't have to float upstream in a douche canoe anymore.  Great success!

So, without further ado, I'm going to get down to the NITTY gritty here.  Just when you think you've made the great escape from this loser, he pops up in your phone out of nowhere like a zit during puberty. You hear the 'bling' of your text tone, look down and see a message from Tim the Toolman chillin' on deck.  You hesitantly slide your finger across the screen to not reveal a generic message, but an unsolicited PICTURE of his body part(s).

Just this past weekend, I was hanging out with a friend of mine when she showed me a text she had just received (as seen below) with the following caption: 'what do you think of that?'

What do I think?  Personally, I'd rather lick the bottom of a trash can.  Is this supposed be enticing?  In this case, the only thing that was turned on was the light bulb in our heads reminding us even more of what an arrogant asshole you are.  Stop thinking that women want to see your NON-REQUESTED muscles; if I feel like looking at some, I'll turn on 'The Notebook'. 

Sup, Ryan?