How do you know when you’re “that guy”?

Posted: December 4, 2012 in Self-Deprecation
Tags: , , , ,

Well, if the cat wasn’t out of the bag before– well here it is.  This guy’s been out of a job, because the insurance biz didn’t pan out the way I wanted it to (read: hung me out to dry like a Jewish carpenter).   Instead of bouncing back three days later with glory and awesome– I’m back at square effing one.  In the meantime, I’m freelancing (read: searching for appropriate places to submit my already-written pieces of prose and/or poetry, as well as trying to get to accept a pitch.).  However, that just means I’m going every bit as crazy as I was around the beginning of this whole blog thing I’m doing– except I’m able bodied and have nothing to do with it.  Ha ha, very funny, I set you up for that gimme.  I’ve heard more creative self-pleasure jokes out of ten year old boys.

Yeah, they were precocious little bastards, and they had a grip on comedy–  but I digress.

Anyway, aside from slinging my resume around with the prolific enthusiasm as a pornstar chucking his baby batter, I’ve had a lot of time for introspection.  (Read:  Watch the shit outta Netflix and Hulu+.  Yep, it’s going to be one of those entries, so get used to the parentheticals.)   So back to the putting myself under a microscope– you can learn a lot about a person just by looking at their favorite characters.


You’d think this’d happen to me a lot more often. Some of you even catch the inside-inside-inside joke.

Let’s see, what can you draw from this list of characters?  Except for the first one, this list is in no particular order.

  • Benjamin Franklin Pierce aka “Hawkeye” — M.A.S.H.
  • Van Wilder — (Do I really need to tell you where this one came from?)
  • Monty — Waiting
  • Barney Stinson — How I Met Your Mother
  • Charlie Harper — Two and a Half Men
  • Anthony DiNozzo — N.C.I.S.
  • Tony Stark — Iron Man/Avengers
  • Ted — (see the caption for Van Wilder)

For fear of further muddling the selection pool, I’ll stop there.  Can we all draw the same conclusion?  All known for insane amounts of panache, some self-deprecating humor, intoxicants…  ladies (as not-so-coyly insinuated by my love, Cortana)…  All fit the same mold for the most desirable definition of….  *wait for it*

You want to be me.

Yup. Not the one that scares off the girls. Not the one who gets belligerent after drunk. Not even the one that gets arrested for stupidity. No no. I’m THAT guy… no, the other that guy.  Dammit, people, work with me here!

I maintain that I identify with these characters due to wit, panache, presentation, alcohol tolerance, and overall awesome.  These guys are the ones you want to be with, the ones that put the positive spin on the concept of a “brofist.”  I mean holy shit, Alan Alda even said he modeled Hawkeye after Groucho Marx– the closest thing I have to a patron saint.  While I was playing connect the dots with this totally-not-arbitrary grouping of favorites, Cortana also pointed out that all of these guys are serial womanizers.  Well shit, that’s not what a guy wants to hear from his fiancee, right?  Right, so don’t judge me– it’s time to play defense!

I’m not a womanizer– womanizers lie, and that’s something I just don’t do (read: seeing peoples reactions to the truth is, by far, more entertaining… and easier to remember).  I may or may not have favor among those with two X chromosomes (and the occasional Y), but *ahem* “haters gonna hate,” right?  Yeah, I kinda loathe myself for even using that term, reference, and phrase.  I apologize to all of you with IQs over that of mayonnaise. (read: I should have hit backspace, but I’ll settle for lip service.  Interesting note, mayo has a registered IQ of 2.)  Enough of that dose of mental Novocaine, let’s get back to the point at hand.  Just because I’ve got a lascivious tongue that’s faster than your mom after two margaritas doesn’t mean I’m automatically a womanizer.  It just means I’ve developed/earned an uncommon degree of social confidence (read: ran out of f***s to give– an essential part of being awesome).  It’s called personality, right?  Moxie?  Wit?  Panache?  Or as the white-flag-wavers would say, “Je ne sais quoi?”


… or maybe “The Fonzarelli Factor”?

So yeah, all of the qualities I identified with (read: publicly admit to admiring) have a side effect besides my usual shameless narcissism.  Oh wait, all of those characters are also shameless narcissists!  See?  People’s favorite characters reveal a mirror they have found that they identify with– and the assumed side effects that come wi…

Oh shit.

I am “that guy.”

Screw it.  I’m awesome.  Now someone give me a job, because “that guy” also gets the job done– the right way– before happy hour.
Not to mention:  my flavor of “that guy” never sticks anyone with the tab.


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