Guys who sweat cologne
What the heck is going on with the world today? We've got us a war on em' terrorists, as America would proclaim, fraternities are still cool and, oh yeah, my shoes got stolen from my own house the other night.
I am a pretty merciful guy when it comes to almost any predicament I face, but something happened this past week that I can not excuse, which has led to this verbatim outcry and a plea for your help.
Last week a couple of my roommates came in late from their usual drunken stupor, aroused from a night out at the clubs, but this time things were a little extra bit saucy.
They shook the house with tasteless dance beats, played tag and probably did everything else you could think of when you're drunk, multiplied by nine.
To get the fuming point across, my roommates brought with them some friends that, in my hometown of West Vancouver, would be labelled "funboys." You know, the kind of guys that pay more attention to their ostentatiously finicked hair that seems to have been styled with a protractor to get the right angles, when, in fact, they proclaim they were going for the pretentious "just-out-of bed" look. Anyway, the next morning I troddled down the stairs and was about to head out the door to the bus stop, when I realized my shoes were gone.
Immediately, thoughts of copious amounts of Armani cologne and those incessant little Diesel toques flashed through my biased conscience. Although, I have no evidence that they stole my shoes, I find it fishy that the one time my shoes have ever disappeared, the boys with Aqua di Gio running through their veins just happened to be over during the time of the crime.
My cry to you as the reader is: be on the look out for White/Navy Globe shoes, stay away from guys that sweat cologne, and make sure to guard your shoes when they're in your own home.