Evil is His One and Only Name

   Last weekend I attended a party, yeah I go to those. Well, it was a birthday party, not a “WOO-HOO” party. Anyway, I went to party and was talking with a few of friends. To fully understand how funny and overall what exactly is going on I have to tell you little story about Valentine's Day. On V-D this year there was some mild competition for my heart. I had a male and female friend who wanted to be my Valentine. They fought for a few days until I chose the male, you know because I am a girl. I also figured I would get some kicking chocolate out it . . . I was very wrong. I didn't get chocolate, I was stood up. It was a funny fiasco after when my two friends began fighting over me again, and that has been going on ever since. 

    Now that you guys have the basic back story I can tell you exactly what went down at the birthday party. My two friends were fighting over me again, the male was sitting on my lap, when two more suitors entered the arena: one male and one female. The other male was a hot contender with his obvious flirting and sexual advances. The other female was giving me space and smiling from afar while the others clamored all over me. 

    A conversation on Hunger Games started and I was trying to convince the first female suitor that Cato is amazing; she likes Peeta, so that wasn't going to happen. After a few minutes of this she got frustrated with me and started towards the door. She asked to wear my coat . . . I told her, “Sure?” I didn't know what she was planning on until she zipped it on herself and tucked her hair in the back. You see, my coat is a brown mock bomber jacket made of pleather with some forced aging. She stuffed her hands into the pockets and began to strut to me. She angrily put her arm around my neck and pulled me into her chest saying, “Hey babe, come here often?” My dear friend was wearing my jacket pretending to be man to wear my heart. She was being a total dick and spreading her legs out (a little, then closing quickly- she is shy). I explained to her that I don't like the man she is playing. She yelled, “Whatever! You like bad boys.” And I had to correct her.

    This story brings me to my main purpose of this entry: I don't like bad boys, I like evil men. Now what is the difference? First off, bad boys don't have to be intelligent, evil ones do. You can't be evil without being smart. It doesn't have to be book smart, either, it can be in one area or subject for all I care, but that intelligence is a large factor in what I need for my evil man. Second, bad boys are all talk and no action. I hate that. Evil men act, and while what they do isn't very nice – it is very actful (that's not a word, but I don't even care). Third, bad boys wear stupid clothes like black leather jackets and distressed jean shirts. Evil men wear uniform and overall sexy attire. There are a few other reasons, but these are the basics that blanket most everything about the two classes. 

    Evil just does it for me . . . anyway. I hope you enjoyed this insight into my humble existence. Here is a photo of Christoph Waltz as Hanz Landa because hell yes.