Salutations, traveler of The Internets! Welcome to William's Bloody Hell, so named after our founder, Sir Bloody William.
He is seen in the likeness above in a rare, 19th century woodcut. This
image was rumoured to have been
commissioned after a bout of unpleasantness
in the White Chapel district of London. Do enjoy your stay and peruse our many, varied offerings, much of which cannot be found elsewhere!
:: Today's soundtrack: Tiga "You Gonna Want Me" ::
I decided to take a cue from one of my internet idols, Tatsuya Ishida, and become sexy. My only problem is, there doesn't seem to be any sort of manual to prepare one in the becoming, remaining, and enduring a lifestyle of sexiness.
First of all, to paraphrase Granpa Simpson: I used to have "it." Then they changed what "it" was and now whatever "it" is frightens me. I have a feeling that when I was a young, rapscallion nigh on nineteen years of age, I may have had a fraction of what you people call "sexy." Unfortunately for me, I had absolutely no idea at the time and therefore was unable to take advantage of my sexitude. Now that I am bound and determined to reclaim my semi-sexy roots, I am prepared to utilize it to its full potential.
But how does one go out and become sexy? There seem to be different rules for men and women. A woman can throw on a man's dress shirt with just-got-out-of-bed hair and look like the sexiest thing alive. If I were to try that, I would look like a weirdo pervert freak and be tazed by the police. I tried a Google search for images relating to sexy and got photos of women only (and one donkey. don't ask me. I have no idea either). I know what makes a woman sexy, but what about a man?
See, us men types have several items to contend with. Okay, so most of them revolve around hair. How much hair on the face equals sexy stubble versus too lazy to shave? How much chest hair says manly man, and how much says I'm-so-hairy-I've-been-mistaken-for-Bigfoot? Then there are guys who shave their chests. I've often wondered about that. Is that sexy?
Maybe I ought to opt for a "look" for my sexiness. I could always take this whole goth-punk thing to the next level. Use styling product in my hair. May as well get bleached streaks while I'm at it. Shove a safety pin through my nostril. Wear only pants that have no less than seven zippers on them. Three wallet chains (coz if one looks good then three is three times as much, right?). Get me a few giant belt buckles. Get a subscription to Black Shirt Monthly. Wear shirts covered in straps and buckles which do nothing but look awesome. Yes, I'll be a lumbering, gigantic goth-punk beast, clad in black and stainless steel. I'll make clanking noises as a walk from all of the metal bouncing off each other. THAT's sexy, right?
Or maybe I need to go in another direction. Maybe I should only wear shirts made of the finest silk and only button them up halfway. I'll grow my hair long and speak in European accents. After everything I say I'll look at whom I'm speaking and arch an eyebrow suggestively. I don't know. This sort of sexy feels like it would require a complete lifestyle change on my part. I mean, I'd have to redecorate my house to include nude sculpture, wear banana hammock-style undies, get a different car, a subscription to Penthouse, a whole other group of sexy Italian friends...
On second thought, forget it. It seems like too much work. I mean getting sexy, maintaining a constant level of sexiness, and my god, having to endure a whole life of nothing but sexiness would just be too much. I don't think I could stand all of the non-stop attention from the ladies I would surely get if I were to become sexy. Also, I don't think I'd be able to handle all of the hearts I would break if I were a sexy beast. That's right, I'm giving up on turning sexy for you, ladies. Because I care about not hurting your feelings, I'm going to hold off on the sexy. It's for your own good.
William (ready for a romance novel cover)
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