A girl once told me I was weird when I went on a 10 minute rant on why I thought strip clubs were stupid. I won’t go into it but because I hate phonies. Strippers are some of the biggest phonies out there. I don’t hate them for it. Their job is to pretend the beer bellied businessman man is the man they’ve always wanted. I can avoid strippers and their lies easy. Sometimes though it’s hard to avoid the people one level below the stripper, the Miller Lite Girl.
The Miller Lite Girl in this case is a traditionally attractive female between the ages of 18 and 24. When nepotism is involved they’ll go up to 27. They go out to bars and use their flirtatious ways to get lonely older men to buy the product that pays them, Miller Lite. The Miller Lite Girls I’m going to talk about here were sponsored by a radio station based out of Philadelphia, WMMR. It actually doesn’t matter where they came from because all Miller Lite Girls are the same, awful.
(These girls aren’t even that attractive. The one has orange skin and blue eye shadow. Figures a Mets fan would enjoy this. They’ll take any victory they can get. Maybe he likes the orange one because she’s the same colors as Mr. Met?)
I was at my usual bar which is not a party bar. It’s on the Princeton University Campus which you can figure means the average cliental are elderly professors and dorky Chinese kids. There are also quite a few seminary students. Basically what I’m saying is if you’re a guy looking for someone to hook up with you better have an old man fetish.
On this night there were two bimbos in electric blue outfits. It was the same blue the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders wear. Let’s call it Whore Blue actually. I noticed them immediately because even though they were incredibly fake looking they were still by far the most attractive people in the room. No offense of course to the male musician with the Ellen Degeneres face.
(Gay talk show host Ellen Degeneres or Australian musician CJ “Bearcat” Barna getting ready to play another Rob Thomas song?)
I grabbed a seat with my friend Rob and we noticed them prancing around asking people questions and giving out prizes. I’ve lived long enough to know girls like this would never sleep with me. I know what you’re thinking, who wouldn’t have sex with a pretty face like mine? Models, cheerleaders, incredibly attractive meter maids, the Steinert High School graduating class of 2006, any woman with a job; none of them would ever probably let me cozy up next to them. Knowing this fact is comforting. It simply means I can say “fuck it” and whenever a traditionally hot girl acknowledges my existence I set out to prove just how useless beauty can be in this world.
The bimbos actually made a point to try to get over to Rob and me. I saw them through my peripheral vision coming closer. The thing you need to know about slutty girls is they don’t have peripheral vision. The only direction they see is into a mirror. They thought I had no idea they were coming. I love dumb girls.
The blonde asked Rob if he was drinking beer. He wasn’t and they moved on. I made a point not to even look over when they talked to him. Nobody can say “Hey guys–“ and expect me to group myself in with someone else and respond. I am an individual. I heard them behind us saying “Should we ask him?” referring to me. They agreed that they should ask me. They swooped behind us to move onto others at the bar. The brunette said “Are you guys just drinking water?” I explained that I was drinking water but I’m not in charge of what others drink. She asked Rob what he was drinking and he said Vodka even though he has no clue what he was drinking. He’s not as irresponsible as that sounds.
The brunette explained how if we decided to drink Miller Lite we could win lots of prizes. I asked about these prizes. They had keychains, mini-footballs, and our favorite, beads. I made a big deal about the beads and acted as if they had me sold. Why would a grown man ever want to own beads? I told Rob they had beads in which he responded, “Bees? Don’t they sting?” and suddenly our characters had been developed. I was the Unsure Guy and he was the Idiot. I don’t think we were too far off from these girl’s personalities.
(Not the best prize in the world. Still better than some dumb beads though)
Our conversation lasted way too long. She still thought I might want the beads. She said they would be good for Mardi Gras. I turned to Rob and said “Hey, she knows your buddy Marty Graw.” The brunette looked at me blankly as I asked her where she knew Marty Graw from. “Is that a person’s name? Is this a joke or something?” I laughed in her face and she laughed too because that’s a stupid person’s defense.
A Japanese guy named Dan interrupted (yeah, they name their kids Dan now) and he pretended to be interested because he wanted to talk to two hot chicks. An actual guy from WMMR came over and tried to get us to participate in the raffle to win an Under Armor sweater. Rob asked him if he knew WMMR DJ Jacky Bam-Bam. He said he did. I asked him if he was Jacky Bam-Bam. He said he was not. I kept going on how ugly Jacky Bam-Bam is. He didn’t deny it. He asked if I was a fan of WMMR and I said “I haven’t listened to that station in 5 years.” He asked me why and I said they play too much Van Halen. We bonded for a few moments over how much Van Halen sucks.
(Jacky Bam-Bam is on the right. The term “a face for radio” was invented for him)
The radio guy gave us stickers in case we changed our minds on getting beer. I told him and the brunette it was un-American to make me buy beer in order to enter a raffle. I was going to say my parents were killed by drunk drivers and they were part of the problem but didn’t get the chance.
The WMMR crew left. Rob got the idea to order a Bud Light instead and trick them into thinking he got a Miller Lite. They didn’t like this joke. The blonde started getting really angry about our nonsense. She asked why he would waste his money on such a crappy beer. He said if he bought a Miller Lite he would have been wasting his money on a crappy beer. The brunette laughed and finally she was getting the joke.
The girls made one last plea to try to get us to purchase their crap beverage. They hyped up the Under Armor sweater that could keep us warm. I asked if the Under Armor was bullet proof and could act as Kevlar. The blonde said “I don’t know what that means” which I think she probably says a lot. We also tried to explain Rob was drinking his drinks in ABC order and he would get to Miller Lite once M came around. The blonde also didn’t understand what ABC order was. I think she’s still in kindergarten.
(Never let her off your shoulders sir. As soon as you do she’s destined down the path of becoming a bimbo who bothers men in a bar with her boobs)
I think the Miller Lite Girls came by us one more time. They made fun of us for drinking Bud Light and water. They ordered two waters from the bar. I yelled at them for being hypocritical parasites (not really, but I should have used those words) for judging us and getting water for themselves. The blonde kept saying she felt bad for us, Rob for drinking a bad drink and me for associating with him. I pretended to be on their side and made fun of Rob for being such a loser. They laughed at his expense with their retarded pretty girl laughs. Then I told Rob he was such a loser and I was glad his dad killed himself earlier in the week. Their faces got really serious and we talked a little bit more about Rob’s dad’s fake suicide. They got their waters, left, and gave out their stupid Under Armor sweater to some asshole who actually thought he could bang them. Men like that annoy me more than the actual Miller Lite Girls.
Mooselicker 