Anyone that spends enough time with me knows that most of my best friends are dudes that are kind of chick-like. They look male, they smell male… but they’ll, y’know, bitch me out about not being sensitive to their needs. And they cry listening to “Here” by Pavement. And they spoil me with sushi dinners just to have enough time to wax poetic about the complicated structure of relationships.
I love a guy that’s basically a girl, because guys are awesome and look great in soft, old t-shirts (girls do too, but unless they’re Jen, they’ll never let you borrow their soft, old t-shirt if it looks good on you), and they don’t care if you weigh less than them, and they listen without grunting when you’re three O Bans in and shedding tears about how you feel inadequate, maybe because it’s a full moon or you’re hormonal or something.
So yes, it’s a little funny that I tend to poke at Paris Hilton’s little bitch Onch, just because he’s a delicate, rainbow-colored flower with a fascination for useless famous-for-nothings, and cuz he totally looks like a lady. So when Intern Jasmine sent over photos of the little lad-lass at Hilton’s Christmas party…
…and mused, “Wait – Onch is a dude?” and I responded, “Barely,” I started to check myself. What is my real problem with Onch, anyway? Is it because he’s Asian, and because I’m so desperate to have rock-hard reprzentatives that I can’t deal with an Asian that’s also a bit of a femme fatale?
After, all MTV News has begun releasing their top ten picks for Man of the Year, and already included in that tier are the self-anointed queenish king of guyliner, Pete Wentz, and one very dainty, cherub-faced Jonas brother, Nick Jonas.
I mean shoot, if this is what sets the bar for manhood in the new millenium, Onch is like the new Gerard Butler, and I’m just an outdated old fart. Right?
Maybe I’m wrong about Onch. Maybe.
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