I wake up every morning and boil my eggs in a vat of prairie dog venom. It may not be lethal to humans. Hell, it might not even exist. But, at least I know for a fact that it may be illegal in the states, and that’s pretty dangerous living, if I do say so.
"Man up, and say I'm fat." You tell 'em Chris! (Image Source)
Hi! My name is Terrence McGaffery, and I’m a Careless Crapshooter. An Optimistic Opportunist. A Shill Dicer. A Five-Fanged Viper. A recently divorced father of six who has just been laid off from his job running price tags at K-Mart. And, yes, that also means that I’m recently single.
I’m here to tell you that life is like a box of fruit: Everything’s clearly labelled, and it’s your fault if you make the wrong decisions. But don’t fret! Today is your lucky day because I’m here to mentor the tens and tens of you on how to grab the reigns and finish the race. You may not win the race. You might not even place. But I assure you, you will finish. Just like that guy from that Cake song, you’ll be going the distance.
The first thing you’ll need before you’re sitting in God’s ivory tower like me is a proper wingman. Look around the room; there is no better man to qualify as your wingman as me. Therefore, after this assembly is dismissed, I’ll be waiting out back if you’re looking to hit up some clubs. Maybe even a simple pub for a drink. Or, a movie would suffice. Seize the night and revel in the light. Seriously, I’ll be your wingman, and you can be mine. I’m a really good wingman. Please.
(Image Source - will not disappoint)
Next, you’ll want to be confident. You think my wife left me because of my unremitting gambling addiction? No, she left me for her glowingly fit, sprightly personal trainer. She left me for a man so insecure, that he has to stay lean and muscular to maintain a positive body image. Not me. My body is the perfect representation of someone who is comfortable with himself. Not too obese, but also not too bald. You can achieve my physique with minimal effort.
Those muscles act as a cloak to conceal his insecurity. (Image Source)
Moving on, I’d like to touch on making intelligent career moves. If your boss is having a go at you for simply being merely three and a half hours late for only the second time that week, tell her to relax and ask her on a date. The worst thing could happen is that you’ll be fired, nothing to fuss over when the job market's as ripe as a carrot tree. Furthermore, I— Oh, boy. It seems that security has found someone hogtied in the back. Me? No, sir. I’m the real Terence McGaffery. An ID? Well, no, I—Uh. Are you sure that ID he has isn’t a fake? No? Well, folks, it looks like their rushing me off the stage as I’ve eaten up most my time. Remember, I’ll be out back. I’ll pay halfsies on the cab. Please?