Standing on a street corner, lit Newport (always, I SWEAR) in hand, chub-in-skinny-jeans wears thick framed lens-less glasses and a pyramid belt to get down and hipster, guzzles tallboys of Bud, and never notices that he possesses a muffin top, accented by a too-tight band t-shirt (and it's usually a really shitty band, no?), sideways trucker hat, and some sort of cord choker situation (hearkening of DB #2, WHAT a recurring theme!). The chub-in-skinny-jeans is usually a huge DOUCHEBAG, proud of the poor souls he's already seduced, and resentful towards the attractive broads he hasn't (they know better). Because of this bitterness he usually points out female imperfections and criticizes dates for "not being hot enough"--seriously lame. In addition, why does the chub-in-skinny-jeans also opt for a severe bootleg some of the time? Clearly they are ladies jeans, as they hug the thigh and flare out at the ankle. What's the point, dude??? M-I-N-I-M-I-Z-E. Or at least buy some straight legs.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
"So Euro", or, more familiarly, "Eurotrash" style doesn't necessarily equate to the dude's country of origin. If he is indeed European, homeboy has a poor excuse for his seemingly declasse taste, but in the U.S. "So Euro", is a blatantly related derivative of the guido, which corresponds to outlandish, tacky style, overcoiffed hair, and an undying passion for Scandinavian techno beats. Highlights, overly distressed denim, philandering, and a penchant for shirts unbuttoned to display a huge amount of chest hair/medallions also serve as a marker for this dude. Expect invitations to hit up the Pacha in Ibiza and to hold his tinted sunglasses while he takes a Speedo-clad dip in the hotel pool. Don't say we didn't warn you.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
This is some freaky shit.
Even as second-graders back in the day, learning about punctuation, doodling in Lisa Frank notebooks, secretly playing with Polly Pockets inside your desk (you know it!), and being generally wholesome, the sight of a well-developed, healthy rat tail peeking over someone's Power Rangers sweatshirt inspired frantic terror, fear, and unadulterated disgust.
Somewhere out there a little girl took a look across the classroom, put down that pencil, and thought, "Oh, hell NO!"
Let's fast forward fifteen years, and that feeling remains ever so true. Minus the Power Rangers sweats and plus an Insane Clown Posse tee, the rat tail perpetuates as a distinctive mark of the trailer park. This lil' prepubescent bro of the mullet surfaces at the least likely moments, at highway rest stops, Wal-marts, and in the wilds of middle America, but once in awhile in a bodega on Avenue B.
Monday, October 12, 2009
A culture unto it's own, the legions of dudes who pledge their allegiance to the escapist and somewhat fetishistic world of anime culture (let's also not discount Dungeons and Dragons, Magic the Gathering, World of Warcraft, and other organized virtual games that stimulate similar feelings of fervor and reverence) also have an extremely intimate relationship with their right hand.
Friday, October 9, 2009
A wise woman once said, "A dread grows in Brooklyn."
Whether you refer to them as "travelers", "squatters", "nomads" or "drifters," all that's really is true is that they're just rich white kids from Westchester trying to embrace the Rasta lifestyle. Somewhat indigenous to New York City, they tend to congregate around Tompkins Square Park, seeking some form of bohemian flavor that exited the joint 30+ years ago. They are eternally marked by lack of one shoe, mystifying stench, ubiquitous septum piercing, and three-legged dog accessory. You can win their favor by offering a hit off your J, but we would recommend that you don't take it back.
Guy: "So I was hanging out with Jeremy Piven last week. . .and then we hit up Greenhouse and met up with Wilmer, yeah, man, it was totally hot, free bottles all around. . .but anyways, so back to what I was saying. . ."
Despite the fact the no one gives a shit about Wilmer Valderrama (when was he last relevant? 2004?! All his cash money's got to be gone by now), some dudes need to keep their status sounding high in the party scene, even if they don't actually party. It's all about the illusion, or, rather, delusions of grandeur. The dudes may think that with these connections they may be scoring some sweet, young ass, but we really don't care about whose dick they've been sucking.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Why does this exist? The coupling of a so-called "all-terrain" XTREME sandal and crisp white socks is a situation so dire, it makes the baby Jesus cry.
The will to "be one with nature" (this is a male theme that resonates not only with the Teva, but also with shark-tooth necklaces and woven hemp bracelets) attracts the male to the "all terrain" promise, but clearly the matching of the sandal with the sock is some sort of "laid back" ideology akin to that of the mullet. You know, business in the front/party in the back? Instead it assumes the psudeomachismo hiker/housebunny dynamic. Velcro is also involved. Fin.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
The ladies who brought "Pathetic Performance Artists" to the attention of dealbreakersblog intended it as a shout-out against the whiny artist bro-types they encountered at their respective art school.
We decided to take it to the next level, encompassing all sorts of pathetic performance bros: magicians, shitty musicians, and comedian dudes who insist "You just gottaaa come to my show!!!" when all it really boils down to is a blatant shitfest of douchebaggery.
These guys tend to think that not only are they exceptionally talented, they also must cultivate a "look" that goes with their craft, usually including a lot of eyeliner, excessive hair styling, man jewlery (#2), and muscle shirts. Even though Mystery (self-acclaimed "Pick Up Artist"/fourth dude down) isn't really a "performer," he thinks he is (yeah, in that fucking Jamiroquai steez). And isn't that what it's all about?
Monday, October 5, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
What happened to Leonardo DiCaprio? We may never know.
Getting wide might just be a part of getting older (or not), but something is definitely happening within the body's chemistry in order for this sort of ballooning to occur.
Another dire situation is in the increase of the body's Z-Axis. Let's examine this in the mathematical sense:
If x= length, y = height, and z= width, an increase to the z-axis is usually formed with the emergence of a) a bubble butt b) man boobs, or c)fundamental thickness. Being a "thick" dude bodes well for drill sergeants, professional wrestlers, and bounty hunters, but if he once was lean and limber, it's just a goddamn shame.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Here at dealbreakers HQ, the discussion of chest hair versus no chest hair has exploded into a fierce debate. What is more of a dealbreaker? Too much chest hair leads one into gorilla territory while none at all hearkens of being too high maintenance/Looking Like Son (#36 on our dealbreaker list). While it seems that the only options for ladies are either Geico caveman or Fabio, we beg to differ. It's all about moderation. A well-tended/cultivated chest of hair conjures up feelings of experience and maturity. Too much and you should be headed to the "Back, Crack, and Sack" waxing/threading place on 14th Street. Too little?Go through puberty/stop the bitchassness and bid adieu to your favorite waxer/start a gardening project.
Whether ragged, buffed, manicured, or left to decay, the long fingernail is clearly not one of the most attractive male characteristics. While he may protest, saying "Hey babe, that's my guitar/coke/scratchin' my butt nail!!" don't back down. It's kind of like dogs. Drug him, strap him down, and bring him to the vet for a clipping. It's that easy.