Beautiful Day

Finally. It's sunny out, breezy, with a high of seventy degrees. We've all waited long enough.

I was stuck in the office today, but I did get to go out for a walk at lunchtime, and that's when I noticed something I hadn't seen in a long, long time — skin. It's been like six months and day in, day out everyone on the street is a bloated pile of fur and down and Gore-Tex. Now suddenly everybody's got a normal human figure. It's like when they put the entire city of Philadelphia on a diet, only better cause no one had to do any actual work.

Which leads me to another observation: there's a whole lot of freaking ugly-ass people out there. I've got a fun summertime tip from me to you — if you don't have a good body, cover it the fuck up! For instance, you'll never see me strutting down the Seaside Heights boardwalk wearing a Speedo designed for Olympic competition, because I am considerate of my fellow man. Also, I am incredibly pale, beset with bacne, and self-conscious. And, to be honest, I'm not that considerate of my fellow man.

I believe we can divide mankind into five groups, based on our physical appearance. A fair percentage of humanity joins me in the first group: unattractive people who struggle to make do with what God gave us. Merciful God recognized our plight and granted us somewhere around nine-hundred reality make-over shows, and some flamboyant, gay fashion designer guy will eventually get to each one of us in turn so we can keep some lucky woman in her late thirties from becoming an old maid. You can tell that we're just romantics at heart.

Along with us are those in the second group: people who are ugly and don't know it yet. You've seen them, those blubbery girls who are like five percent pleated denim skirt and eighty-five percent cellulite and those guys living under more hair gel than all three of those guido Gotti kids combined. But they get along on their shining personalities. These folks usually wind up on softcore porn sites, cold sores and all.

The third group is the people who are too busy finding cures for AIDS or being the Dalai Lama to care about their personal appearance. Celebrities like Angelina Jolie and Bono think they're in this group, but they're not.

Fourth, we have the group of attractive women. I'll stop my bitching for a moment.

Finally, there's the attractive men. They can just die and stop screwing up the curve for the rest of us.