Yo dude, I fucking HATE your Birkenstocks. Those pieces of cork and rubber strapped to your feet by leather, yeah, those pieces of shit. I know it's superficial and I know I'm a bad guy, but what the fuck do you think you’re doing with them on? You think you’re cool? Yea bro, you’re mad cool looking like you're Dave Matthews Band's 3rd string roadie. I can’t believe you actually saw somebody wearing them and actually said to yourself, “Yo, those things look mad comfy and I’m going to be pulling so many chicks with these. Cozy boyz 4 lyfe.”

The only thing worse in the entire world than a Birkenstock clog? A Birkenstock strap. The only thing worse than that? Two Birkenstock straps. Like, are you fucking kidding right now, 2 Strapz? You really thought it was a good idea to buy a double strap 'Stock and wear a pair of calf socks with them? You might as well pull the katanas down from your wall and call yourself Leonardo, you Teenage Mutant Ninja Virgin. The only thing worse than an OG Birkenstock is a wool Birkenstock that you bought specifically for the winter. Fuck you and your season optimizing shoe company of choice for trying to shove those ugly joints down my throat for 4 seasons, 365 days, 24/7. Do you even take holidays off? The last thing I want to see is you floating down the sidewalk atop your granola chariots of trash on days where I’m just trying to relax.

Birkenstocks are the only things that give me whiskey dick quicker than whiskey.

True story, my high school sweetheart came to my job the other day to say hello for the first time in two years. And mind you, she was bad back in the day. No bullshit, she made me look like shit every time we went out to the park to just sit around, drink Mike’s Hard Lemonades and talk about all the gossip from Dr. Castalano's homeroom. Now, I hadn't seen her in two years and I was still expecting the sexy ass, swagged out chick I remembered fondly. Well, it turns out that her last two years she spent at Michigan had turned her into a complete hippie. And guess what she had the nerve to wear on her feet? Yep, Birkenstocks. You know those feelings you always kind of have for your high school sweetheart? They’re like the first person you love or some shit like that? Yea, I have no idea what that even feels like anymore—it just up and vanished. I’m completely numb. My pants don't even flinch when I think of her.

Birkenstocks are the only things that give me whiskey dick quicker than whiskey. That’s right. I'm going to start calling it "Birkenstock dick." Never mind drunk, I get that shit when I’m going on five days sober and I just happen to glance a single pair of 'Stocks out of the corner of my eye. There is absolutely no way I can be sexually attracted to you when there’s a pair of dusty ass 'Stocks sitting in the corner of your room. No fucking way. I’m sorry honey, but the second I see those things I’m picking up my clothes, peeling off the prophylactic (remember kids, always practice safe sex) and walking straight out that door never to be seen again.

I don't even know what to do with some of these sartorial delusions. Shit is straight preposterous. I'd honestly rather walk around in a crisp pair of AF1s with plastic bags wrapped around them because there was a 1% chance of rain in the forecast. At least that shit still gets respect in the streets.