People magazine, you’re confusing me. By selecting the crazy-haired, spandex-loving, workout-obsessed Matthew McConaughey as “Bachelor of the Year,” you test my understanding of the very definition of the word “bachelor.” Upon hearing that word, the image comes to mind of a dashing, debonair individual, who is sometimes prone to handing out roses to single women in an effort to select his lady love while sporting a tuxedo and a charming smile. The image is decidedly not that of a man who often looks as if he might have a problem with the whole, “No shirt, No Shoes, No Service,” concept as a whole.
You know how that homeless, drug-addicted homeless guy on the corner probably has a six-pack on him? Well, that’s kind of how I feel about Matthew McConaughey. Sure, he’s got a flat stomach, but it’s probably because he’s sporting crackhead abs, along with a really pungent body odor that comes from urinating on himself and living under a bridge. I’m just saying.