The Geneva Convention

Attention: The US government needs to immediately start distributing the following pamphlets to every woman on the planet:

Wait! Before I deliver the goods, let me relay a brief anecdote illuminating my motivation for once again developing rigorous behavioral standards to be followed by all.

It all started with this girl I knew in College – Her name was Megan. (Her real name!!!! Her real name!!! Her real name!!!) Holy sweet sunny JESUS was she a piece of ass. I have to describe her: Her face was SICK, and for me, at the end of the day, it's really all about a girl's face. (Unless she's a severely disgusting fatbody, Frank Drebbin, but I think that's only common sense.)

Her face was SICK, like hurtmynuts girl-next-door sick. Like Charlie Brown's little-red-haired girl on Sunday when she was in color, son. Argh, hang on... again, words fail, lemme find a pic. Something like this:


See?!? Sick sick sick hot. Anyway, Megan was in a computer music class with me 4 times a week. We'd spend every single class playing fuck-me glance-tag the whole time. Jesus, those eyes – looks of shy love and tenderness that pulled at my heartnuts and gave me such a deep deep ballache that when I'd return to my dorm room alone, with her in my mindseye, it would literally only take twenty strokes before I'd fire mayonnaise across the room and hit the ceiling and the wall from afar. I even hit my couch once, thereby, as many of you know, giving me Seaman's furniture.

After relieving the 20 pounds of ball pressure, I'd have to get into bed and lie in the fetal position with my balls resting against my down comforter, sucking my thumb like a damaged gulf-war veteran.

She was dope.

Anyway, at the end of the academic year, we actually talked after class and she was like:

"omg, it's soooo stupid that we never hung out!! What is up with that?? You wanna come over tonight? woot lol"

And I was like:

"Sorry, that just made me finish in my pants, lemme go clean up and i'll be with you shortly."

So we got scheduled for that night. I was dumb psyched; wanked it a few times at home so that I'd be able to hold out and make her part of Hornery's 23%.

I made investments: I dissed my crew, all going to see De La Soul play in town - I was all, "nah, sell my ticket B! I'm 'bout to get Megan Bromley on my TEAM son..."

Threw on the Right Guard Sport scent, a touch o' the fresh Drakar Noir on the lower theighs to freshen her senses - common courtesy for when she enveloped my balls with her collegemouth... Threw on my dope ass Pumas, and I was all fuckin set...

So I got to her house, and she was done up DOPE, like some bitch at the Oscars. She kisses my cheek, gives me the little-bit-too-long-hug, and I'm thinkin BAM I'm in there like swimwear cuz...

So she goes, "omg blognigger, we have no alcohol! Let's go get beer!"

We went and got beer, then came back to her place and she goes:

"let's go watch a movie in my room upstairs!"

I shit you not, I was almost unzipping my fly to give the guy some air so he didn't suffocate and dry up like Terry Schiavo. I was dyin like there was a tractor beam pulling me to her - I could barely wait till we got up the stairs to leap on her and soil her with my demon seed.

So we got to her tiny college bedroom with dreamcatchers and shit on the wall, and she put on a VHS tape of Ferris Beuller or some shit, and was like, "let's sit on my bed."

I was like: Yes. Let's.

By then I was sweating like a black man taking the verbal SAT. (puertorican at a job interview, jew at a tax audit, etc)

We get on her bed, I open two beers and she's like "cheeeeeeeers buddy! I'm so glad you're here! "

She snuggles up next to me and starts watchin Cameron and Jennifer Grey kissin Matthew Broderick and shit, and it's the moment: I lean in for the patented Blognigger soft side-of-her-lips kiss...

The bitch jumped back like Bill Parcells getting gatoraded in '86!!!!

"Blognigger?!?!? what are you DOING??? It's ME, your friend megan"

psssst, Megan; realtime: are you there right now reading blognigger.com?? Listen to me very closely: I knew who it was, BITCH - the fuck you invite me to your BED for, drinkin and shit after a year spent jockin me like mexicans on a white chick?? Bitch you fucked Alex Fennigstein that little scrawny-ass druggie and you wouldn't even let me see some sugar?!? I missed De La Soul you slag!!! And Q-Tip sat in!!! How fuckin dare you!!

I am not alone – I've talked to hundreds of guys with similar experiences. So like I said: We need some pamphlets up in this muthafucka:

Here is the priceless information to be distributed by said pamphlets. It's the newschool Geneva Convention, girls. [Note that the following tenets apply only to non-physically-deformed ladies; deformed ladies can now skip to the bottom of the page**]

(Not to be overly stern, but please remember that for non-deformed women, these rules are FUCKING MANDATORY) :

a) ALL women must realize and constantly consider the fact that ALL guys want to fuck them ALL the time. If you think a guy is "just" your friend, then you are living in The Muppet Show, and need to get Jim Henson's hand out of your ass and wake up and realize that he was trying to poach your pussy.

b) ALL women must remember: Any male attempting to talk to you definitely wants to fuck you, and at all times you should be asking yourself: given that this man wants to fuck me, am I doing anything to falsely lead him into the assumption that I want to fuck him too?

Examples of misleading actions include:

• Inviting him onto your bed.
• Inviting him into your house.
• Inviting him to "hang out."
• Accepting an invitation to "hang out."
• Not being the one to release his hand first when you shake hands
• Smiling at him
• Making eye contact with him for more than 1 second
  
• Looking at any part of him for more than .25 second.
  

ANY of these behaviors are hereby subject to the governing ordinances of the Geneva Convention, and in engaging in any of these behaviors, you as a woman agree not to act surprised if the recipient of said action immediately pulls down his pants and expects you to pleasure him in the lap.

Men also reserve the right to deal with Geneva Convention violations using the same methodology as this incredible fucking hero:




**Section for the Deformed: If you are deformed or seriously seriously misshapen or ugly, then godbless, the one positive in your life may be that you don't have to be aware of these rules. Go with god and be well. Hey: why not write me an email? I've been listening to "Friends" from Led Zeppelin 3 and I've got a gigantic, caring heart. I will converse with you and be your friend, like a prison penpal. Seriously, I don't want anyone to feel terrible, and I'm sorry you're deformed but remember it could always be worse. You will pull through!! You can do it and I can help. One word of warning, however: If I find out that you're not sufficiently deformed / ugly, you will hereby owe me a tugjob.

Have a great weekend!