One Tie All Tie

Pitbull Wins Creepiest Guy of the Year in a Landslide (already…)

Pitbull has been working tirelessly to join the ranks of transcendent tools like Guy Fieri and Kanye on the Mount Rushmore of blowhards. His tremendous effort has not gone unnoticed, by doing things like nicknaming himself Mr. Worldwide and being a walking advertisement for Jos. A. Bank he’s quickly imposed his miserable stench on anyone unfortunate enough to turn on the radio in the last year. Forcing his stink on us, like the person resurrecting curried catfish in the office microwave. Pitbull’s loathsome douchebaggery is elevated by his unwavering verbal creepiness. His eerily shiny/malleable head also compounds how disturbing he is. One hand stroke from a video vixen in the Timber video and the thing was lumpier/greasier than the new cheeseburger pizza at Papa Johns. Below are lyrics and analysis that support his Creep of the Year nomination and award for anyone that may have doubts.

Give Me Everything
1.) “Give me everything tonight, for all we know there might not be tomorrow”
2.) “And I might drink a little more than I should, tonight, and I might take you home with me if I could, tonight”
3.) “Tonight I’m going to make you my queen, and make love to you endless”

Pitbull just butt funneled a handle of well silver rum, and he’s out leveraging doomsday fear to land the hottest, most fearful strange he can find. (1) After stumbling out of the bathroom in a Men’s Warehouse suit, drenched in Drakkar Noir, armed with a sketchy condom he got from the bathroom attendant, Pitbull is officially ready for action. Nothing gets the ladies going like breathing hot rum fumes in their face whilst babbling about a meteor headed for earth, right before jamming a tongue in their ear. (2) Instilling terror is crucial, the apocalypse is a confirmed aphrodisiac. If that doesn’t do it, then certainly the prospect being humped by Pitbull (still wearing his white tuxedo) for one eternity will be enough to bring home a slam piece from the club. (3)

1.) “I’m slicker than an oil spill, she say she won’t but I bet she will…timber”
2.) “One more shot, another round, end of the night it’s going down”
3.) “Swing your partner round and round, end of the night it’s going down”

If fear mongering about the potential end of the world doesn’t work (though it almost always does), then it’s time to pull out a backup plan that’s guaranteed to work. The process is pretty simple according to Pitbull. The first and most important step is drinking fortified wine. A lot of it, enough so that you puke in a potted plant upon arriving at the club.  The room should be spinning when you close your eyes. You should also be smoking the wrong end of a cigarette. (2) Do these and your golden. If you haven’t landed any yet start weaving an elaborate web of drunken lies. She’ll look annoyed or even angered, but all that means is that she’s totally into you. Also make sure your bald head is greasy enough for the person to see their reflection in. (1) When all else fails, pop onto the dance floor barely able to stand up. Grab the closest chick and go into a complete tailspin. Most of your weight should be balanced on this person. Keep spinning until the dizziness causes enough confusion for a potential hookup. (3)

The line in his new song needs no explanation “I just wanna skeet-skeet-skeet, ride out and go, I came, I saw, I conquered, off to the next, let’s go.” Can someone please tell me who actually listens to the man pictured below?