October 9, 2014 | celebrity | matt-ralston | 0 Comments
The amount of ass Aziz Ansari gets simply for being on television is a cosmological discrepancy bestowed onto no other. Ashton Kutcher still would be getting hummers in the break room if he swept floors at Home Depot. Ansari would have remained a bobbleheaded virgin into his later years had someone from NBC’s Diversity Department not found him passable instead of grating and obnoxious. He needs to know his limits. The chicks willing to get down with Ansari are limited squarely to tourists from Iowa and desperate fringe Hollywood actresses with amphetamine addictions. Ansari went on Howard Stern and explained how he was able to snake Blake Lively’s number and how she ignored his texts while most likely shuddering at the idea of being close to him. The most pathetic in the stream is this gem coming after a string of non responses:
“I’m going to the Boom Boom Room for that afterparty. Hopefully this is your number? Either way, good seeing you.”
We’ve all been there. It’s her number, she doesn’t like you. This is the last ditch effort before throwing in the towel and getting incredibly wasted while your friends ask you what’s wrong and you mumble about what a fucking moron you are. You will probably learn to let it go within a few months, at which point you will see the chick at the Red Robin and hide in the corner. At this point you will feel vulnerable, get wasted again, take your phone out, and repeat the process with some other chick who thinks you’re gross.
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