an ode to the two-ply

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Tissue paper is like success — it’s mandatory.

Or here’s another way to look at it:
The absence of tissue paper = the presence of failure.
I nearly had a cardiac arrest when I found out from a cohort that men, in 2015, invite Damsels over their quarters for courtship with NO tissue paper in the house!
It is IMPERATIVE that men have a bountiful stock of tissue paper available for her comfort and protection. Catch a damsel on a good day, and she’ll ex you off of her prospect list if her hind parts wasn’t properly accommodated.
After all, women have a lot of operations to maintain their beauty and most of those things involve tissue paper consumption.
Any man who has a stack of Quiznos or Chipotle napkins on the back of his toilet in place of benevolent tissue paper should be ashamed of calling himself a man. Insult to injury, these aren’t even the good napkins like the ones you find at a summer BBQ. These are the brown, watered down recycled napkins — which are probably equally as effective as using the old school Happy Meal boxes to make a clean sweep.
And so you ask — what is a good amount of tissue paper to have on hand?
Have at least 7 rolls on deck.
That’s a healthy inventory for at least one evening of wooing.
I should know.
I spent most of my early childhood years with three women in the house.
Do you know how long Tissue Paper lasted in my home?
11 seconds.
And not the roll, I’m talking about the entire package.
Go and Get a Major Edge on your paper products:
They’re not too plush to buy
They’re too clutch to shy
This is an ode to the two-ply
~Charles Kellam

Pretty Girls Poop.

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Please believe, that I did everything in my power to avoid this issue.

Well, almost everything. After having a deep talk with one of my dear comrades, I found it necessary.  He actually inspired the title that you hate that you love.

Pretty girls poop!

I’m not too keen on it.

I don’t like it.

And to be quite frank with you, I still don’t fully accept it.

And I know what you’re probably thinking:

“It’s 2013. Get over it!”

But I’m not over it, so I implore you to get over the fact that I’m just not over it yet.

These are my thoughts~

I put Damsels on a pedestal.  Even the ones who don’t deserve it.

I guess you can say, I’m a female chauvinist, if you will.

My Mother raised me, so she was like a God to me.

Therefore.

I look up to women.

I treasure their existence.

I admire them.

Again, even the ones who don’t deserve it.

So just the mere fact in knowing that Damsels defecate troubles me.

It humanizes them in a way that I’m not really comfortable with.

But that’s just me.

And as much as I despise this harsh reality, I realize the bigger picture.

G.A.M.E. can be improved significantly if men took the time to realize that Pretty Girls have to visit the porcelain every now and again.  Depending on how you look at it, we can turn the feces into fertilizer.  And some men just don’t see it this way yet.  That’s why I’m here…

SOAPBOX

 

Every man in the world, including myself, has seen that Damsel that was so beautiful, it made him quiver.

Made him nearly sh*t himself…at least once.  I know I have.

Why?

Because true beauty is nerve-wracking and scary.

(And by beauty, I mean whatever you perceive as such.)

When people get nervous, their bowels start doing peculiar things.

It doesn’t matter if you celebrate Ramadan, on your 9th day of fasting; matter will find it’s way to your tail feather if you’re nervous.  Bottom line.

So back to my Soapbox…

There was a girl named Nia quite a few yesterdays ago.

Nia. Was. Everything.

She & I lived on the same street, her about 6 houses down.

I don’t know what it was about this girl that wrapped my stomach in knots when I saw her; but somehow, she was successful at it every time.

So what did I finally do?

I did what every young handsome boy with raging hormones does whenever he sees a girl he likes:

I ran.

I fled the scene immediately, like clockwork.

I would go back to the comfort of my living room and spectate her glory from the mini blinds.

This was way before the Book of G.A.M.E. even came out.

I was G.A.M.E.-less

Even my father’s continuous pep talks couldn’t get me to overcome these emotional hurdles I was hurdling…fear that she would reject me.

If I knew then

what I know now, Nia would’ve been in the bag.

Turns out that I put her on such a high pedestal, that I was unable to reach her myself. And that was my own doing.

Comrades, be confident.  Please.  A Damsel at the end of the day, is a human being at the beginning of the day.  Confidence is everything.  You need to understand that rejection is always a possibility, even for the Damsel that makes you nervous.  G.A.M.E. is a mechanism designed to help you minimize these rejections.  Never be too afraid to approach what you think may be a shot at something real.  Pedestals are for Bronze, Silver, and Gold Medalists.  But if you happen to accidentally place her up there real high…

Bring her back down!

You can simply do so by just remembering, that Pretty Girls do it too.