Check this out, 3.5 readers. I called it way back on March 31, 2016:
Oh sure, they say they want to be our friends but then as soon as we aren’t looking they kick the Ukraine in the balls and give East Europe a wedgie.
See that? Ahh, if only the head muckety mucks over at NATO HQ had bothered to read my fine blog, we could have avoided Putin’s invasion of the Ukraine and be putting our focus where it needs to be, namely, why the hell does the Academy keep nominating movies we have never seen for the Oscars?
John McClane. You know him. You love him. He’s America’s favorite divorcee turned terrorist fighter. Is his movie a Christmas movie? Yes it is. From BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, USA here are the top ten reasons why Die Hard is a Christmas movie.
#10 – It’s All About Love
You don’t think so, but it is. John and Holly love each other but are going through a rough patch and trying to work things out. Officer Al loves his wife and his job and is trying to overcome his feelings of inadequacy so he can be the man his family needs him to be. Even Hans Gruber’s #2, Karl, loves his brother so much that he vows vengeance upon McClane when he kills and defiles his brother’s corpse. (Seriously, I get JMC had to defend himself but did he really have to put a Santa hat on Karl’s brother’s dead body?) BTW what is the name of Karl’s brother? I’m too lazy to look it up.
I’ll admit it is a lack of character development in that we don’t learn who Hans loves, or if he is capable of love. Frankly, he is cold and calculating and just loves money. It would have been cool to have gotten some backstory on how he ended up this way. Rather than the two stupid post trilogy sequels, Hollywood might have invested in some Hans prequels telling us how he became a terrorist/robber. Hollywood, feel free to hire me to write this. I’m not doing anything constructive.
#2 – It Takes Place at Christmas
A lot of movies and TV shows reference or take place during Christmas, but Christmas is a big part throughout. I mean, it happens during an office Christmas party, right?
#3 – A Lot of Rooftop Action
Santa and John. Two dudes that like to hang out on your roof. Santa goes up there to deliver presents. John goes up there to transmit radio messages, hide from terrorists, shoot at Al’s car to get his attention and so on.
#4 – Christmas Music
Run DMC’s Christmas in Hollis. Al humming Let It Snow while he buys twinkies. (BTW where does that fat store clerk get off busting on Al for being fat when he, himself, is fat?)
#5 – There’s a Pregnant Lady
You know who was born in a barn? Jesus. You know who was born at the Nakatomi Office Christmas Party? Holly’s secretary’s kid. Oh, wait. He or she wasnt. But the pregnant lady was pretty close such that your first time watching you wonder if amongst all the chaos there’s going to be a baby delivery as well.
#6 – Hopes. Dreams.
Hans and friends hope to be super rich. John hopes to save the day. (Sidenote: should John have just sat back and let the crooks run off with the dough? Answer: no because remember the crooks were going to load everyone on the helicopters and then blow them up as a diversion so the cops think the terrorists croaked and don’t look for them when they run to the Carribbean and earn twenty percent interest off their stolen bearer bonds.) BTW why do so many robber movies involve bearer bonds? Channeling Seinfeld. What’s the deal with all these bearer bonds? Why do I want to buy a bearer bond when anyone can steal it from me and claim to be the bearer of the bond?
#7 – Al Gets His Mojo Back
Funny how times change. Back then, Al shot a kid and was benched because he became psychologically unable to draw his weapon again. This made Al ineffective as a street cop because if he faced a bad guy carrying a bazooka, three chainsaws, a nuclear bomb, 17 handguns and a pile of ginsu knives, Al still wouldn’t draw his gun because of the fear that he might accidentally shoot a kid again.
Times sure have changed. Today, quite understandably there is a lot of heat on cops to make sure their shoots are clean, in light of a lot of high-profile cases where police shootings have been anything but. Back in 1988, we cheer for Al when he finds the courage to draw his gun and gank Karl before he gets the drop on John but ultimately, if the movie were made today, Al probably would have been canned after shooting the kid and would have never even made it to Nakatomi.
#8 – Every Tool is a Johnson
You know the FBI agents who play into Hans’ hands are Johnson and Johnson, the joke being the government has oodles of non-descript, clean-cut schmucks ready to go by the rulebook even when the rules are being thrown out the window….did you know the anchorman Dick Thornburgh fights with is Harvey Johnson? In conclusion, every useful idiot is a Johnson though I’ll admit I have no idea how this connects to Christmas. Maybe because it’s funny and Christmas is a good time for laughter?
#9 – Who Wouldn’t Want a Ride Through LA in Argyle’s Christmas Limo?
I sure would.
#10 – It’s Christmas, Theo. It is the time for miracles.
Hans wants the miracle of independent wealth. John wants the miracle of saving everyone and reuniting with his wife. What miracle do you want? Now is the time to think about it.
Ho ho ho, 3.5 readers. Am I in the festive spirit? No, I’m just calling 3 out of 3.5 of you prostitutes.
You’re probably one of those commie pinkos who thinks that Ebenezer Scrooge only becomes the hero of A Christmas Carol at the end of the story when he starts giving away all his stuff, but come with me and you’ll see that Old Scroogey was the tops all along.
#1 – Scrooge was a self-made man.
Started at the bottom, now he’s here. You know he got there? A lot of hard ass freaking work. You know how he didn’t get there? Laying about. You know how he doubly didn’t get there? Handing out his hard earned Victorian era gold coins to good for nothing reprobates.
#2 – Belle Sucks
The Ghost of Christmas Past, one of three socialist specters who barge into Scrooge’s bachelor pad in the middle of the night like they own the damn place, takes Scroogey Pants to his youth, where he sees his young self getting dumped by his then fiance, Belle. The man’s crime? He worked too much.
Let me reiterate: his dumpworthy crime was that he worked too much.
Holy shit. Charles Dickens was peddling this Lifetime Channel for Women crap long before there was a Lifetime Channel for Women. Do you want to know why men have such a hard time understanding how to make a woman happy? It’s because Lifetime Channel for Women Christmas movies literally have the same plot points, ironically all within the same films:
Woman dumps high school boyfriend because HE lacks ambition.
Woman dumps boyfriend she met in the big city because HE works too much. Fuck that guy for having way too much ambition.
Woman returns to hometown. Reconnects with high school boyfriend. Appreciates how he is laid back and supportive and has time for her and…will support her while SHE works hard and pursues her AMBITION.
Lost after the end credits – the part where now successful woman grows resentful of how ambitionless HS BF is a wimpy moocher so she has an affair with a rich successful dude who is ambitious AF.
All I’m saying is if Belle had loved Scrooge, she would have stuck with him and supported him in his goal of becoming the most successful usurious counting house operator in all of Old London Town. Flip the script. If Scrooge had dumped Belle for having goals, that same busy body ghost would be dragging his old ass out of bed just to rub it in his face that if he’d just supported his fiance’s dreams, he’d be knee deep in Belle’s knickers by now and not all alone on Christmas Eve as a decrepit old fuck.
#3 – Mr. Fezziwig Blows
Past Ghost also drags Scrooge to an old office party, showing the old coot that once upon a time, he had a boss by the name of Mr. Fezziwig and that boss knew how to have a good time. Yes, on Christmas Eve, Scrooge’s very first employer would push all the desks to the side and bring in the band and the food and everyone would have a rocking good time…on whose time? You guessed it. On the shareholders’ dime.
Yeah, you might think Fezziwig is a barrel of laughs, but do the math. He’s one of those dumb Wall Street types who caused the market crash in 2008. Remember all those stories of executives going wild with their companies’ profits? Spending lavishly on extravagances, all the while ignoring the fiscal health of their corporations? You know what these shitheads spent money on? Parties. You know what they didn’t spend it on? A mother-humping rainy day fund that would have kept the company afloat and the low-level Cratchit type office drones employed through hard ass times.
You got a boss like Scrooge who demands that everything be business as usual on Christmas Eve? Good. Thank his ass for keeping the company you depend on to put food in your mouth afloat and not spending your next paycheck on stupid ass parties.
#4 – Fuck Fred
Fuck Fred and all of his dumbass holier than thou trust fund millennial bullshit. Fred acts like he’s the shit because he’s young and hip and has friends and they get together and have hot and swanky Marco Polo parties where blindfolded guests try to find each other and maybe every so often a gentleman will rub up against a lady’s ankle. Scandalous, I say!
You know what Fred doesn’t know about? Work. Fred can whine about how grumpy his uncle works but if Fred had any idea how much freaking blood, sweat and tears his deceased parents put into funding the trust fund that pays for him to be a swanky ass Marco Polo party throwing gentleman, or how hard Scrooge has worked and how he still finds time to manage that trust fund so Fred doesn’t end up in some Victorian back-alley giving hand jobs to Jack the Ripper types for a six pence, he’d shut his damn gob and for once in his useless life, thank his uncle for everything, then go to his parents’ graves and thank their dead asses too. Seriously, Fuck Fred.
#5 – The Cratchits Need to Stop Fucking
Look, overall Bob Cratchit seems like a good egg and I would say is another unsung hero of the story, second only to Scrooge. Bob is a broken down old middle aged asshole who probably had a lot of hopes and dreams when he was young but then somehow took a few wrong turns and ended up as a scrivener in Scrooge’s counting house. For those not in the know, being a scrivener in the 1800s was basically the equivalent of being a human printer. Scrooge would just dictate his letters like, “Hey Fuckface! You owe me 50 gold coins! Pay up or I’ll foreclose on your shack!” and then dutiful employee that he was, Cratchit would dip his quill pen in an ink fountain and scrawl across a piece of fresh parchment, “Hey Fuckface! You owe Mr. Scrooge 50 gold coins…”
Anyway, we all make mistakes in life, some of us more than others and in Cratchit’s case, you can’t fault a man who is on the ropes yet keeps getting back up to let life take more swings at him. He comes to work every day and takes Scrooge’s verbal abuse and never talks back and listen up kids, because any adult worth their salt will tell you that literally half the battle when it comes to holding down a job for the long term is a) keep showing up and b) keep taking your boss’ verbal abuse while saying nothing in return.
But Bob and Mrs. Cratchit have a big problem. They like to fuck. And it’s old times so there’s no rubbers or contraception and I think everyone in this time period thinks all of that is evil anyway. Plus, everyone is potent as all get out because all the food is fresh with no preservatives. There’s no microwaves or laptop computers on your junk or cell phones in your pocket transmitting signals to your junk. There’s no soda pop or fast food or bad food and no tighty whitey underwear so literally, every fuck session results in a kid. Fuck. Boom. A Kid. Fuck. Boom. Another kid. If you lived in Victorian England under the reign of Queen Vicky and Prince Albie and you fucked, then clear your schedule for 9 months because a baby is on the way.
But let me ask you this. Is it Scrooge’s fault that Mr. and Mrs. Cratchit like to get their fuck on? I don’t think so, yet that leftist troll Dickens sure seems to think it is. For Christ’s sake, Scrooge gave Cratchit a damn job when no one else would and yet, Dickens acts like just because Cratchit acts as Scrooge’s personal photocopying machine, that somehow requires Scrooge to pay for every single one of the Cratchit offspring from the cradle to the grave.
Look kids. Here’s a breakdown of whether or not your employer is required to pay for every last living expense of every last one of your progeny.
QUESTION #1 – Did your your boss hit that pussy? If no, then shut the fuck up and a) either stop fucking or b) get a job and you know what c) tell your wife to get a damn job too. If yes, then alright, he should pay for the resulting kid but you need to talk to your wife and demand that she stop fucking your boss.
That’s it. There is no question 2.
Sidenote: Could Scrooge have a heart and spare some dough to help Tiny Tim get a fucking operation to cure his gamey foot and leprosy and downtrodden street urchin syndrome and whatever else old timey disease he has? Sure…IF HE WANTS TO.
A) Scrooge didn’t get his fuck on. We know this, because he’s a lonely old son of a bitch who lives all by himself in a dusty old mansion. Life is all about choices. Scrooge chose money over pussy and given the way Belle treated him, I can’t say he’s wrong. Cratchit chose pussy over money and as a result, he might be rich in love but it really isn’t Scrooge’s responsibility to give up his loot whenever the Cratchits bump uglies. Had Cratchit wanted to be rich, he could have just as easily told Mrs. C to cool her jets because he needs to take on more scrivening jobs and become a multi-million-gold-coin aire/human mimeograph mogul but he didn’t. He chose to fuck and so he gets what he deserves. In the end, we are all the sum of our choices.
#6 – Screw Scrooge’s Ungrateful Mortgagees
You know what the best moment of my life was, noble reader? The day I got approved for a mortgage. That meant I got to put down roots on my own piece of land and be the king of my own castle. Pretty great feeling. You know what happens when you get your own place? You get lots of junk mail – rat bastards who want to loan you money because they know you must have some if you got approved for a mortgage.
You know why I like having my own place? Because I can do whatever I want in the privacy of my own house. That’s right. If I want to draw a clown face on a paper grocery bag and throw it over my head and masterbate myself gently to sleep whilst enthralled in a marathon of old Airwolf episodes I can, and fuck you and everyone else who doesn’t think the best show ever made starring Jan Michael Vincent as the pilot of a top secret CIA spy copter isn’t the tits.
But I digress.
The Ghost of Christmas Future shows Scrooge a couple who were about to lose their home because they fell behind on the mortgage payments. They learn of Scrooge’s death and are elated because this means they get more time to come up with the cash.
Look, my mortgage lender is a coldhearted, faceless corporation, but let’s say, for the sake of argument, that my lender was just like, a dude named Steve. Say I hear it through the grapevine that Steve fucking croaked. Am I going to be happy about this? No. Know why? Because I’m a decent human being and my first reaction is to be sad when any human being dies and also, I’m grateful to Steve for believing in me enough to help finance my dream of home ownership. Steve didn’t have to loan me all that money, but he did. He thought I was a bet worth making. And you know how I’d feel if I was late with a payment? Sad. Ashamed I let Steve down. I’d go out and bus tables, take extra work, shine shoes, collect tin cans, suck a hobo dick, do whatever it takes to get Steve’s money back to him on time so he doesn’t think less of me because after all, it touched my heart that he thought enough of me to loan me all that money in the first place.
You know who else believed in people, all over all of Old London Town? One Ebenezer Scrooge. That’s who. Even though his fiance dumped his ass for the high crime of being an overachiever, he still didn’t lose faith in humanity. People come to him looking for him to finance their dreams and he did. They were all too happy and eager to take the money but when it’s time to pay back the money? Oh no. Now they act like they’re doing Scrooge a favor. They act like they’re doing Scrooge a solid for giving him what already belongs to him according to a pre-approved time table that they agreed to. You know who made it possible for you to have a roof over your head and a place to sleep and raise a family? Ebenezer Scrooge, so maybe instead of cheering his death because you were too fucking lazy to get off your ass and earn the next mortgage payment, maybe go to his funeral and pay your respects and give him one last thank you for believing your stupid sorry ass and then go suck a dick…ten, no twenty dicks. Suck as many dicks as you need until you have enough money to pay your next mortgage payment to Scrooge’s estate…ON TIME.
#7 – Scrooge’s Housekeeper Should Go to Jail
Here’s another dumbass that Scrooge believed in. Gave her a job. Gave her a purpose, gainful employment, paid her a wage. Trusted her to come into his house and how does she repay him? Stealing all his shit the second his old ass dies. The Ghost of Christmas Future shows Scrooge this scene on the premise that Scrooge is such a crusty old jerkwad that even his housekeeper has no love for him and sees his death not as a reason to mourn but as one last chance to line her pockets with Scrooge’s belongings.
Pardon my language but…FUCK…THAT…BITCH. Oh, what? Like she was on her way to Vasser to become the first female Prime Minister of England before Scrooge enticed her into a lifetime of being paid to keep a mansion clean? Yeah, no. She was no doubt giving handies next to the Thames two at a time before Scrooge and will have to go back to that life after Scrooge. There are way too many people in this world who resent the shit out of their employers rather than thank them for giving them the job that keep s the lights on, the heat on, the roof over their head, and the hobo’s dick out of their ungrateful mouths. I
Seriously, if this woman had an ounce of loyalty in her wretched heart, she’d weep for her boss and then put in one last day making sure the mansion is nice and clean for whoever inherits it, which we can only assume will be Fred and ….aw, fuck Fred!
#8 – No Solicitors
Remember those charity collecting do-gooders who harass Scrooge for a handout in the beginning, looking to help the poor? And Scrooge’s response is to ask if the prisons and workhouses have been shut? And then the collectors say people would rather die than go there and Scrooge says let them and reduce the surplus population?
Look, I can’t condone Scrooge’s Thanos-like argument, but keep in mind, in Old England, prison was like the government’s only social program and the workhouse was the equivalent of getting a first job at McDonalds. So, translated today, Scrooge is telling these do-gooders to tell the poor to go get some food stamps (that his tax dollars already paid for) and go get some entry level employee training at Burger King and leave him alone because this rich ass dude is already doing his part to keep London clothed and fed. He’s giving everyone the loans they need to keep a roof over their head and you want him to buy everyone a Christmas goose too? Fuck that.
#9 – Marley Was a Cuck
Look, I don’t care how many chains and oversized novelty locks Scrooge’s old partner, Marley, is required to carry around in the afterlife. Marley did nothing wrong and he is being falsely persecuted. Marley taught Scrooge everything he knows about usurious money lending and the gold coin counting trade and he shouldn’t be ashamed of it, no matter what those other hippy ghosts say.
You know who was loyal? Scrooge. He was the only one who showed up to Marley’s funeral and he never changed the name of his counting house. Never painted over the Marley and Scrooge sign. Loved the man too much and why not? Because he taught him how to get rich AF. Don’t be like Marley. Don’t apologize for being rich AF.
#10 – God Bless Us, Everyone
So in the end, the best thing about being rich is you can intervene in the lives of poor people. You, as a rich fucker, might see someone having a rough go of it and you might think, “This reminds me of that time I had a rough go of it and if only some rich fucker had intervened on my behalf…” and then you go and intervene on the downtrodden person’s behalf.
It’s awesome that Scrooge decides to take it upon himself to save Tiny Tim’s life by buying the Cratchit family a Christmas goose and then apparently taking on every single last medical bill that Tiny Tim’s leprosy ridden body requires.
But Scrooge should only do this because he wants to, not because he was guilted into it, and the entire time Bob Cratchit must be reminded that he is less of a man because his boss of all people had to intervene and pay for the sickliest Cratchit’s gamey limb treatments. Bob should feel like a pathetic, loserish pile of donkey dung and should immediately go out and get a second scrivener job. I mean, holy shit, this dude has so many kids that he needs to be scrivenering all day, night and weekends just to pay for them all. And you know what? Mrs. Cratchit should take in some laundry and some seamstress work and not gonna lie, both Mr and Mrs C should be sucking hobo dick on the sly for tuppence just to make ends meet.
Know who shouldn’t be guilted into paying for everything? Scrooge.
A few years ago, I was younger (spoiler alert, a few years ago we were all younger by a few years) and I had more energy to write creatively on this fine blog. Among my contributions were a series of the top ten reasons why your boyfriend or girlfriend was…a vampire…a doomsday prepper…a ninja…an assassin…a wannabe rapper…and so on.
Now I’m a few years older and I have less energy. Also, quite frankly, I have less time on earth now and my mind no longer placates itself into thinking that I’m gonna turn it all around by becoming a famous write. I’m stuck in the bed I made for myself and let that be a lesson to you, 3.5 readers. Once you make your bed, you got to lie in it…forever and ever and ever and ever and ever. Ergo, I am now a grumpy old bastard with less time and/or interest in bringing myself to think of creative things to write on this fine blog.
But a few years ago I wrote a post about the Top Ten Warning Signs Your Girlfriend Might Be a Witch. Over the years, I saw interest in this post grow, including search terms like, “Is my girlfriend a witch?” (Son, I hate to break it to you, but if you have to google it, you already know the answer.)
I am curious if such googlers are worried their girlfriends are witches of the occult variety (i.e. some dude who saw a female silhouette strafing across the night sky atop a broomstick and he couldn’t help but notice that while this was happening his girlfriend and broomstick were nowhere to be found) or of the regular variety (i.e. she never lets him watch the game or chill with his homeboys and if he burps sideways she writes eighty-seven posts about it.)
Anyway, there is usually an uptick of interest in this post around Halloween. Hard to say, but 30 visitors a day to this exceptional blog is average. Around Halloween this year I received close to 200 visitors thanks in large part to this post. To the close to 200 dudes trying to find out if their girlfriends are witches, I think you ought to stop wondering and just go out and find yourselves girlfriends who you are SURE are not witches…unless you are ugly and/or poor and/or unsuccessful in which case you should probably stick with these witches because on a statistical level, no one else wants you so you need to put up with your girlfriend’s cauldron full of eye of newt and/or charging designer furry boots on your credit card without your permission, whichever witch case she may be.
Or don’t. Because hey, it’s better to be single than to be with a witch. Then again, I hear green women are freaky so maybe she’s worth it. You know what? Don’t come to me for advice about women, be they witches or non-witches. If I knew anything about women, I wouldn’t be writing on a blog that is read by only 3.5 readers.
Anyway, I hope this increase in visitors continues. Though Halloween is behind us, the daily visitors seem consistent at around 70, so there are still a lot of dudes who want to know if they are dating witches.
To those dudes I say:
But are you a prize yourself?
Maybe you should just go with it. Not all witches are bad.
I’m sorry she turned you into a toad.
Do you want to know if your girlfriend is a witch? Read the epic post here.
FYI: I would have embedded the above post into the words “Read the epic post here” but WordPress changes its blogging functions around more than Lady Gaga changes her outfits and I don’t have the strength to figure out how to embed links into words at the moment.
DOUBLE FYI: I just googled “Top Ten Warning Signs Your Girlfriend Might Be a Witch” and I’m proud to say that this post was ranked not only at the top of the page, but a similar post from The Washington Post came in second. A few years ago, that would have really stroked my ego, but today as I mentioned I am quite old and lethargic so I’m not that impressed…although I would note that when it comes to the topic of determining whether one’s girlfriend is a witch, this blog beats the paper that took down Nixon even while it has all the resources that Jeff Bezos can bring to bear, including the whopping 17.8 cents that Jeff has added to his fortune thanks to my self-published books.
TRIPLE FYI: Lesbians, I didn’t forget you. You may also be dating witches. You might also want to check out this post or you might want to ignore it because again, I’m not the one that straight dudes should be going to advice for about women so I doubt my advice will help you out either.
Just a quick list, 3.5 readers. No snappy introduction. No exposition.
I’m not saying you DO smell bad, I’m just saying, IF you do, here are some reasons why:
#10 – You farted.
#9 – Someone near you farted and you caught second hand fart stink.
#8 – You burped. Burps are the farts of the mouth. Meanwhile, farts are the burps of the butt.
#7 – You forgot to shower for 50 days.
#6 – You just got back from a visit to a cow farm.
#5 – You ate onions.
#4 – You had to cut open a large animal and hide inside its carcass for warmth during a blizzard.
#3 – You smeared old, rancid mayo on yourself then sat outside to bake in the hot sun all day. Don’t ask me why you did this. You’re the one who did it, idiot.
#2 – You tripped and fell head first into the cat’s litter box. While you were down there, the cat didn’t notice you and pooped on your head, then scratched your face in a vain effort to bury the offending poop. The entire time, you were too polite to not move and/or notify the cat of his/her mistake.
#1 – A stink bomb went off in your pants.
As far as I know, these are the only reasons I can think of as to why you might smell bad. If you think of more, leave them in the comments.
BQB HERE: I haven’t done a top ten list in ages, so enjoy. Click on the “Top Ten Category” Link and see more if you wish.
Congratulations! You just scored your dream job, that of the hot new soprano in a Paris opera house. Pretty soon, you’ll be raking in the cash and also getting all kinds of tasty croissants from your fans. I assume that’s how the French reward their singers. I don’t really know though.
The catch? A disfigured madman has absconded with you and taken you to his secret underground lair. But seriously, given how downright awful men have become, that could just be an average Tuesday night for most ladies.
Anyway, is your date the Phantom of the Opera? Check my handy list to find out:
#10 – He is a Phantom inside of an Opera
This is usually a dead giveaway. After all, it’s not like opera houses employ multiple phantoms, so if you’re at the opera and you have met a damn phantom, then run, ma’am, because that son of a bitch is the one and only Phantom of the Opera.
Or stay if you are into that sort of thing. Personally, I think you can do better. But hey, even though he’s ugly he might be packing a tree trunk under that cape, so what do I know? Relationships are all about decisions and compromise, I suppose.
#9 – Is He Inside Your Mind?
Check out Andrew Lloyd Weber’s infamous lyrics. If he’s in your mind, he might be the Phantom of the Opera. Then again, he could just be playing head games. A lot of men do that, you know. Damn men. I can’t stand them. That’s why I only date women. Also, because I like boobs, but that’s an entirely different column.
#8 – Has He Kidnapped You and Taken You to His Sewer Lair?
If you’re not award winning TV reporter April O’Neil and he isn’t green, then he’s probably the frigging Phantom of the Opera.
#7 – Have Those Who Have Seen His Face Drawn Back in Fear?
Again, check the lyrics. Although, this isn’t conclusive because people who see my face draw back in fear and I’m not the Phantom of the Opera.
#6 – Does He Wear Half of a Porcelain Mask?
Could be, but also could just be a flamboyant drama student.
#5 – Did You Meet Him on Tinder?
Then it’s not him. Don’t confuse him with his cousin, The Phantom of the Tinder.
#4 – Does He Wear a Cape?
Sadly…and this is a harsh indictment of today’s men, but yeah…that isn’t conclusive either.
#3 – Does He Call You His Angel of Music?
That’s really sweet. You know, so what if his face is messed up and lives in a sewer? He calls you nice names so you could just give it a chance and oh, what, all the kidnapping and murders. Even so, do you think anyone better is coming along? Look, I’m not telling you to settle but just make sure you don’t wait so long that you end up alone. After 40, when you’re hugging a cat and downing a pint of ice cream on your couch all alone, you’ll pine for that kidnapping murderer with the messed up face.
Bonus points if you don’t. #selfrespect
#2 – Does He Sing to You in Your Sleep?
Could be him. Could be your creepy ass next door neighbor.
#1 – If You Have to Ask, He Probably Is
I mean, come on. Whether or not your boyfriend is the Phantom of the Opera is just something you know, right?
You’ll get those witches, my pretty, and then you can tell all your dawgs too!
For some reason, my post about witch pick up lines is popular. Apparently, there are lots of dudes out there trying to find a witch. So ladies, if you dabble in the occult, know that there are eligible bachelors out there looking for you to cast a spell on them.