One Date Theory

I have a theory that if you get the chance to go on a date with someone you are in to, after that first date it’s smooth sailing. This can work for both men and women, as long as both people are on the same page; otherwise you probably have a lot of game playing ahead of you.

                So you are attracted to someone who you think is kind of special. You find a way to talk to her and eventually get her number and flirt a little bit. You sense some reciprocity so you ask to hang out. You start to hang out and hook up a little more regularly, so you eventually work up the courage to ask her on a date. She accepts – phase one of the theory complete.

                You want to be sure not to over or under dress for the date. Don’t do too much, keep it simple and make sure the conversation flows. Don’t feel under pressure to impress her, but don’t let her get bored. This date is all about happy mediums. She is just as nervous as you are, so don’t overdo it and scare her away. She will appreciate a modest night out (unless you found a gold digger or SUCCUBUS QUEEN). Phase two of the theory complete.

                After this date, the person of interest should stop looking at you as just a hook up. You would have to fuck this date up real bad to not make a bunch of progress after this. I will say that if you do not want this individual to be your only girl, don’t take her on a date. It sends the wrong message and will get you in trouble with more than just her. After this date she will have a different type of respect for you. Reciprocate that respect and you will be successful in seeking the favor of the woman in question. Theory complete.

                Seems simple. However, all people seem to want to do is PLAY GAMES. Getting on the first date is the hardest part of this theory, but once you succeed in that you’re on your way to igniting the flaming relationship you are looking for.

No promises as this theory has not been tested in the field.

Pet Peeve #6 – Seriously/Literally

Females with a below average intellectual ability have a sickening tendency to use these two words incorrectly. My intent is not to be sexist, men do it too but it is extremely rare.

                “Seriouslyyyy!” Ugh, I shudder at the thought of this word being used in place of a sentence. If conversation is so weak that at some point I need to vocalize my observation that it is cold outside, please humor me and say something back with some sort of substance, “I know! Last time it was this cold my pet Wooly Mammoth caught pneumonia!” That would be interesting, something entertaining and memorable to make me realize that my conversation starter was weak. “Seriously!” just won’t cut it.

                Since I chose the enthralling weather example for seriously, I guess I will stick with it for literally. Please never, ever tell me that it’s so cold you’re literally dying – unless you want me to call an ambulance. Do we all know what literally means? Literally means you are speaking in a strict sense, with no exaggeration or inaccuracy. So if you tell me you are literally dying, it means I should do whatever I can to help you. If you literally peed your pants laughing, it means you laughed so hard that you lost control of your bladder and urinated while fully clothed. If something literally tastes like shit, it means you have in fact tasted shit before and whatever you are eating now is comparable to that taste.

“Like, seriouslyyy, it’s like sooo cold out right now, I’m literally like going to pass out. Like seriously.”

                If that is how you talk. Go ahead. Just do me a favor and don’t talk to me. If I hear you say things like this I will literally cringe and tell you to shut the fuck up – in all seriousness.

How Our Minds Differ

Her mind:

Tonight we went out for a romantic dinner. He paid. So we’re good right? But he wasn’t very talkative. I asked him if he was okay. He said everything was fine and smiled. So we’re good right? But I could tell there was so much going on in his mind. Why didn’t he tell me what was wrong? I asked him again in the car. He looked at me like I was crazy. I knew there was something wrong. So I asked again. He laughed and said everything is fine. I said, “Only fine?” He got mad. I knew something was wrong! I asked again. He said he was fine. When we got home he went to the lounge room and turned on the Xbox. I went to bed. He came up 15 minutes later and kissed me goodnight. He was asleep in 5 minutes. I cried myself to sleep.

His mind:

Xbox won’t connect to Xbox Live today. Can’t seem to figure out why. And my girlfriend is acting weirder than usual.

Pet Peeve #5 – Dripping Ice Cream

Picture this: it’s a nice summer’s day; you’re at the beach with your girl, you think its perfect weather for an ice cream and that it will be cute if you buy one for you and your girl to share. Oh contraire! Its 100 degrees out. You have two options; eat fast and get brain freeze and look like a pig, or eat at a regular pace and let sugary ice cream syrup slide down your fingers. In addition, the genius that served you this colossal ice cream gave you one miniature napkin. One. And it is so thin that when you try to clean the sticky ice cream remains of your finger with it, the napkin shreds as if Wolverine was cleaning his blades with it.

                What is the deal with the enormous mess a simple ice cream cone can make? I don’t want sticky fingers at the beach. I hate sand at the best of times, so why would I want it stuck to my fingers? The romance of the day is ruined now that I can’t hold my girls hand since I am at risk of sanding it down to the bone with my abrasive fingers. The beach is the least fun place to have sticky fingers. Unless you’re playing beach football, because you will be able to catch passes like Jerry Rice.

                It is just an ice cream cone. Do we really want that much value for our buck that we expect the tip of the ice cream to touch over passing aircraft? Drips are inevitable with these gigantic servings, and I haven’t even touched on obesity yet. The greediness and inexplicable overeating in our society might just be the cause of this pet peeve of mine. The ice cream specialist serving my ice cream thinks I expect these incomprehensible serving sizes. Sometimes I am unsure how many scoops I am allowed in my ice cream. I’ll be like, “Chocolate thanks.” And they will put in one scoop and look at me like, “What else, idiot?” So I’ll be like, “Oh, and cookies and cream.” Again this seemingly generous cone artist will look at me and this little routine will continue until he can’t reach the top of my ice cream anymore and I have to beg him not to bring out the stepladder.

                When the drips start I see people think they are beating the system by licking them up quickly. Quite the contrary. Every time you lick the cone you soften it a little (quite the opposite of the logic we might be used to). Eventually the cup part of the cone will be so soft it will collapse and you will lose your top scoop of ice cream like a situation straight out of a predictable children’s sitcom.

                 Speaking of children, why do these senseless maniacs insist on biting the bottom of the cone? Runny ice cream will fly out of the like diarrhea. And I promise they will not learn their lesson the first time they make this wearisome blunder.

                I only have one solution to this ridiculous dilemma. Smaller servings or eat out of a bowl. Why do we persist to try and stuff as much ice cream in a cone as extra-terrestrially possible? Let’s use a little self control people.

Halloween Special

Happy Halloween people! And what a Halloween it was! I wish I could post photos of some of the costumes I saw, but I really don’t feel like going around getting everyone’s permission. Feel free to post some of your best costumes in the comment box. Anyway, on to the business end of Halloween. I have no idea how long Halloween has just been an excuse to dress like a tramp, but every year you hoes never cease to amaze me. As much as I know you will all be half naked, some of these costumes stun me. They truly stun me. I could be in the middle of a conversation and will be left both speechless and motionless, hoping that the parents of these young women never see them wearing these scandalous outfits.

                Now, my understanding was that Halloween was supposed to be a night where you dress up in a scary outfit. The only thing that scares me about the whorish costumes that I see on Halloween is that one day that might be my daughter – over my dead body might I add. I recognize the evolution of Halloween from scary to almost anything that is not you; however I cannot seem to fathom the acceptability of dressing like a nightwalker. This is a confusing concept, especially to men on college campuses.

                How can you dress like a slut and not expect to get treated like one? Men filled with testosterone are walking around campus absolutely inebriated looking for a shorty to take back to their room for a little trick or treat. Drunk guys are a little too forward at the best of times, so when you have your ass and titties advertised like a damn billboard, it’s a little surprising to us when you get mad when we give a forward offer/invitation for intercourse. I felt like I was in a strip club for the majority of the weekend, was I supposed to make it rain?

                You dress like an easy target, but you are harder to hit than a stealth aircraft. What is this game you are playing? What’s wrong with dressing like your favorite movie persona? Or the standard scary character? Or something with a little creativity!? I know you don’t all dress like whores, as I said, I saw some great costumes this weekend. I’m just saying, I think the ones that decide to dress like hoes, are hoes and they are pretending not to be hoes. So to all the thirsty guys that strike out early, stay out late and try not to pass out, because these hoes will be desperate by the end of the night. Believe that. I’m glad I’m just a silent observer, otherwise I could have had a very frustrating weekend.

Love is Seasonal

                There is an awful lot of thirst floating around on college campuses. A common misconception is that athletes can snatch up these desperate broads at the drop of a dime. The truth is that certain athletes can do this, but they must get their timing right.

                Timing in this sense is not defined by what time you start talking to these girls. It’s not that simple, but at the same time it is so simple. There is a long wait for the right time, but when the time comes, the window for seduction is open for a long, long time.

                At times it gets to a point where we think girls think they are better than a lot of people, and they do, but your time will come. They think they are better than you when you are out of season, but as soon as you get into season they are all about it. We want our names to be attributed with success in our athletics. Jersey chasers want their names to be attributed with popularity, and what better way to do that than try to bag an athlete who is currently in season?

                I know a whole bunch of college girls are going to dispute this, but you probably don’t even realize that you do it. We ain’t mad at ya, got nothin’ but love for ya, do your thing shorrrrty. But if we know you’re only in it for the season, we’re only going to treat you with about as much respect as a girl from Girls Gone Wild.

                There is the popularity concept, but that is giving these ladies a little less credit than they deserve. They also like athletes because they are in shape, they are particular sport groupies, or they have dollar signs in their eyes. To the girls out there that are telling themselves and everyone around them that they like guys for who they are; sense of humor, easy to talk to, sweet, all that crap. Stop lyin’!

Pet Peeve #4 – Corny Birthday Cards

Why can people not just treat you like a human being on your birthday? The wall-post etc. is one thing. But the corny cards tick me off just as much. I do give credit to the corny birthday card because you have to actually know that it is the person’s birthday, however, not everything has to be funny.

                I’m turning 22 next year and I guarantee I will get a card that says “Happy 50^th 22^nd Birthday.” Why? That’s not even funny. I don’t know if I can even give a sympathy laugh through my nostrils for a joke that dry. Please stop the fuckery.

                Then there are the Hallmark cards that are designed to be corny. That is really someone’s job. Someone is getting paid to be corny. A cornographer. Cornelius. If you are going to dedicate your life to being corny, I may have to dedicate my life to taking your job away. People who buy me $5 corny birthday/Christmas cards are wasting their money. I will open it to check if there is a crispy bill inside and then throw it in the trash. I will only keep your card if it means something. Inspire me. Tell me how you really feel. Even if it just says, “Happy birthday clay, take care of yourself,” I will appreciate that more than, “Good luck getting any birthday sex this year, you’re older and uglier.” Oh. Oh that’s clever. That’s sooooo clever. Good job. Congratulations. Where is the nearest comedy club? I need to watch your act, you are a comic genius.

                My parent’s give the best birthday cards. Usually a heartfelt Hallmark poem followed by some parental words of wisdom and inspiration. If not, it will just be a blank card with a picture on the front. The inside filled with personal literature that makes me feel warm and loved.

                Friends are the experts on corneration. Birthday cards often telling me I’m ugly, old, bad at sex and/or impotent, or stupid. Classic banter. Annoying birthday cards. Again, I appreciate the thought and effort that goes into being a corn-meister, but I would like something a little more sensitive or intellectual in my older years. I’m not 10 anymore.

                If you are giving me a sick present though, go ahead and give me a corny card – I probably won’t even read it because I’ll be frothing so hard over the present. So enough with the dim-witted, trite, and frankly juvenile cards. If you are going to make fun of me, make it sharp and intellectual.