bon vivants and cock saddles

I swear half the people in my reporting class are at least half retarded. There are too many reasons why I believe this to be true, so I won't even go in to it.

(I totally just spent like 3 minutes wondering if I used the proper usage of "in to" in the above statement. I checked it online and found I was correct which now means I totally fucking rule.)


Despite what I may sound like after reading what I just wrote, I'm totally living life like a reserved, well-mannered madman. I'm living the dream so much I might as well patent the damn thing. I'm so bon vivant, it's starting to take its toll. With all that good food, I should start frequenting the old treadmill.

So I've decided to personally wage a war against the "trend" of everybody growing mustaches. Come on, you're in your early twenties. You shouldn't grow a mustache until you get married, have at least one kid, turn at least 40, and give up on trying to look not-creepy. To wage this war, I will now refer to them exclusively as "cock saddles."

Man, don't even mention goatees.