No drinking tonight. No precious sweet bolded words. I know, angels weep. I was suppose to go grab drinks with my boy Cafaro however now I am sitting drinking tea watching crappy tv. I know I know I am a “curled up with my snuggie and chocolate” away from a lifetime special. Yet I will come out the manly one at the end of this story. At least that is what I lied to myself to stop myself from crying into my snuggie.
I feel a little apprehensive for using the term “my boy” when referencing Cafaro. I was mostly trying to up my street cred much like the time I wore my hat backwards for a week after I was caught singing Kelly Clarkson in the shower (she truly is the artist of our generation). Even street cred aside, Cafaro is a strange man. Born in the smack middle of New Jersey, Cafaro grew up as most characters from Jersey Shore did, tactless and Italian.
Cafaro cheers for the Yankees, the Cowboys, The “U” and any professional team that has reasonable track record of success besides the Knicks. The man actually booed when the Death Star blew up. When he isn’t cheering Cobra Kai, Cafaro spends most of his time giving emotional body blows to women. Basically his idea of flirting is systemically destroying a girl’s self esteem then complaining about the end of Mighty Ducks. In the end the girl is so emotionally destroyed she agrees. Terribly unsatisfying sex may follow.
So yes, Cafaro may be the Devil. As my vice president in the fraternity he constantly argued against my stance on letting Asians into the fraternity. Seems pretty manly right? More than the boy sipping his second cup of tea and watching Ugly Betty? Well son, you are dead wrong. Cafaro cancelled a night of drinking because they are putting the family cat down.
That is right, he turned down beer because he was emotionally distraught over a death of a cat, not even his cat. God Lord. It would be one thing if it was a dog, a fish, or some family member maybe but a cat? Cats are only acceptable to weep if you the leader of an evil criminal organization. And even then you are probably wearing a mask and you are going to kill like twenty henchmen in misplaced rage. However Cafaro couldn’t lead a shark to a bloody carcass.
My working theory is Cafaro actually doesn’t have testicles. Instead he spends his time alone singing along to Moulin Rouge and writing letters for Amnesty International. I hope Cafaro enjoys his future as a spinster.
In other news, I should grab some drinks tomorrow as I watch Alabama cover 4. Roll Tide!
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