Now that the fundamentals of science have been applied, we move onto the next phase of guidonomics. Similar to drug addiction, the next plausible stage is denial. Merriam-Webster defines denial as a refusal to admit the truth or reality; or a negation in logic. Negating logic was precisely what I had been involuntarily executing in my subconscious. How could the patrons of a school in the middle of the Texas Hill Country be so obsessed with acting like giant douches while getting their "drink on" at the "club?" Why was it necessary to spray tan and spend countless hours at the gym getting "swoll?" Thusly, when something makes little sense to me, I deny it's existence. My school isn't filled with guidos... Unfortunately, my denial doesn't erase facts.
A journey to the rec was like time-traveling to the St. Louis Cardinals club house circa 1997. To put it lightly let's just say I understand why some folks enjoy Joose so much. That being said, I am not a doctor (or remotely close) but I understand the importance of taking care of your body, but modifying your "sanctuary" synthetically cannot be safe. Anyway, upon my arrival at the gym, I would swim my way through the barrage of back acne, sweet well-kempt facial hair and cut-off Ed Hardy t-shirts to do my 20 minute run on the elliptical, followed by a few pick up games of basketball. Understandably, the rec center had become the capital of the Guido Chapter at Texas State. So, my voyage took me elsewhere.
The bar scene of San Marcos and later 6th Street in Austin have always been near and dear to my heart. Something about a $4.50 beer that you have to wait in line for just makes it taste that much better than a bitch-ass store bought beer. Again, times were simple and good. We would laugh at bars like Waterdogs that would open and close as fast as a shitty Asian buffet.
Seemingly out of nowhere came The Vault, a club that many in my cabinet thought would set the record for the quickest failed investment on the Square. I was mistaken. The Vault thrived. In fact, The Vault became popular and usually had a line like it was the damn Roxbury.
Being the curious investigator I am, I waited in line to see what this place was all about. The adjudication was typical. I hadn't smelt so much Axe Body Spray since going to family dinner with my stoner friends sophomore year of high school, the music was loud and above all and annoying as hell, and last but not least, everyone in their looked like MMA fighters. So, The Vault could possibly be the worst place in the world for someone like me, unless of course, I wanted to get my ass kicked by over aggressive gym rats with confidence issues.
So the jury met and the verdict issued. My school is filled with guidos, and I have to accept the fact. However, tolerance and acceptance are two different beasts. I can accept that their are gel-heads running around my campus, but one may tolerate another person but not accept them. I believe this is precisely the fork in the road at which I have arrived. It is difficult for me to accept someone whom is so infatuated with his own body that he would sleep with himself if that was somehow possible. I can sit idly by and tolerate said individual without the need to accept him.
Maybe one day I will be able to fully understand and eventually accept the guido, but until then they are just a shitty fad like Furbees, Pokemon and Kid n Play. This concludes the 2nd and final entry of the guido trilogy.
Do I smell tweed and ironic mustaches? That's a sweet single speed Schwinn...
I must lay claim to the fact that I, Johnny Guido, over the course of the last 4 years of my feeble attempt to avoid becoming the scum you speak of, have found myself using hair product, Axe body spray, and a majorly over aggressive/confident attitude during my brazen pick-up attempts.
ReplyDeleteHowever, I must admit how ashamed I am in my actions. I single handedly let down the Texas State Greek system. Growing up, all I could imagine myself doing was wearing Sperry’s, flaunting multi-colored polo’s, and sporting backward trucker hats filled with phrases like “old south” or “Dixie does Dallas.” I would have never thought in a million years my life would be smoking Marlboro reds on Sage wood and playing endless games of flip cup with liberal arts girls.
I ask you forgiveness young Sam. Please allow me your company.
-Johnny