Three of these girls are clearly attention cravers. Can you guess who they are?

Everybody knows the type: “Ooohh my God, OMFG, I am a girl, hear me roar about things that are cliché, typical, and over talked about. Because I am a girl and because I always talk in this curt, opinionated tone, everyone will listen to what I say, even if I don’t have a clue how to say it. I don’t have to be pleasant or thoughtful or a nice person in general, as long as I am dramatic about everything. People will think that my stubbornness and otherwise generally negative outlook on everything is cute and poignant. I will always take the point of view that is easiest to defend, and I will back it up to a fault. Maybe one day I will grow out of this, but not right now…shit, not any time soon. I’m having too much fun annoying the crap out of everyone.”

Attention cravers are a very real problem in this day and age. They will find fault in everything and complain or comment about anything, just so long as it evokes a response from someone else. Here are a few buzz kills to look out for:

The Light Weight: 

“Holy shit, it’s FRIDAY. I have been working all week, annoying all of my coworkers and surfing the internet in my cubicle. I totally deserve to get WASTED!!”

This is the girl who seems to have no regard for her own limits, as far as drinking goes. She sees no problem going to the club and spending 200 dollars on fruity shots that she is going to barf up in your car on the way home. Try and suggest slowing down a little? She will just drink faster, because you don’t control her, Goddammit. She is way too mature to drink only two or three shots and then switch to beer. Tonight is her night, and she has the right to make an ass of herself.   

Men, have fun watching the rest of your night unravel before your eyes. You should probably just leave as soon as she yells in broken, drunk English to her friends, “Who wants RED-HEADED SLUTS!?!?!?!?!” I’m sure someone responsible will give her a ride home.

The Shopper:

“OMG, today I was at the mall, and Banana Republic had like the exact coat I have been looking for. I was a little upset when I saw that it was 1,400 bucks, but I had a coupon for 0.8 percent off, so it was a total steal!!” 

This is the girl who is in a relationship with a poor sap who is constantly forced to go to the mall with her. He is also expected to buy her presents on random, made up holidays. I.e. The day that we got the dog: our Doggie Anniversary. She constantly buys Gucci wallets, and Steve Maddens shoes, and Coach and Dooney and Burke purses, even though she can’t afford it. Her credit card bills are out of control, but it’s alright because everyone will see her new bag and it will be totally hip at the club on Friday, until she drinks too many apple martini’s and throws up in it (see the light weight).

Do yourself a favor guys, and set some limits before you and your girlfriend find yourselves on a FreeCreditReport.com commercial.   

The Anti-Boyfriend Girlfriend: 

“Oh he is such a jerk. Friday night we were totally were supposed to go to the mall and then to the Melting Pot (see the shopper). It was our 37th month anniversary and I was waiting at his apartment for 2 hours and he never showed up. He just went out and got drunk with his buddies again. I have like absolutely had it…”

This is the girl who is in a committed relationship with someone you’ve never met.  Maybe you know her from work, or from class, or maybe she’s just a friend of a friend that hangs around way too much. She constantly gripes and complains about her significant other and it makes you want to leave whatever room that she is in. However, she WILL NOT break up with him, because she is just getting way too much attention bitching about him. This particular type of girl becomes especially infuriating if she is somewhat attractive. Usually in this situation there is a group of guys that she will incessantly confide in, and they will listen intently for the chance to be next in line. Sadly, they will never have that chance. Her boyfriend could cheat on her with a stripper that he invited to her house on Friday, and she would just complain about it to her girlfriends, and continue to nag him on Saturday.

Fellas, if you think you are in this situation, you should just break up with her yourself. It’s only going to get worse before it gets better, because she’s going to stick it out until one of the two of you is committed. Conversely, if you are one of the confidants, punch yourself in the face a few times, and move on, chump. 

The Agitated Caller:

Her: “Hey.”

Him: “Hey.”

Her: “What’s going on?”

Him: “Not too much, just working on this paper. I’m still coming over in a couple hours.”

Her: “Oh ok.” (Pause for 30 seconds)

Him: Well, I guess I’ll finish this up and be over in a bit??”

Her: “FINE! I guess I’ll just sit here and wait on you AGAIN! I spend all my time trying to talk to you, but you never have anything to say. I’m so sick of it.”

This type of girl wants to call and listen to you breathe on the phone. That’s it. She has nothing to say. She doesn’t really know why she called, she just did. She expects you to say something, though that’s really as far as she’s gotten. Because she doesn’t know what she wants you to say, she will get mad as soon as you say it. Then, when you see that things have taken an annoying turn for the worst, you try to end the conversation, which only makes her angrier.

There is no winning this fight for attention. It is the most irrational and therefore the most difficult to curb. You might as well just throw your damn phone in the toilet and go to the bar. 

The Know-It-All:

“I don’t believe in creationism; all humans evolved from monkeys. The capital of California is Los Angeles. I got a B+ in GHIST 225.”

This is the girl that conforms to and defends points of view that are popular, or just completely wrong, but has no idea how to summarize her beliefs for someone who is interested to know how she feels or what she thinks. This inability to relay her opinions manifests itself in a defensive style of debating (about absolutely anything) that makes her look completely incompetent, though she’ll never admit it. 

In exemplum, during a conversation about our government, a girl at my office last year in Gainesville, Virginia told me that The House of Representatives has two spokespersons from each state, and the Senate is made up of representatives based on the population of each state. I tried to explain in a helpful manner that she was wrong, and she just had the idea flip-flopped, but there was no talking to her:

“I went to Longwood (OHHH BOY, I’m sure you’ll get a job on Capitol Hill) and studied political science for four years, and you’re going to tell me that I’m wrong about this??? What was your major???”

Ugh. Awful.

In conclusion, I want to assert that this is not a jab at girls in general, just the ones that irk the shit out of me on a day-to-day basis. You, collectively, are the reason that stereotypes are formed. Your loud, obnoxious, fruity-shot-taking, J. Crew shopping, irrational fight picking, argumentative ways are not cute or attractive. They will not help you get boys, they will not improve doomed relationships, and they will not make others take your points to heart. Please, if you’re a girl that has any of these types of personalities, stop it. Please just stop it, before people’s heads start exploding.

Readers, what other categories did I miss? Let me know what you think.

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This is the story of James the Pee Walrus and his hilariously awful adventures. Names have been changed to protect the innocent. Well, except for the Pee Walrus. His name really was James. He was a lumbering, 260-pound, oaf of a man who lived in our freshman year dorm in college. He started off the school year as roommates with our good friend Matty, who later opted to move out of his room because of the unsanitary lifestyle to which pee walrus was accustomed.

James was the quintessential, “I’m in college but really shouldn’t be because there are too many temptations and I’m an idiot,” head case. He was always drunk, always begging for people to smoke him out, always looking for free blow, etc. etc. etc. Needless to say he lasted 2 semesters at school, and as far as I know, not many folks have heard from him since.

These are just a few accounts of the ridiculous shenanigans that this poor sap got himself into:

The Pee Keeper

James, as many young people with drinking problems do, had a problem with his urinary habits while intoxicated. It was a rather large issue for him, and not one that fit well in a close living environment with a roommate. Many times, James would come home to his dorm room, well-past inebriated, and fall asleep. At some point during the evening he would wake up and need to use the bathroom. Well, rather than getting his ass out of bed, and walking the 50 feet down the hall to the bathroom, our hero decided it would be a better idea to feel around his room in the dark for an empty bottle to use. Unfortunately, on one particular night, he grabbed one of the bottles from a Costco pack of apple juice that his roommate Matty had bought. He decided he would keep it by his bed, and used it several times. Well, when Matty returned from being away for the weekend, he sensed something had gone quite awry with his apple juice. When the Pee Walrus admitted what had happened, Matty dumped every bottle of apple juice out and punched his roommate in the face and kicked him out of his room: just one of several violent evictions that would eventually be dealt to our hero by Matty.

B&E, Pee Walrus Style:

As the Pee Walrus went on with his very short college career, it became increasingly clear that his elevator rarely went all the way to the top. Every relationship he forged, it seemed, was doomed to end in disaster. It was more of the same with his neighbors across the hall, Allen and Billy. One drunken night, our hero returned from a typical night of drinking, doing drugs, and otherwise just being an idiot. However, this was an evening that became rather atypical indeed. As he approached his room, something misfired in his head, causing him to take a right, instead of a left. When the door wouldn’t open (because it wasn’t his room), he just broke it down. Simple enough, but then the mayhem began.  Like a tranquilized circus bear, the Pee Walrus laid havoc to Allen’s and Billy’s room, turning over dressers, flipping mattresses, smashing lamps, destroying books and other personal property. Eventually, he made his way to Billy’s laptop, opened it up, peed all over the key board and the replaced it in the drawer he took it from. Allegedly, he then left Allen and Billy’s room and went back to his Pee Walrus den, which, at this point, Matty had moved out of, for obvious reasons. The incidents of this night led to some legal proceedings, rendering Allen and Billy and the Pee Walrus no longer friends.

Pee Walrus: Humiliated

This tale of hilarity begins much in the same way as the other two. On one particular night, the Pee Walrus returned home, his polluted brain struggling to hang onto his own name. This was an especially trying night of making himself dumber, so he decided before retiring to make his way to the bathroom to shower up.

At 6:00 that morning, Allen woke up to use the restroom, only to find the hallway on our floor flooded. He made his way to the bathroom and noticed water running out from under the door. Upon entering, a plume of steam hit him in the face and he heard the shower running. He walked to the end of the room, and knocked on the shower stall from which the steam was billowing. “Uuugh,” was the response. Allen pushed the door open, revealing a very drunk, very red, and very naked Pee Walrus sitting in the floor of the shower, leaning against the tile wall, his huge ass blocking the drain. He had been there since 2:00 a.m., burning the shit out of himself and flooding the entire building. We lived on the six floor of Eagle Hall, so between the hours of 2 and 6, the water ran throughout our level, down the elevator shafts and stairways, eventually reaching the ground floor and pooling up outside the laundry room. It was quite a proud day for our hero.

The Last Hoorah: Pee Walrus Strikes Again

Now we all remember Matty, the unlucky recipient of the Pee Walrus as a random roommate at our beloved alma mater. Well due to extenuating circumstances involving the Pee Walrus and his antics, Matty relocated across campus for the last few months of our freshman year. Things were going well for Matty, now free from the drunken clutches of our hero. His grades were good, and he had become friends with his new roommate. One fateful evening, Matty returned home from a night out with us boys. He made his way into his dormitory building and up the stairs to his hallway. He got to his door, pulled out his key and grabbed the knob, but to his surprise the door was open. He slowly opened the door and glanced at his bed, which was occupied by some large, heaving, snoring blob of a man. He then dashed for the light, turned it on and revealed the Pee Walrus, passed out on his bed, the mattress ruined with urine. Matty, enraged, grabbed the sleeping Pee Walrus, punched him in the face a few times, pushed him out into the hallway, and locked the door to his room. The Pee Walrus stood outside the room, confused and drunk, and began sobbing. Matty, sat by the door and waited for the Walrus to leave. Eventually the drunken, fat crying ceased, and Matty fell asleep in his roommate’s bed, who thankfully was out of town for the weekend.
In the morning, the Pee Walrus was gone.

That was the last anyone heard of our hero. A few weeks later we all went away for summer vacation, excited about the coming fall when we would all move into our first apartments. The Pee Walrus did not return to school for the fall term. Somewhere between peeing his pants everyday and destroying any chance of friendship with his ridiculous drunken escapades, it became clear that college was just not for him. Now, years later, I’m sure we all feel a sense of sympathy for our hero. But goddamn, he was a funny bastard. And I’m certainly glad he wasn’t my roommate.

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I want to make something clear before I start writing this article. I am from Lynchburg, Virginia, which is a medium-sized, middle class town in the central, piedmont region of the state. Here, country music is a moderately big deal and has an average to below average following; a stark contrast to the rest of Virginia, and what I describe as the “wanna-be south.” This is why I believe that while I was growing up, country music was something that I would tolerate always, and celebrate occasionally.   

In good ol’ Lburg, there are probably two country radio stations, a classic/new alternative rock station, a national public radio station, and two new poppy “kissy” FM stations that play Christina Aguilera and Nickelback and cause an of average 3 or 4 suicides a year. There are others, but they come and go, so who really cares. In the grand scheme of things, country music is what I would describe as tepidly popular, but not annoying or over the top.

In January of this year I moved to Austin, Texas, after living for a year with my buddies from college in Northern Virginia (which is an entirely different article altogether). Now, Austin, as a whole, is an incredible city.  Smack dab in the middle of the most republican, close-minded, redneck state in the union, is the liberal oasis that I now call home (rarely do I venture north, south, east, or west, unless I’m on a  plane). There are a ton of bars, lots of live music, a dozen golf courses and countless outdoor activities within a half hour. The weather is gorgeous 11 months of the year and perfect for a lot of the things that I like to do. I have enjoyed the 8 months that I have lived here so far, and I can reasonably say that I will be here at least for a few more years.

A view of downtown Austin

The music and the bands that frequent the bars downtown and in the greater Austin area, is/are typically of a rock and roll genre, with hints of wherever that particular band is from. There is also a lot of progressive, folk, foreign, and other genres which I respectfully refer to as “look at me I’m a hippie and I listen to this,” music. I listen to a station in Austin that includes all of these, and I consider it to be the best station I have listened to. Ergo, the music here is good (another disclaimer of sorts).

There is however a genre of music that I have been exposed to here and, with conviction, I can say it is the most annoying music of all.  The “music” that I’m referring to is, you guessed it (or probably you didn’t), TEXAS COUNTRY.

My first reaction to this garbage was “why does it have to be Texas Country?” Everywhere else in the United States, just “country” is good enough. What if I was talking to someone and they asked me what my favorite music was and I said, “Well I enjoy jazz, but my real passion is Connecticut Country.”  Come on, that shit just sounds ridiculous.  Well, it’s not ridiculous in Texas.

Bands

The bands for the most part are from Texas, tour Texas (because it’s fuckin big enough), sing about Texas, and talk about Texas at their shows. They may also venture into Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Louisiana, but rarely. They have tour buses, they have roadies and crews, they have all the same shit normal bands do. But they aren’t typical country music artists. They’re confusing because they dress like Tommy Lee and Dave Navarro, wearing their sandblasted jeans from Express for men and their gothic full fronted graphic tees from Hot Topic. A mix between Gavin Rossdale or Scott Stap and Toby Keith would be an appropriate description of the typical Texas country artist. They are distinctly reminiscent of what we used to call “posers” in middle school. 

"Look at us, we play country music but we're totally HIP, brah."

Lyrics

Now, we all know that country music, while wildly popular in many areas, can be a little simple. Such themes as “drinking down by the river,” “riding shotgun,” and “her daddy on the porch with a shotgun,” are popular.  Also, metaphors like “as dry and warm as the Texas plains,” “deeper than the holler” (which I think is redneck for hollow, but who can tell), and “my windshields cracked, just like my heart” are mainstays. It’s more of the same with Texas country, but the difference is that’s all there really is. Just those types of lyrics, every song, all the time. Here’s a good example. This is a song by Wade Bowen, from Who the Hell Cares, Texas, near Lubbock. It’s called “God Bless this Town:”

You just thought that you knew about rumors man
But you ain’t ever lived in my town
Population 153
And it’s still goin down
What’s his name’s runnin’ around with Mary
Hell last I heard he’s already been married 3 times

I would estimate that 30% of Texas Country songs are about small towns just like the one so eloquently described here. Painful.

Wow, what a douche bag.

Fans

There is a place in Texas call Gruene, pronounced like the color green. Here, every weekend during the summer, throngs of people come to tube the Guadalupe River. This is an activity where you pay a company cash (no credit cards) to give you the inner tube of a semi tractor trailer tire, haul you down a rickety road in a bus that failed inspection in 1979, and dump you off at a spot on the river. You can take a cooler with beer, which may be the only saving grace of this bullshit of a Saturday. Then you get in the river, and you float on your tube, among a bunch of drunk people giving themselves alcohol poisoning and dehydrating in the 107 degree Texas sun.  And what, you ask, is blaring from every damn boombox on the river?  Texas Country. This is just one of several activities that are complimented by this shitty music.

Texas Country fans photographed in their natural habitat

Covers

Do not, I repeat do not, take a song that I have listened to and enjoyed my whole life, by an artist who is 50 times more successful than you, add some steel guitar and some idiot wearing a bandana, and play it on your tour.  An example is “Into the Mystic,” by Van Morrison, covered by Stoney Larue.  Do yourself a favor and DON’T check it out.

In closing I want to say, as I said before, I used to tolerate and even enjoy country music. There are some good songs, and some bad songs, some good and bad artists. But I will pretty much listen to anything. I think that my issue with Texas Country is the arrogance involved in it. Some people really think that this is the best music available. And there are a lot of people like that living right here in Austin. Now I can’t even listen to regular country music, which is the point of the article, and I’m bitter. If I hear one more person say, “I’ll listen to anything, as long as it’s Texas Country, and as long as it’s loud!” I am just going to snap.