Alright. Wow. Hello and welcome to the 2020 Creep Olympics Hall Of Game induction ceremony. I promise I’m gonna try to make this intro as short as possible due to time restrictions, but let me make one thing crystal clear before we get started: These aren’t the biggest or most vile creeps in the league by any means. These are simply the best/worst performers/gamesmen that were personally submitted to me, via DM or email, to my Creep Olympics blog series. As well as some brand new submissions.
It’s only right that we lead off with an Austin — the slightly less caffeinated and slightly more incestuous Kyles of the Creep Community. If a sentient Bass Pro Shops rewards card listened to Eminem’s entire discography and got an “EST. 1995” tattoo it would almost certainly be named Austin. But that's besides the point. Any man who voluntarily chaperones his sister's nipple appointment, let alone one who uses that fact in an attempt to woo a third party, deserves a COHOG bid. Even if it’s just an elaborate ruse to acquire breasts, lying about that might make it even creepier.
We’ve all been there. Freshman year of college, chillin’ in the dorm... Midnight creeps around and BOOM, you get an uncontrollable hankering to suck the Pinnacle Whipped out of your roommate's dick. But communicating that carnal desire via text message when you're only one schnitt away from him is the behavior of a purebred, hall of fame creep.
This gentleman probably makes/has made my company more money than I do, so I’d be remiss not to honor him in some way on the site.
Ironically, the proclamation “I’m literally no threat to you what so ever!” is significantly more incriminating than just straight up telling someone “I’m a threat to you” or “I’m going to dismember you from the bottom up and hang your body parts from my ceiling fan stirrups like they’re Halloween decorations.” Speaking of which...
Making a DIY Fathead of one of your local crush's VSCO pictures is one thing. Plastering it on your bedroom ceiling is another thing. Having nightly conversations with it is a third thing. And willingly confessing all of those bone-chilling facts to the victim of your crime, herself, is the type of performance that separates the first ballot COHOG creeps from the rest of the pack.
Anywho...you’re on my ceiling.
One of my personal favorites from the 2020 class. Is this person creepy? Not objectively. But anyone who feels disgusted by an early evening departure but comfortable with using "soft boiled egg" as a flirtatious term of endearment in a desperation double text deserves a spot in the Creep Olympics Hall Of Game. Soft. Boiled. Egg.
This lad appears to have already achieved some type of relationship with his target. But requesting to ingest the vaginal and/or anal juices of an Oaklander during the early hours of the afternoon will not go unnoticed by the COHOG committee. I'd even go as far as to say 1:43 AM is still too early for a "can I taste u" text, but I also don't have the balls (both literally and figuratively) to partake in threesomes with my boys.
I’m feeling a lot more comfortable imagining that the dog in the avatar is the one conversing with this girl. Just a little pupperino fur baby, boy merely seven years old in human years, making small talk with a new friend.
I’m imagining an exceptionally horny Italian man named Marco Zappitelli who exhausted every single social media and dating site option before desperately turning to the Yahtzee app in a latch ditch effort to sniff out a mate in the chat section of a mobile mathematics board game. A true, unadulterated creep.
One room over, the older and more violent Zappitelli sibling, Anthony, tries his luck with the Words with Friends app, but to an equal amount of avail.
Attempting to flirtatiously pursue a girl while simultaneously admitting to reeking of the pungent odors of an onion subspecies is next level creep thinking. His subsequent attempts at saving his integrity but pretending like that message was intended for someone else, as if that would make it any less weird, also helped him secure bids.
Once a man is reduced to transcribing his owns growls and moans in order to convey his horniness, there’s nothing that even the divine powers can do to quell his creepsmanship. Does it get any more treacherously desperate than firing off a GRRRR text?
Yes. Yes it does. A solo, unassisted "Speak" after sending a barrage of rejected Ted Nugent lyrics simply cannot be topped.
This reads like an AP Literature student who used Thesaurus.com to paraphrase Tiger Woods sexts for an assignment that's due in 15 minutes. And it most certainly came from the stone cold sober fingers of a cold blooded creep and was not the result of drunken stupor.
Not a single punctuation mark in sight. Not even a colon.
The 5 stages of horniness in action
2. Self loathing
5. Manic desperation/Pleading
And finally, you may remember the MVP of the First Annual Creep Olympics. The man who was relentlessly tormenting our own innocent, little Ellie in 2017-2018...
Well, just in case anyone was wondering, he's still going strong. In fact, he quite literally never stopped. A creep of the highest tier and degree.
"Notice me senpaii"
Much like stripping at a party, getting obliterated by a truck and subsequently surviving, whether it’s an F-150 or full-blown eighteen-wheeler, is inherently trashy yet sexy and erotic. I think these two are actually meant for each other
I’d like to imagine this message came from a literal Sir who has achieved knighthood. I guess that would explain his sophisticated and explicit request for consent before sending an unprovoked description of what he wished to do to her sexually.
We're all familiar with the 50 day rule when it comes to the Solo C.