How to Meet Broads

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Like Windows into the Crazy Soul

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 16:29:00 +0000

“The eyes indicate the antiquity of the soul.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

I'm not entirely sure what "antiquity" means, and I'm far too lazy to look it up, so we'll just have to cross our fingers and hope that the above quote applies to the following article.

I've never watched The Bachelor. And, as someone who has, in the past, religiously watched such shows as Beverly Hills 90210, Melrose Place, Models Inc., Joe Millionaire and The Real World, I'd have no problem readily admitting it if I were, indeed, a viewer of The Bachelor. But, alas, I am not.

Thus, I did not see the season finale last week, but enough of my Facebook acquaintances made catty comments about the female contestant who came out on top that I had to do a little research of my own. And, thanks to a few minutes of Googling, here's what I learned...

The chick's name is Vienna Marie Girardi, no relation to New York Yankees' manager Joe Girardi. She's 23 years of age and, while born in Geneva, Florida, she now hails from the bustling metropolis of Sanford, Florida. A graduate of the University of Central Florida, Vienna was a member of Kappa Delta and has a bachelor's degree in Interpersonal Organizational Communication. Despite majoring in such an up-and-coming, in-demand field, Vienna is currently unemployed, although she has previously waited tables at Hooters, much like Marie Curie and Michelle Obama.

From the sound of it (based solely upon the one recap I just read at the always-enjoyable redactedblog.blogspot.com), Vienna Girardi was awkward, mildly-rude and generally hated by the other contestants as well as the bachelor's family. Nonetheless, in the climatic scene, the bachelor chose Vienna and proposed marriage.

Sadly, this is going to end badly, because Vienna Girardi is completely insane.

You know how I know this? Her eyes.

In a previous post, we compiled a list of warning signs of female insanity. Unfortunately, due to an unforgivable oversight on our part, we missed an important one. While those warning signs focused on harbingers that one might see only after focused observation of her behavior,insanity also -- for reasons that have never been properly explained by science -- physically manifests itself in the human eye.

Specifically, if you can see just a little bit too much white around a chick's eyeball, she's nuts.

Take a look at the diagram below.

See what I mean? Any woman who has eyes like that is crazy.

While the "crazy eye" phenomenon has undoubtedly existed since the dawn of mankind, when the first cavemen were sitting around a fire and one of them said to his buddy, "I just don't get it... some days she's so nice and sweet, and other days she's just a goddamn lunatic," it first rose to prominence in April of 2005, when Jennifer Wilbanks of Duluth, Georgia, ran away from home in an extreme case of premarital cold feet. Her disappearance sparked a nationwide search and a media frenzy until she was located a few days later in New Mexico, claiming to have been kidnapped and sexually-assaulted by Mexicans. During police interrogation, Wilbanks admitted that she had concocted the story and she was formally charged with giving false information to police. And, as a result, men across America learned to never trust a woman who looks like the chick over there to the right.

And, in addition to already being married and divorced once, plus realistically thinking she could find her next one true love on reality television, Vienna Girardi has a touch of the crazy eyes.

Good luck, Jake the Bachelor. You're gonna need it.

He's Got a Big Ego: Proving Yourself By Giving Her the Ultimate V-Day Treatment

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Beth) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 00:45:00 +0000

“V” Day.
Valentine’s.
Victory.
Victoria’s Secret.
Victory with Victoria’s Secret.
VIP.
Victory with Victoria’s Secret in a VIP cabana at the Viceroy.
Vag . . .

Anyway, depending upon where you stand in your sex(less) life, it’s up to you to define this holiday overflowing with ~~lust~~ ~~love~~ seduction opportunities. There are ways to slam dunk your Victoria’s Secret vixen during the V-day holiday, and there are definitely ways to airball. For instance, last V-Day in 2009, I was taken to Valentine’s Day brunch.

Brunch. That resonates, “He does have a girlfriend.”

On February 13, 2008, I ended up making V-Day dinner reservations at Chaya Brasserie in Beverly Hills via OpenTable.com myself.

Myself. (No elaboration necessary).

But V-Day 2010 has already begun for me, as I just experienced an alleged “part” of my VIP V-Day gift last night: center court floor seats at the Jazz vs. Clippers game during my first visit to Staples Center. Impressed, I am thus far.

However, if you go too far to impress a lady to an extent which exceeds your overall manhood, then that puts you in a far worse situation than the aftermath of having her make Valentine’s Day brunch reservations via OpenTable.com. In other words, don’t drive a Ferrari F-430 if you can’t maneuver it at a speed over 80-mph in the canyons. Don’t give her a puppy with a Swarovski collar, as aforementioned, if you can’t help walk the furry friend on a regular basis. And don’t floss floor seats at your local NBA game if you’re unable to land the same seats the next week – or better yet – if you can’t floss all of the icing that is expected with the A-list view. Let me explain my VIP checklist of icing:

VIP Parking: If you’re pissed just thinking about having to pay $20 plus gratuity for parking, or if you think there’s an exception to this rule, then you’re an exceptional fool. You’d be the subject of the day-after-V-Day phone call to her best friend regarding your idiocy and candidacy for world class cheapskate. FYI, your date’s Valentine’s Day experience begins when she wakes up on Sunday, as she’ll be looking forward to royal treatment before she’s off to church or her morning workout session. So, yes, an early-to-midday text saying “Can’t wait to see you tonight. Have a wonderful day :)” is utterly acceptable. That said, pulling up to the valet at the venue’s main parking structure is part of the VIP V-Day experience – from the moment the assistant valet opens the passenger door for her, to the moment after the game when you tip the driver.

VIP Dinner: Deciding whether to chow down or determining your level of hunger is not an option. Two rounds of food and at least one round of drinks are mandatory. The chicken fingers with three dipping sauces and overloaded nachos with chicken, cheese, sour cream, guacamole, tomatoes, jalapeños – just how I like it – made me flash my million dollar smile while I played background beauty during FSN Prime Ticket’s game coverage. I had the option of a courtside Bud, a Perfect 10 by special request, or even vino rosso; but I chose ginger ale (it was a very rough weekend). I can’t promise you that the leading lady will consume any of this courtside decadence that the server brings to you, but food is essential. Diddy orders courtside grub, and so should you.

Got VIP Game? Despite popular belief, there are courtside do’s and don’ts...
1) Do carry some sports knowledge. Now, this may be the Midwestern girl in me talking, but the biggest turn-off to me is when a guy flaunts A-list tickets at a game and has no clue what’s going on or has no ability to spit player stats. If you’re a typical stat straggler, try the ESPN ScoreCenter iPhone app.
2) Don’t wear your stunner shades at night. Just because Blake Griffin is on the bench rockin’ his white Adidas tearaways for four months doesn’t mean you can lounge in your folding chair sporting your white Louis Vuitton Evidence shades for four quarters. Save them for the pier.
3) Do use profanity when relevant. Even though foul language is never truly attractive in women’s eyes, we’ll let it slide when such sporting event vernacular includes, “Fucking Kaman!”
4) Don’t be a bad sports fan. It is quite the trend to arrive fashionably late to your center court floor seats, but early leaves are absolutely intolerable. Never leave before the 4th quarter ends, even if your home team is not on top. (I learned this rule of culture during my toddler years at the old Busch Stadium).

Got Real VIP Game? So, you’re up close and personal with muscled males who get paid millions to dribble and seduce broads when jet-setting. One of your home team’s forwards does a ~~double~~ triple take on your date. Later, you catch the pro baller attempting to eye-fuck her before the second half begins. Then, when you and the femme look in the Clipper’s direction, he looks away, takes a squeeze bottle of hand cream and shakes it up and down in a jack-off manner (no pun intended). Handle that! A good laugh and a “That was awesome,” will prove your calmness and cool factor, as well as wrap up a humorous NBA memory. Be a player, join the game.

VIP Seat Cred: It’s the sports fanatic version of street credibility. So, how did you score those prime seats again? Fame? Fortune? Or did you use leftover law school loans for this one? Hopefully not the latter. I’d hope that a guy sitting on the floor at center court mans his own successful entrepreneurship, was able to charge the tickets to his Amex without regret, or has some ridiculously amazing story behind him, or all of the above. Now, if you happen to be the featured business success story in this month’s issue of your city’s luxury lifestyle publication, then that will cop you enough seat cred points for the rest of the season.

VIP Dessert: Cold. So the game has ended, you’ve got her waist in one hand and her souvenir in the other, and have thrown tip to valet. Make the pit stop to a chilly dessert so you can warm her up later. Obviously. Indeed, you already paid a grip for parking and courtside concessions, but you must satisfy her sweet tooth with her favorite ice cream – or my personal weakness – Pinkberry. Her toppings of choice better be in your brain’s SIM card. Honestly, at this point, your female companion won’t even be hungry. She’s just waiting to see how far you will go.

Dessert #2: Hot. (Again, no elaboration needed).

Moral of the story: Don’t floss if you ain’t a boss.

He walked like this ‘cause he could back it up.

[Note from Mary Beth: I hope you enjoyed courtside iPhone shots of my VIP V-Day experience. If you’re wondering – yes, this gentleman definitely set the bar for others to follow. But like I said before, each time you give a girl a gift, she will expect something bigger and better each time thereafter. Setting such a high bar for yourself is pretty ballsy. And I like it. For more photos of last night’s game, visit www.MarUsedToLoveHer.com]

How to Throw a Super Bowl Party

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Fri, 29 Jan 2010 07:08:00 +0000

The sky was gray and the wind was howling on Sunday, but it was a beautiful day nonetheless, as we football fans were treated to a pair of immensely entertaining games in the AFC and NFC Championships. While fans of the Jets and Vikings -- plus every idiotic chick who roots for Brett Favre solely because he's so dreamy -- may be disappointed, this past weekend's winners (the Saints and the Colts) are high-scoring and evenly-matched and could potentially put on a Super Bowl for the ages. After waking up at the crack of 2pm, I made my way over to a local bar, where I rendezvoused with a gaggle of friends and, for seven solid hours, drank steadily and made sarcastic and occasionally-inappropriate comments about the players on both sides (a sidenote: I was unable to find any good tickets to this year's State of the Union address on stubhub.com, so I did not attend or watch it on television, but I wouldn't be surprised if President Obama referenced my end-of-the-night tab as evidence that the recession is over). The afternoon lived up to my belief that the Sunday on which the NFC and AFC title games take place is among the best sports days of the year, far better and generally more competitive than the actual Super Bowl, which tends to get drowned in hype and dissected ad nauseam by the painfully-long pregame shows (although, admittedly, we are currently on a streak of two great Super Bowls in a row). But even if the actual game doesn't live up to its billing, Super Bowl Sunday is unique in that it presents the perfect opportunity to either attend or, even better, host a party.

How does this apply to meeting broads, you ask?

Well, despite what some may believe, the easiest way to meet new and interesting women who might be willing to one day sleep with you does not involve A) going out to a local club, drinking $6 Bud Lights and, over the pounding bass of the goofy techno music, trying to carry on a conversation with a girl who keeps getting distracted by the glowing specks of blacklight-illuminated dandruff on your shoulders. Or B) getting drunk in your studio apartment on a Tuesday night and unsuccessfully skimming the Women Seeking Men section on Craigslist, then jumping over to the Misc Romance category, then finally, out of sheer desperation, moving on to the dark and depraved Casual Encounters listings. Or C) gallantly leading the other members of your World of Warcraft party, one of whom you're pretty sure might even be a girl in real life, into the depths of Gnomeregan and heroically delivering the decisive fatal blow to Mekgineer Thermaplugg yourself.

Without a doubt, the best way to meet women is by building and maintaining a healthy social circle. With a large group of male and female friends and acquaintances, you will rarely find yourself with nothing to do on a weekend, you will never have to go to a bar alone and, if you play your cards right, you will have a constantly-evolving collection of friends-of-friends, a category which will inevitably include a handful of attractive women whom you might be able to sleep with and/or date.

To make a convoluted football analogy, developing a social circle that allows you to meet women is a lot like being the quarterback of a championship-caliber team. First of all, you're going to need to be behind a strong offensive line. This is your core group of friends, the ones whom you can count on to protect your blind side when you're dropping back to pass. Sure, they're probably not much to look at. Sure, they might each be in the neighborhood of 300 pounds. Sure, some of them may be sweaty or oddly hairy or faintly smell like salami at all times. But when push comes to shove, you're nothing without them.

Then you've got your tight end. This is your mildly obese female friend whom you've never considered sleeping with, which they adore you for because, through all of their devastating break-ups with other guys, you've always been there to half-heartedly console them, so if any other female were to inquire about you, they'd emphatically reply, "He's such a great guy." And your fullback, the nerdy guy you enjoy hanging out with despite his obvious flaws. He may have hands of stone, and his 40 time might be up around 4.8, but he too will speak glowingly about you were someone to ask, if only because you take the time to include him in your circle. While they might not get much credit, both of these are vital to any successful team.

Your real weapons, though, are at running back and wide receiver. These are your hot female friends, who make you look better just by being in your vicinity, and your male wingmen extraordinaire, those who fully understand the Male Code and will do everything in their power to help you in your carnal pursuits. The players at these positions may not be perfect -- perhaps the receiver has an over-inflated ego, or maybe the running back isn't a great pass-blocker -- but those imperfections are miniscule in the grand scheme of things, as these individuals are blindingly fast, graceful and devastatingly effective at putting points on the board.

And then there's your team's defense. This is your supporting cast. The people whom you see around frequently, but you probably aren't particularly familiar with. As the quarterback, the inner workings of the defense are mostly a mystery to you. They watch film separately from the offense, they practice separately from the offense... hell, they even sit at the other end of the locker room. Thus, you couldn't adequately describe their blitz packages or coverage schemes, but that's not your fault. It's just how the system works. By no means is your defense unimportant, however. They work diligently to hold the opposing offense's scoring to a minimum and give you a chance to win.

Combined, the players around you make you, the quarterback, look good. They put you in position to be the star. They catch your game-winning passes. They help you get on the cover of Sports Illustrated and rake in endorsement deals. And, when they're at the Pro Bowl, sitting at the hotel pool and sipping Courvoisier with a superstar receiver from another team (in this analogy, they're the hot friend-of-a-friend), they're pointing over at you and saying things like, "Hey, when you're a free agent after next season, you should really sign with us so you can catch passes from that guy. He's the best."

Next thing you know, that star receiver is agreeing to a contract with your team based on your teammate's glowing recommendation. Now you've got another talented weapon in your arsenal, your team continues to compete for championships and maybe, just maybe, you might be able to toss that new receiver a few deep balls or hit them in the slot. If you catch my drift.

Let's review: Do everything you can to build up a large social circle. Be friendly to everyone. Even if the people you meet directly are your type, perhaps one of their friends is your type. Or a friend of that friend. Never stop meeting people. Let your circle of friends continue to expand in concentric circles, like a spider web. Or a diagram of concentric circles.

And do you know what's a great scenario for A) hanging out with your existing friends, and B) meeting new ones?

That's right... a Super Bowl party.

Or, even better, a Super Bowl party at your house, one where you are the star host. And because I love to help, here are a few guidelines for putting together a successful Super Bowl party:

1) Begin inviting people at least a week before the game so that they have time to prepare accordingly. Start with the people you are closest to. Once they confirm their availability, you'll be able to say to others, "We're having a Super Bowl party at my place next weekend. Persons A, B, C and D are all gonna be there. You should come by." That way, you don't sound desperate for folks to show up. It's best to invite people in person, but there's nothing wrong with sending out invites via email or the Facebook as well.

2) Have beer readily available. Most decent people will bring a twelve-pack of whatever they like. Some will not. So have a reserve supply of something cheap, just in case. Bud Light or PBR, for instance. No need to get fancy. For a rough estimate of how much you might need, multiply the number of guests you're expecting by five beers apiece. So, if you think you might have ten people coming to your party, put fifty or so beers on a shelf in the fridge or in a cooler. Like a handgun, it's better to have it and not need it, than to need it and not have it.

3) The more food, the better. But don't go overboard with this one either. None of your guests have any right to expect fine dining. So if you're thinking you might have ten or fewer people at your party, just buy a few bags of pretzels and maybe some chips and salsa. If you're expecting more than ten, you may need to step it up a bit. Either plan on grabbing a few pizzas or firing up a grill before kickoff and cooking hot dogs and hamburgers during the first quarter. And the thing is, when a grill is easily-accessible, there's a good chance that someone will bring over some chicken or ribs and toss them on as well, which is an obvious benefit to all. And if any of your guests want to be picky (i.e. vegetarian), they can bring their own goddamn cous cous or whatever.

4) You have a television, right? You're definitely gonna want one of those. While, ideally, that television is a 65" 1080p plasma, that's not a necessity. As long as it's not the 13" combination TV-VCR that you've had since 1996, you'll be fine. And perhaps this goes without saying, but if you have multiple televisions, put the game on each one and position them strategically throughout your house so that, hypothetically, a guest could get up from your living room sofa, walk to the kitchen (if you can put a television in the kitchen, do so... the kitchen is the most social room of any house and your guests will inevitably congregate there), stand there for a few minutes eating a handful of cashews, step outside to smoke a cigarette and then return to the living room, all without missing a split second of Peyton Manning sitting on the bench, looking perturbed.

5) Speaking of benches, do everything in your power to make sure you have enough seating. Some people like to stand at parties. Most do not. Prepare to utilize every sofa, chair, ottoman, bar stool and milk crate that you have at your disposal. If the weather permits, put a few outside (along with a TV if possible) for the smokers. What's that? You don't smoke? And you don't particularly like the smell of smoke? And you don't really care about the needs of people who smoke? Guess what... you know who does smoke and would like someplace to sit when they do so? Chicks with oral fixations. So quit your whining and deal with the odor, Tinkerbell.

And that about does it. Enjoy your Super Bowl Sunday, dear readers. Make some new friends. You never know where it could lead. Above all else, have a fun-filled day of football and excessive drinking. I know I will. Especially if the Colts win by more than 5.5 but the total number of points stays under 56.5. Oh, and it wouldn't hurt if the opening coin toss was tails.

Cheers...

And Thus Begins Our Feud with Patton Oswalt

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 20:25:00 +0000

The other night, I spent the evening at the home of a lovely young lady with shoulder-length blonde hair and an adorable smile. After a delicious dinner, we settled in for some prime-time television, then eventually headed to bed. After she dozed off, most likely from sheer sexual exhaustion, I slid over to her computer to find something to watch on Netflix.com.

I scanned my instant queue for a moment before finally settling on Big Fan, a film that was released last year starring comedian Patton Oswalt as a die-hard New York Giants fan, the type that paints his face and religiously calls in to sports talk shows.

I like Patton Oswalt. I think he's funny and intelligent and brings a likable "nerdish everyman"-type quality to his performances. And, back in September or so, when Oswalt appeared on the podcasts of both Bill Simmons and Adam Carolla to promote the film, each discussed in length how good Big Fan was and what great reviews it was receiving. Needless to say, I've been looking forward to seeing it for a while. And, just this past week, it was added to Netflix's instant play section. Which is how I found myself watching it last night.

All in all, the movie was enjoyable. Right up until the end. Patton Oswalt's character and a friend are looking at the Giants' schedule for the following season. They both enthusiastically agree that it looks like a piece of cake. "Thirteen and three," the friend says.

"What are your three losses?" Oswalt asks.

"Green Bay, New England and the Chargers," the friend says.

I stopped to rewind it and make sure I heard him correctly. Yep, he definitely said New England and the Chargers. Do you see any inaccuracy there? Like how, say, an NFC East team wouldn't ever play both the Patriots and the Chargers in the same regular season? How the Giants would either play the entire AFC East or the entire AFC West, but not some teams from each?

This baffled me. How could a movie that was obviously written by a sports fan and made for sports fans take such care to make sure all of the details are true-to-life, to the point that all of the players discussed in the film -- with one exception -- are real players, and then blow it at the last second like that? Even if the screenwriter didn't know the particulars of the NFL schedule, wasn't there one straight male involved in the production of the film who could have pointed out the flaw?

Apparently not, because upon further inspection (me rewatching the scene the following morning and pausing it on the frame where the friend holds up the clearly-visible schedule), the newspaper clipping they're looking at only lists fourteen regular season games. How hard would it have been to make a fake schedule that was, you know, similar in appearance to every NFL schedule published in every goddamn newspaper in the country?

So, essentially, Big Fan was good for eighty-three minutes. Then, like Joe Pisarcik, it fumbled the game away when it mattered most and Herman Edwards ran the ball in for a touchdown.

Well, that's the way it goes sometimes, right? Wrong. I needed to know how such a glaring oversight could occur in an otherwise good movie. Which is why I became a fan of Patton Oswalt on the Facebook this morning, and sent him the following message:

"Hey Patton... watched Big Fan last night. Liked it up until the 1 hour, 24 minute mark. Was there not one red-blooded, football-watching American male who saw that movie during the writing, shooting or editing phase and said, "You know, the Giants wouldn't play both the Chargers and the Patriots the following season. They'd only play teams from one division from the AFC..."? Also, at the risk of sounding nitpicky, the schedule that is shown on-screen only includes 14 regular season games. Perhaps these are minute details to some, but they kinda throw off the whole movie."

Patton Oswalt himself responded about an hour later. He said, "Huh, that's a very astutezzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZ."

I was a little taken aback. How could this little twerp, who prides himself on his encyclopedic knowledge of comic books, resort to inferring that I was some boring loser for wondering why his movie contained an idiotic error? In addition, I also found there to be a hint of irony in the fact that, in the movie, Oswalt follows his favorite athlete into a club solely out of admiration, and gets senselessly beaten by that athlete and his posse, who clearly want nothing to do with Oswalt's common fan. But had real-life Patton Oswalt become the bully, the one who is too sensitive and indifferent to address the factual inaccuracies of his films?

It didn't end there. A few members of his legion of dweebs went on the attack...

Cody Evjen: "ROFL"

Paul Vermeersch: "And you know, in ET, bicycles can't really fly. The aerodynamics are all wrong. Ruined the whole movie for me."

Rob Nickerson: "I'm sure they'll fix it with CGI for the upcoming Laserdisc re-release."

Then someone named Myra chimed in. I'd copy and paste her comment verbatim, but she has since blocked me for reasons that may become apparent shortly. Either way, she said something along the lines of: "Repeat after me: It's not a documentary. Then get the stick out of your ass."

I was gonna let it slide, figuring that perhaps I'm the only person on the planet who falls into both the "Fan of Patton Oswalt" camp and "Knows Shit about Football" camp...

...But Myra's comment simply rubbed me the wrong way.

My response: "Thank you, Myra. I am aware that Big Fan is not a documentary. But, let's say there was a movie about something that you were knowledgeable about: being an obnoxious cunt, for instance. And let's say that movie meticulously recreated the little details about being a cunt: the real-life names of actors in shows a cunt might watch, places that a cunt might hang out, the types of radio shows a cunt might listen to. And as you're watching it, you're thinking, 'Wow, these people have really put in a lot of effort to make sure this movie captures what it's like to be a cunt.' And then, right at the end, they include some bizarre inaccuracy that makes you wonder how they could have been so conscious of the minutiae in the rest of the movie but overlook something so simple. Wouldn't that make you curious how such an oversight could occur, Myra?"

Too harsh?

Because she responded with something just as self-righteous and pompous as her first comment, then evidently blocked me.

The lesson? As always, women really, really don't like the word "cunt."

And Patton Oswalt is a douche.

Happy Holidays & Girlwithnoname

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Mon, 04 Jan 2010 14:47:00 +0000

Hello, everybody! We here at How to Meet Broads would like to wish you a belated happy holidays and a happy New Year and all of that stuff. We hope that the holidays treated you well, your respective families weren't too annoying and your travels went smoothly. At the very least, we hope that, unlike us, you didn't get stranded in a blizzard in Northern Virginia, one that left you sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic on I-95 for fourteen freakin' hours.

Anyhoo, here's a little story for you: One evening a few weeks back, I was sitting on a plush leather sofa here at How to Meet Broads Manor, watching college basketball in my bathrobe, plowing through a box of red wine and making sarcastic comments, most of them sports- and food-related, on the Twitter. That was how I became acquainted with Girlwithnoname, as she took a few moments to dispute the merits of Meatball 'N Mozzarella-flavored Hot Pockets with yours truly.

As it turns out, the lovely Girlwithnoname is a personal trainer, and she kindly agreed to an interview, which went something like this...

Where are you from?
Vancouver, Canada.

What does your daily fitness routine entail?
Depends on the day. I alternate various weights routines with various cardio every second day. So one day I might do some supersets with my weightstack (I'm not afraid to go heavy like so many women are, the heavier you get, the more "toned" you're gonna look) and then the next day I might go for a long endurance run or run to my favourite hill and crank out some HIIT (high-intensity interval training) in the form of hillsprints. I do something every day, usually with one day off per week.

Of the following randomly-selected celebrities -- Tom Cruise, Mick Jagger, Dr. Phil, Derek Jeter and David Letterman -- who do you think you could beat in an arm wrestling competition?
Dr. Phil. He doesn't look to me like he's in shape at all. While Mick Jagger might be a more obvious answer I bet that cat is tough (and wiry)... that being said though, I don't think I'd REALLY want to wrestle with any of them.... that's a bit too close for comfort... for those dudes anyway.

Physically-speaking, what do you find attractive in a male? Arms? Chest? Abs?
O. M. G. Chest, Arms, Shoulders and Back. Give me a well built man with a great set of shoulders and I'm yours (that being said, I'm not into steroid monkeys, just nicely and naturally built guys that work hard on themselves, as I work hard on myself).

Some of our readers are the healthy-living type. Undoubtedly, many of them probably have crushes on girls at their gym, but are unsure of how to approach them in that sort of environment. Any advice?
ooooo, that's a bone of contention for ME, because I HATE it when some guy approaches me when I'm in the zone and trying to get a good workout in. I'm counting my reps, I'm concentrating on getting the weight up, etc. I'd have to say if there's someone you absolutely gotta meet, approach them during their stretching or get on the treadmill beside them... times when you aren't interrupting their workout. Or better yet, time your departure at the same time as theirs and suggest a post-workout smoothie as you both walk out the door at the same time.

In your opinion, where do most men fail when attempting to meet and/or impress women?
That's an easy one. Cheesy, overconfident or creepy pick up lines will get me traveling in the opposite direction almost every time. Try being real or just saying 'hi' ... its simple really. We want to talk to real guys, not 'players'...

One last question... Better pizza topping: bacon or Italian sausage?
I don't eat pizza very often. You can't hang on to a set of abs when you indulge in that stuff very often, but when I do have a little cheat meal and pizza is on the menu, neither of those is at the top of my toppings list. Pepperoni, howeverrrrrrrr......

Girlwithnoname is a Registered Personal Trainer, lives in the city of Vancouver, BC Canada in the downtown area and is a self-professed fitness junkie. Learn more about her here: Girlwithnoname - Achieving Fitness At Home. And check out her thoughts on abs at Truth about Six Pack Abs.

How To Win (And Lose) Her With Gifts

noreply@blogger.com (Mary Beth) — Mon, 07 Dec 2009 18:12:00 +0000

[Note: Unless specified, the following advice pertains to those who are unmarried. Marriage brings a whole new level to gift-giving.]

Guys, I’m sure you’ve all had your fair share of enthusiastically (and, now, regretfully) giving gifts to a female, whether she was your girlfriend, “friend,” or the we’re-not-official-but-I-bring-her-around-when-my-frat-bros-are-in-town chick. The item you choose to give to that special someone isn’t always based on price, glamour, and luxury. As cliché as it sounds, it’s about thought. And timing.

Flowers, chocolates, rings, clothes, and puppies – these are five things that guys have the tendency to give, or think about giving, to women. They can make or break relationships, or even make or break relationships that don’t even exist (Does that even make sense? The last guy I dated thinks so). Therefore, plan very carefully when and how you decide to spend a little dough on your lady.

Flowers: They’re cute. That’s it. Just cute. Unless you flew to Peru, climbed a couple of mountains, and hand-picked exotic orchids yourself. In any other case, flowers should be given to a woman in two fashions:

1) As an unexpected surprise with no occasion attached. When a woman receives flowers, it’s a sign that you thought about her without any obligation. I once came home to an Edible Arrangement (Google it). It was not my birthday, nor was it an anniversary. In fact, the sender wasn’t even my boyfriend. Finding a bouquet of chocolate-covered strawberries, bananas, and pineapples at my doorstep – damn – that was pretty good game. Food goes straight to the my heart.

2) An accompaniment to a special occasion gift. If it’s your five year anniversary of being married, the flowers better come with two tickets to Boracay, or added as an ornament on top of a black-on-black M3. If it’s her birthday (no marriage involved), the flowers must come with a night on the town, dinner at her (or Kim Kardashian’s) favorite restaurant, and end with some hot, I mean hot, dessert at your place.

Flowers are also good pairings with graduation gifts. But whatever you do, don’t give your girl flowers in lieu of an appropriate apology. I mean, if I go out of my way to do my guy’s laundry and find a cheap green cotton Medium thong in the midst of his douchebag Ed Hardy t-shirts, don’t think it’s okay to go to the nearest freeway intersection and pick up a dozen roses to place on the kitchen counter. (What a moron to think I wear cheap lingerie).

Chocolates: Chocolates (as well as boxes of cookies, gourmet candies, etc.) are best when delivered to the workplace. Why? Think about it: Your lady is at her desk multi-tasking, finishing e-mails to her clients and shopping the shoe sale on Nordstrom.com. The receptionist intercoms her to pick up a package. When your girl returns, she doesn’t return to her desk. In fact, she runs to her female co-workers with a smile on her face, a box of chocolates which she shares with the excited office BFF’s, and every other female in the room jumps for joy, secretly envying your lady and wishing she had a guy like you about whom she can brag.

Rings: Though many females may disagree, I believe that a man should never give a woman a ring, unless it is for engagement purposes, wedding days, or celebrations within a marriage. Otherwise, she’ll get the wrong idea, and you’re only setting yourself up for failure. Quick rule of thumb: Each time you give a girl a gift, she will expect something bigger and better each time thereafter. If you give her a ring now, what will she expect later? A proposal? [shivers]

Clothes: Cashmere. Or small luxury pieces to go with the big luxury pieces that are already in her closet. Buy something that she desires, but would most likely not be a priority on her shopping list due to budget restrictions. For example, a solid color cashmere scarf with matching gloves (or the Burberry set at Neiman-Marcus) to go with all of her pea coats and purses would be adorable. But after shopping for others, thinking about taxes due in 2010, and daily LA valet expenditures, I definitely don’t have these items on my shopping to-do list.

Puppies: Solution: found. Okay, honestly, if you want a girl to fall in love with you, get her a puppy. Give her a puppy that will grow small enough to always fit in her Louis Vuitton Speedy 35. It worked on me.

Check it: As you know, a puppy is like a child. Basically, you and your lady will serve as parents and raise this expensive, high-maintenance four-legged fur ball, so don’t think you can give it to her and expect to never deal with it again. You must walk the little one when you’re around, offer to take it to the vet, and bring over some gourmet puppy snacks when you pick your lady up for a date. We all realize that a puppy is a huge responsibility, and you can’t just leave it at home at anytime at your convenience. Now, she may fall in love with you when you give her the pooch with a Swarovski collar around its neck, but you will quickly fall in her “Asshole” list on her iPhone when she realizes you have purchased it with ulterior motives. Don’t think that you can just buy your lady a dog to make her stay at home on Friday and Saturday nights to take care of it 24/7, while you’re out and about gallavanting with broads that lack the brains and beauty your girl possesses. (Fuck you, Wil! [also known as “Asshole 666”])

Generally speaking, a perfect gift will make your lady smile, make her girlfriends love you, and bring your relationship to a better place (at least temporarily).

Mary Beth Sales is the Founder and President of Marmar Public Relations, a Los Angeles-based company that focuses on fashion and entertainment, putting people and their talents in “The Scene.” When she isn’t dealing with celebrities, fashionistas, and LA valet runners, Mary Beth can be found at sports bars, where she watches Big 12 football and calls guys out if they approach her with bad game. Read more about her misadventures at MarUsedToLoveHer.com

Have You Slept With Tiger Woods?

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Fri, 04 Dec 2009 04:11:00 +0000

This afternoon, Vivid Entertainment, the company that has produced many of America's finest pornographic films, announced that they will pay any of Tiger Woods' alleged mistresses one million dollars to star in a film which captures the essence of their relationship, only with presumably more girl-on-girl action.

Thus far, none of the women who have come forth (Rachel Uchitel, Jaimee Grubbs and Kalika Moquin) claiming to have been intimate with Mr. Woods since he's been married to the lovely and delightful Elin Nordegren have agreed to terms with Vivid.

Most likely, that's because, despite the fact that they've all proudly proclaimed that they are giant whores who are more than willing to sleep with a married man and then sell their stories to The National Enquirer, they have their principles. And starring in a porn movie evidently does not fit amongst their strict moral values.

That's why we here at How to Meet Broads Inc. are prepared to make the following offer:

For any woman who can provide valid proof (photos, voicemails, etc.) that she had a sexual encounter with Tiger Woods... We will pay you twenty dollars, in cash, for the opportunity to interview you via email about the sordid details of your affair with Mr. Woods and post the resulting interview here on our site.

That's right... twenty dollars for one brief interview, during which you will not be asked to perform any sexual acts, unlike Vivid Entertainment's salacious offer. Unless, of course, you just really want to perform sexual acts, in which case I'll gladly introduce you to one of my many friends who are less concerned than I about STDs. In addition, we will publish your picture and provide a link to your personal website or the website for the strip club at which you work.

If you have slept with Tiger Woods and are interested in our offer, please contact us here.

UPDATE: A fourth woman has come forward claiming to have slept with Tiger Woods. Her name is Jamie Jungers, and she's a nice-looking blonde from Las Vegas. If any of our readers know Miss Jungers, please inform her that she could be twenty dollars richer if she contacts us. Thank you.

Five Movies That Will Get You Laid

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Tue, 24 Nov 2009 16:06:00 +0000

"I met a girl at a bar last weekend. Turns out she's from a few towns over from where I grew up in Ohio. She was cute and fun and, after talkign for an hour or two, we exchanged numbers. A few days later I invited her too come hang out with some friends and I at another bar. She stoped by for a bit and it went well, but it was a weeknight and she left kind of early because she had to work in the morning. So what should I do now? Should I take her out too dinner, or just stick too happy hour drinks? Thakns for your advice, and GO BUCKEYES!!!"
-Mark C.

The preceding question was sent to us by a reader the other day, and I think it addresses a common issue among men in the early stages of any relationship: Getting over the hurdle of physical contact.

For most men, meeting women is difficult. No matter where you are, be it a bar or a restaurant or a supermarket, you need to overcome the potentially-crippling approach anxiety just to strike up a conversation with a female. And why is the approach so anxiety-inducing? Because of fear. Fear that she might reject you. Fear that she might brutally shoot you down. But, simply put, unless you want to spend the remainder of your miserable life alone, cooped up in your smelly apartment watching your X-Files DVDs and feverishly masturbating to Gillian Anderson, you need to accept that fear and embrace it. Why? Because of the chance, however slim, that she won't reject you. That she might actually like you and enjoy talking to you. That maybe, just maybe, she'll give you her phone number and utter those two simple, yet earth-shattering, words: "Call me."

If that should happen, congratulations. You've successfully navigated through the first treacherous step of any casual hookup or long-term relationship. Unfortunately, it's not the last treacherous step you'll face.

The early stages of every relationship are littered with potential landmines. When you first meet her, what should you talk about? How should you ask for her number? How many days should you wait to contact her? Should you invite her to dinner and a movie? Should you invite her out for drinks? If your first date goes well, should you try to kiss her? Should you invite her back to your place? Should you try to sleep with her?

At any point, she could reject your advances and send you right back to square one.

Luckily, it sounds like Mark has been faithfully reading and absorbing the advice in our How to Meet Broads newsletters, because it seems like he's on the right track thus far. He met a girl and invited her out to join him at a casual gathering of friends. She said yes, because there's no tangible pressure in such a scenario. And, as Mark describes, the date went well (take no offense that she went home early on a work night... instead, take solace in the fact that she appears to be responsible enough to not show up to work reeking of chardonnay).

Here's what you do: She's seen your social side. And, evidently, she was satisfied enough to continue speaking to you. So let her see your private side. Let her see your world. Let her see your home and it's decor. Let her see how you exist when your guard is down. Invite her over.

First, send her a text message which says something along the lines of, "I've got a meeting early Friday morning, so I can't really go out anywhere, but if you don't have plans, you should come by my place on Thursday night for some pizza and a movie." See what you did there? You made it seem like you're too busy to try to sleep with her on account of your fictional meeting (which is why, when you do talk her into staying over, she'll be flattered that you're willing to sacrifice your precious sleep for her enthralling company), so you're not a threat, and she won't be on the defensive. And don't feel obligated to go with pizza. If you mentioned some local restaurant's delicious nachos in a previous conversation, substitute them instead. Or, if you're confident in your cooking abilities, make some pasta or baked chicken (but nothing too elaborate... don't show off and make it obvious that you're trying to seduce her). Also, if her schedule permits, definitely shoot for a Thursday night. Psychologically, it's close enough to the weekend for most people to let loose just a tad.

Before she arrives, clean your apartment and make sure it smells nice. But don't have any candles burning when she arrives, or else your ulterior motives will be plainly apparent. Christ, if you're gonna do that, you might as well put some Barry White on the stereo and answer the door naked.

Leave an interesting hardcover book on your coffee table or a nearby end table so that it looks like you read. Some good choices include anything by Marquis de Sade, Arthur Rimbaud's A Season in Hell, Baudelaire's The Flowers of Evil, any hefty biographies of presidents before 1900 (but if the girl is from below the Mason-Dixon line, you may want to avoid anything about Abraham Lincoln, because she may hate him) or any of Hunter S. Thompson's books of letters. Avoid any books about sports (Mark Bowden's Bringing the Heat may be an excellent account of the Philadelphia Eagles' 1992 season, but women just don't seem to realize or care how much of an impact Jerome Brown's death had on that squad) or comic books (leave your tattered copy of Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics under your bed, nerd). Before your girl arrives, glance at your selected author's Wikipedia page and memorize key points of their life story so that you can adequately fake an intelligent discussion if necessary.

When she arrives, offer her wine or beer or whatever she likes to drink. Resist the urge to put roofies in it.

Give her a brief tour of your home or apartment, then serve food. Eat in front of the television. Sitting in silence at the dining table is just too risky and potentially-awkward at this stage of the game. Put on a movie.

Only one problem: Which movie should you put on? If she's like most girls, she doesn't want to watch Rocky 4 or Predator (even though she might really like them if she gave 'em a goddamn chance). Instead, here are a few options that, when combined with the alcohol, could really bring out the best in her...

Dawn of the Dead (2004): Every "horror" movie these days (Saw, Hostel, etc.) seems to be a vile cornucopia of severed limbs, charred flesh and dangling eyeballs. Go ahead, put on one of those and see how your date goes. I dare you. While Dawn of the Dead does feature some blood and guts (they are zombies, after all), at no point does it feel overly gratuitous. Also, it features an integral ingredient that those other shitty "horror" movies seem to have forgotten: genuine tension. That, unlike ninety minutes of people being tortured, is what will get her adrenaline pumping.

The Big Lebowski: I'll be honest: I hate The Big Lebowski. I hate all of the Coen Brothers movies. They're long, boring and nowhere near as funny as everyone else seems to think they are. That said, everyone other than I seems to love this movie. So do yourself a favor and buy yourself a copy on DVD. Out of the corner of your eye, pay attention to your date. Pretend to laugh when she does (because, really, there's nothing funnier than the eighth time Jeff Bridges says something like, "that rug really tied the room together, man"). She'll love that you have such refined comedic tastes.

Stranger Than Fiction: This movie is unique in a cultural sense, as it represents the only known footage of Will Ferrell in which he doesn't play a washed-up sports icon and hilariously run around with his shirt off. Instead, this is a sweet, touching, well-written film about seizing the day. Quirky in parts but uplifting throughout, Stranger than Fiction will help your date realize that life is short and that we must chase that which we desire or risk missing out on it forever.

Don Juan DeMarco: While Marlon Brando waddles through this movie with an "Any chance I can get paid in cash?" ennui, Johnny Depp gives an excellent performance as either a mentally ill sociopath or, indeed, the legendary lover known as Don Juan DeMarco. Either way, this film delves into the true meanings of love and, along the way, expresses a profound admiration for the beauty of all women.

Casablanca: Originally released in 1942, Casablanca may be the only movie from that era that withstands the test of time. Humphrey Bogart plays the cynical owner of a popular Moroccan nightclub primarily populated by World War 2 refugees. But when Ingrid Bergman walks into his club one evening, Bogart is forced to revisit the past and face a moral dilemma. This film remains one of the great love stories ever written and, if your date hasn't seen it, Casablanca will undoubtedly make her feel nice and warm inside.

Good luck and, as always, happy hunting!

Got relationship questions you need answered? Submit them here!

Answering Cocktail's Mailbag Questions

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 07:58:00 +0000

Full disclosure: Despite my frequent letters and phone calls, VH1 has apparently declined to pay me a modest sum each time I write something like, "Brooke Knows Best 2 is redefining comedy as we know it" or "It's official! Terrell Owens is the most likable character on TV!" So you can rest assured that I genuinely mean it when I say that I absolutely, positively cannot wait for the November 2nd premiere of season two of For the Love of Ray J.

I'm pretty sure that no one other than I watched season one, but it was spectacularly entertaining. Evidently, when you take one supposed R&B "star" whose biggest hit was a sex tape with Kim Kardashian, and you put him in a house to let him choose between twelve loopy, money-grubbing skanks, hilarity ensues.

Don't believe me? Allow me to sum up the entire series with a brief recap of one memorable scene (because, obviously, there's nothing more fun than listening to someone else tell you what happened on their favorite TV shows): After a stressful day, Ray J takes the remaining five girls (I think there were five... I could be wrong, though) out to a nice dinner at a classy French restaurant. After saying a few kind words to each, he gets the attention of the waiter and yells, "Monsieur! Six pineapple kamikazes, please!"

Maybe you had to be there. Either way, that scene immediately took its place on my Mount Rushmore of greatest scenes in recent television history. So, even though VH1 isn't paying me to say this, watch season two of For the Love of Ray J on November 2nd. Trust me, it'll be awesome.

For the record, the other three scenes on my Mount Rushmore go something like this:

2) Friday Night Lights (Season one, episode two): Coach Eric Taylor takes Matt Saracen out to the stadium the night before the QB's first start to prep him for the game.

3) Mad Men (Season one, episode thirteen): Don Draper pitches the Carousel campaign to Kodak.

4) The Sopranos (Season three, episode thirteen): At the reception following Jackie Aprile's funeral, Uncle Junior sings "Core 'Ngrato" as the entire family watches on.

The winner of season one of For the Love of Ray J was a girl by the name of Cocktail (pictured above), who embodied many of the traits one looks for in great reality TV stars. Cold, cunning, manipulative and comfortable appearing virtually naked in front of a camera, Cocktail captured Ray J's heart for nearly two months after filming before they announced that they had gone their separate ways.

Like any dedicated fan, though, I still occasionally check in on the Twitter updates of Cocktail (aka Joanna Hernandez). And, just a few short hours ago, I was thrilled to see Miss Cocktail mention that she has a new website, on which she has photos, her favorite music videos and a blog on which -- thank you, comedy gods -- she occasionally dispenses relationship advice.

Problem is, as much as I thought Cocktail was a fantastic reality TV character, I'm not so sure that she should be giving advice to anyone. Christ, she went on TV to try to hook up with a celebrity and then claimed to have fallen in love with him. Let's just say that she might not be the most well-adjusted individual on the planet, and she should probably leave the advice to people who actually know something about relationships.

Like me.

So, allow me to present some actual questions from Cocktail's actual blog. And watch in awe as I provide better advice than she could ever dream of giving. Here goes...

Tiffany asks: I am married and my husband is a sweet guy but I am still in love with my ex.

First of all, Tiffany, that's not a question. A question is one of those sentences that begin with a word like "why," "when," "who," "how" or "what" and ends with one of those question mark thingies, honey. For instance, "Why does it burn when I pee?" That there is a question. The answer to which is, of course, chlyamydia... stupid, pesky chlyamydia...

That said, the answer to your pseudo-question is simple: Leave him. Because you're a flaky idiot and you're gonna end up screwing him over eventually. So all you need to do is say to him, "I'm sorry, but I'm in love with someone else and I want to get a divorce." And that's that. Spare him the trouble of dealing with you and let him find someone else who isn't quite as self-absorbed as you.

Here, though, is what I predict you're gonna do: Not tell your husband anything. Let him continue to buy you meals and pay the bills. Secretly become friends with your ex on Facebook (if you haven't already). Chat with him now and then. Playfully flirt. Eventually agree to meet your ex for coffee after playing coy and saying things like, "Gee, I don't know if that's such a good idea." Laugh coquetteishly at your ex's jokes and let your hand innocently brush against his arm a few times. Kiss him on the cheek as you part ways beside your Toyota Camry. Feel mildly guilty for three days, but gradually get over it. On the fourth day, without telling your husband, stop by the ex's house so that you can borrow a DVD he says you'd really like (That DVD? Office Space, which you tell him you've never seen even though you actually own it as well...). At his suggestion, sit on his sofa and have a glass of wine. Then another. Talk just long enough so that you can later tell your disapproving female friends, "You know, it just sort of happened" without feeling like a slut. After a bit of making out, have sex in his bedroom, the walls of which are covered in Nascar flags and pro wrestling posters. Go home to your husband (forgetting the Office Space DVD in the process). Continue to rendezvous with your ex two or three times a week for months as you quietly relish the attention you're getting from two men simultaneously. Allow your husband to gradually get suspicious, until he eventually follows you one afternoon as you drive over to your ex's house to bang him. At this point, many people wouldn't fault your husband if he were to shoot both you and your ex, but he won't... because he's "sweet." Instead, he'll simply kick you out and subsequently divorce you. And, after a brief mourning period, he'll realize that you weren't particularly good after all. You know why? Because the stink of your infidelity will be all over him, and it'll act as a pheromone with almost every woman he encounters. And, eventually, after enough mornings spent waking up next to women whose names he only faintly recalls, he'll realize he no longer misses you. He'll stop remembering the good times he had with you, and instead only remember the times you drove him completely insane. And, at that point, like a butterfly clawing out of its cocoon and taking flight, he'll have officially been reborn a stronger person. Strangely, at that very moment in time, you'll be sitting on a ratty futon with your ex while he eats Ritz crackers in his underwear and watches tapes of his favorite episodes of The World's Craziest Police Chases on his 13" TV/VCR combo.

And, if you should string along your husband instead of simply coming clean, that's exactly what you deserve.

Next question...

Selyna writes: I am a 17 year old single mother and my self-asteem is low and I feel like I have stopped living my life. My friends say I should refresh myself and pick it up.. are they right? Or should I just be a mom?

Yeah, Selyna (is that spelled correctly? Because I don't feel like it is...), you definitely wanna listen to those brilliant friends of yours. Chances are, they know what's best for you and, besides, the key to raising an emotionally-healthy toddler is to let it have some room to breathe. Trust me, no baby wants to be constantly-pampered by its mother. Let the little scamp have some "me time" now and then. On Friday nights, for instance. Ask your single mother (I know you didn't specifically say that your parents were divorced when you were ten, but let's be honest here: pregnant + seventeen years old = broken home and severe father issues) if she can watch your kid so that you can dress up, hang out with your pals, get drunk on Mike's Hard Lemonade and let the middle linebacker of your high school's football team finger you in a dimly-lit parking lot. That is what you mean by "refresh myself and pick it up," right?

Honestly, honey, you're kind of a retard. Obviously, having a kid at the age of seventeen might've been a slightly questionable choice, and I'm sure you realize that now, no matter how cute the little bastard might be when he/she isn't screaming at the top of his/her lungs at three in the morning.

Now, unless you want your kid to grow up to be just as much of a retard as you, the cycle must be broken. Pay attention to the kid. Lots of attention. Otherwise, your kid's doomed. If it's a girl, she'll grow up to be a drunken idiot who jumps from failed relationship to failed relationship before finally settling into a seedy rut of blowing random guys in the bathrooms of dive bars and interstate truck stops. And even worse, if it's a boy, he'll grow up to be a drunken idiot who jumps from failed relationship to failed relationship before finally settling into a seedy rut of blowing random guys in the bathrooms of dive bars and interstate truck stops.

Your life is over for the next eighteen years. Deal with it, and focus on raising the kid.

And that, Miss Joanna Hernandez (aka Cocktail of VH1's For the Love of Ray J) is how you dole out advice.

Got a dating or relationship question? Submit it here.

Introducing Mary Beth

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Fri, 25 Sep 2009 02:32:00 +0000

Dear readers, please allow me to introduce you to Mary Beth Sales, a young lass with a unique understanding of the intricacies of modern romance. We here at How to Meet Broads Inc. were introduced to her via the magic of the internet, and she was nice enough to agree to an interview. Without a doubt, there is much insight to be gained from her female perspective. Here goes...

Tell us a little about yourself. Who are you? Where are you from? What do you do for a living?

I'm Mary Beth. A true Midwesterner, I am a St. Louis girl at heart, so I love the Cardinals and hate the Cubs. Now I live in the crazy -- yet fabulous -- City of Angels. I'm a law school drop-out -- finally doing something in my life for myself. Since I love fashion, I'm a wardrobe stylist. And an on-camera host. A hustler. In other words, I get paid to shop and put clothes on people, and I get some extra cash by interviewing people on the red carpet. On the weekends (or, Mondays through Thursdays for LA locals, I should say), I play wingwoman for my guy friends.

What are the responsibilities of a good wingwoman?

In a nut shell, a good wingwoman will be her guy friend's teammate on a playing field, whether at a party, bar, club, sports event, wedding, etc. Teammates always work together. When the ball (aka the prospective female for the guy friend) enters the playing field, a good wingwoman will gradually build rapport with the prospective female. The wingwoman will make the prospective female smile, maybe compliment her, and ask what her plans are for the night, or for the weekend. Finally, a good wingwoman will pass the ball to her guy friend and bring the prospective female into communication with the him. It's up to him to score.

Where do you feel most men fail when attempting to talk to women?

Beginning with a really bad pick-up line. Or any pick-up line in general. Sometimes a simple, "Hi, my name is ______ " with a genuine smile just might work.

And don't ask whether I want you to buy me a drink. Just ask me what I'm drinking and duplicate it. If I take it, then lucky you. If I don't, gracefully take it for yourself to drink. Also, drinks should always be ordered and served in front of me. Or else I won't drink it at all. Can't trust a perfect stranger :)

What do you find attractive in a male?

A million dollar smile, confidence, swagger, ambition and a hustler mentality.

How do you define confidence, and how do you recognize that an individual has it?
I can't exactly define confidence, but I definitely know it when I see it.

A confident guy won't compete with me. He won't be so eager to list his entire academic CV after I tell him that I graduated college cum laude in three years and was accepted to an accelerated 2-year law program. He is proud and stands securely next to anyone. A confident guy has no problem making conversation with anyone. He is diplomatic. A truly confident man is humble. And wise.

When it comes to evaluating prospective mates, how important are the following to you: How much money a guy makes. What kind of car he drives. What he does for a living. His age. His height and weight.
Money is important. I don't want to have to worry about someone else's financial well-being -- I already have to worry about mine. What he does for a living is crucial. My prospective mate must be both happy and successful -- if you're making great money with your job, but don't really like it -- huge turn off.

Car -- not anymore. I've always wanted a man who will love me more than his car. Although, a nice car is a bonus. Just make sure it's equivalent to your standard of living -- don't drive a 996 Twin Turbo and live in an apartment that costs $1,300 a month. Like my ex did.

Age -- I once dated a guy 12 years older than myself. I'll never do it again. Well, at least in my mind, "older guys" think they know it all. Actually, age is a state of mind. I swore to myself I would never date someone under 28 (I'm 25) -- but I know 24-year-old guys who act maturely and have business minds like a 38-year-old. And a bomb smile? Total turn on.

Height -- has to be taller than I am when I'm wearing my highest heels. In other words -- at least 5'9". I love it when I look up and a guy kisses me on my forehead. And take care of your body. But eat well too. It shows that you're driven and have respect for yourself.

Do you find there to be a difference between dating in the Midwest and dating in Los Angeles?

I've thrown boys away like purple Jolly Ranchers here in LA. (I hate artificial grape flavors). I feel like there are so many guys to choose from, it doesn't phase me as much when I drop/lose them. I've talked to a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon, a software guru who's been featured in Forbes, the perfect-GPA-NCAA-athlete-of-the-year guy... I can always find something wrong with them. Here in LA, you'd be a fool to think that you're the "only one" whom someone is dating -- that goes for both guys and girls.

In the Midwest, guys hold doors, they never fail to politely introduce you to others, smile... I couldn't treat them like grape candy.

If you could give one piece of advice to guys who have difficulty meeting women, what would it be?

Smile. And be yourself. We can see right through you.

[Ed. note: Read more about the misadventures of Mary Beth Sales at her blog, www.marusedtoloveher.com.]

The Dog Brothers

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 14:41:00 +0000

Without a doubt, one of the greatest MTV moments of all time. In many ways, though, the Dog Brothers were ahead of their time. How is it they they never had their own show?

Dating Season

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Wed, 23 Sep 2009 03:20:00 +0000

As those of you who follow the Gregorian calendar may have heard, today was the first day of autumn. Within a few weeks, the weather will get a little chillier, the leaves will start to change colors and, next thing you know, you'll be opening up a box on Christmas morning, holding up a garish green sweater while masking your disappointment and saying something like, "Wow, this really looks cozy!"

Here's an interesting fact, though: Did you know that 77% of all long-term relationships begin during the spring and summer months?

You see, as with deer or elk hunting, dating has a "season," one with a definitive starting date and a definitive ending date. From the morning of February 15th through the wee drunken hours of Halloween night, it's dating season. That's not to say that it's impossible to meet and/or date someone during the offseason. It's simply made much more difficult by the cold weather, which causes many women to avoid leaving their homes entirely, and the gauntlet of awkward winter holidays, which seem designed to test the limits of even the strongest relationships.

For instance, let's say you meet a nice girl on November 4th. Good for you. But what happens on Thanksgiving? Do you spend it with one another? Does she invite you to her family's place? Or do you invite her to yours? It's a terrifying proposition.

What if you begin dating a girl in early February? What do you get her for Valentine's Day? Do you splurge on an expensive dinner? Do you buy her a gift? How do you decide what to get that would be nice and thoughtful, but not too nice and definitely not more thoughtful that whatever she'd get you?

And let's not forget about Christmas and New Year's Eve.

Instinctively, most people in this day and age recognize the sheer amount of mental calorie-burning that is usually necessary when beginning a relationship during the offseason and, thus, avoid the possibility entirely. So, for those of you who are genuinely looking to date a broad and haven't capitalized on the spring and summer months, get to work. In a little over a month, things are gonna get much more difficult.

Stay tuned… Tomorrow, we'll have an insightful interview with a real-live girl.

20 Signs That a Girl is Crazy

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Sun, 19 Jul 2009 21:21:00 +0000

Psychologically and emotionally, humans are essentially blank slates as toddlers. While there is evidence pointing to a genetic predisposition for some traits, such as alcoholism or depression, such predisposition tends to only come to fruition when triggered by traumatic experiences. Molested by your creepy uncle when you were seven? Perhaps you'll choose to cope by picking up the habit of self-destructive drug use that has been in your family for generations. Had the abuse not occurred, maybe you'd never be inclined to sneak into a filthy bathroom stall on a Saturday night and do lines of coke off the weiner of the roadie for Iron Maiden. Perhaps that trait might lay dormant forever.

The thing is, all of us – male or female – suffer traumatic experiences as children (it should be noted that the term "traumatic" is relative – that which sends one child into a spiral of depression might have no lingering effect on another). And, inevitably, those experiences have an impact that shapes who we become in adulthood. How we absorb and channel the emotions stemming from those experiences is the basis for the persona that we carry with us for the remainder of our lives. This is where males and females tend to deviate.

For the average male, the teenage years consist of playing sports, getting in fights and feverishly masturbating, all of which allow for the release of frustration and angst.

For the average female, the teenage years consist of learning how to behave to attract boys, while occasionally taking a break to passive-aggressively ridicule other females in hopes of causing them to develop life-threatening eating disorders which, down the road, will take them out of the competition for men. In our society, young women aren't usually presented with acceptable opportunities to let off some steam.

Which is why, as adults, women are generally batshit crazy.

I don't mean to sound cynical. While all women have some degree of craziness, much of it is manageable. However, there remains a significant percentage – maybe thirty percent – of the female population that is too far gone. They've let their childhood trauma get the best of them and, thus, are undateable.

While those girls, the truly crazy ones, might be fun for a drunken hookup – provided you take the time to hide your wallet beforehand so she doesn't wake up before you and run off with your credit cards – you absolutely, positively don't want to fall into the trap of thinking that you can change them. Craziness is not curable. It doesn't eventually go away on its own, like a common cold or chlamydia. A crazy girl will always be a crazy girl, and it's best to steer clear.

Luckily, there are some basic warning signs of craziness. If a girl possesses any of the following, run for the hills…

1) She cries when she drinks. Or she starts fights when she drinks. Or, really, she exhibits any dramatic behavioral change when she drinks. That tends to be a sign of alcoholism, which is often the result of childhood sexual abuse.

2) She attempts suicide. Or threatens to attempt suicide. Either stems from an insane amount of insecurity and/or depression.

3) She has multiple cats or dogs. Girls with multiple pets tend to be needy, and they're using their animals as a replacement for the companionship and/or love they never received as children.

4) She's worked as a stripper or a hooker at any point in her life. These girls are just ridiculously messed up on every level. Plus, funding her crystal meth habit can get expensive.

5) She accuses you of cheating on her when you're not. If she does this, chances are she's cheating on you.

6) She speaks in a high-pitched voice. When a girl is sexually-abused as a child, she may get emotionally stuck at that age. Her voice will never fully develop. Which, in and of itself, isn't a big deal. But the other ways in which she deals with the lingering emotions of that abuse are a big deal.

7) She has a child, but doesn't have custody. I don't care what she tells you, she did something horrendous. Normal women always receive custody of their children.

8) She loves Oprah. Generally-speaking, there's nothing wrong with Oprah. But many women choose to follow her blindly. Those women are idiots. The only thing worse than a girl whose behavior fluctuates wildly according to her own hormones is a girl whose behavior fluctuates wildly according to Oprah's stupid hormones.

9) She lies excessively and unnecessarily. This is a common trait of addicts. Not only will they lie about their alcohol/drug intake, but they'll also lie about whether or not they paid the electric bill or bought a gallon of milk at the store. The lying becomes a way of life.

10) She's never had an orgasm. Feel free to give it your all trying to give her that elusive first orgasm. But there's a good chance she was sexually-abused at some point. She's not normal.

11) She's constantly running late. I'm not sure what this stems from, but it's fucking disrespectful, and it never gets better. I don't care how hot a girl is, she doesn't have the right to show up two hours late when you have dinner reservations. And then complain about the spring rolls.

12) She displays excessive jealously. A sign of overwhelming insecurity and neediness.

13) She intermittently breaks into song. She's begging for attention. The minute you don't provide enough of it for her fickle tastes, she'll find another guy who will. If only her father had paid more attention to her.

14) She hates her father. Maybe he touched her inappropriately. Maybe he cheated on her mother. Maybe he simply didn't buy her that pony she wanted when she was ten. Whatever it is, she'll always have issues with men and will never be able to sustain a normal, healthy relationship.

15) She's had a restraining order filed against her. I'm sure, in her version of the story, it was just a silly misunderstanding. Don't buy it. She's nuts. And potentially dangerous.

16) She violates the basic rules of calling/text messaging. Does she call you repeatedly while you're at work? Does she send multiple text messages before you've had a chance to respond? She's needy. And it will only get worse.

17) She cuts herself. She's got some serious issues bubbling up inside her. They'll come back to bite you eventually.

18) She disappears randomly. Does she go for mysterious three-hour walks? Does she not answer her phone for days at a time? She's having sex with somebody.

19) She's friends with all of her ex-boyfriends. She's insecure and loves the attention they provide her. They serve as a reminder that someone was once, and probably still is, attracted to her, thus boosting her shaky self-esteem. And, when she gets bored or lonely or just mildly annoyed with you, she's having sex with them.

20) She has no female friends. She prides herself on being "one of the guys." Primarily because her female friends have rejected her. She's just too annoying, too manipulative, too conniving and too insecure. And she's hit on their boyfriends one too many times. So she has a circle of male friends instead. Whom she has sex with.

How to Become a Master Pick-Up Artist

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 23:14:00 +0000

People are always asking me, "Jeff C., how do I become a master pick-up artist like you?"

Obviously, there is no simple answer to this question… and really, let's be honest, the chances of anyone out there becoming even half as skilled as I am at meeting and seducing scores of beautiful women are slim-to-none. I got to where I am today – proudly perched atop the apex of the seduction community – through a long, arduous process of experimentation, analysis and frequent, painful rejection. Everyone in this world is different, and our individual life experiences shape each of us in a unique manner. That said, I do believe there are lessons to be learned by the path I took in my younger years, and if I can help just one lonely, self-conscious teenager gain the confidence he needs to succeed with women later on in life, then perhaps my story is worth telling. So here goes…

I was born in 1979 in the suburbs of Philadelphia. While my childhood was generally happy, marked by sun-drenched memories of Little League games and days spent swimming in the local pool, my teenage years felt more awkward than most. As my elementary school friends expanded their social circles, began going to weekend parties and dating, I retreated into an introverted shell, surrounding myself with comic books, video games and television. My average Friday night consisted of watching The X-Files alone in my bedroom while eating an entire box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.

In hindsight, I allowed this to happen. Childhood, generally-speaking, allows us to be free-spirited at all times. The rigors of day-to-day life do not concern us, because we tend to not be conscious of them. However, at a certain point, we cannot help but become conscious. We begin to see the world as it truly is. We begin to form individual thoughts and opinions. We begin to recognize our place in the universe. With this consciousness come self-consciousness. And, in my case, with that self-consciousness came self-doubt. Uncomfortable in my own skin and no longer feeling accepted by my peers, I decided that it was safer and more serene to reside in my lonely, solitary world than to risk rejection or judgment by those who populated the outside world.

Then came college.

I applied and was accepted to a school far from home. As I packed my bags, I could only envision a new town, new friends, and a new beginning.

But, as I spent the first several weekends alone in my dorm room while other freshmen went out and mingled, I realized that a simple change of environment wasn't enough. In order to fully experience life, I needed to change as well.

The television in my dorm room, with its seventy-odd channels and perfectly-adequate reception, worked just fine. But, rather than spend Sunday afternoons by myself, I strolled out to the lobby to watch football, long a passion of mine, with a handful of other students. In doing so, I gradually became friendly with several of them and, before too long, I was chatting with those same individuals during the bus ride to class. I was running into them in the library. I was being invited to their rooms on Friday nights to drink beer with their circle of friends and watch True Romance. I was going with them to keg parties at the homes of strangers. Which brings us to the most important part of my transformation…

Alcohol

I never drank in high school. Mostly because no one ever offered me alcohol. During my first few months of college, though, I learned two things: 1) I didn't particularly like the taste of beer, and 2) I absolutely, positively loved being drunk.

In an editorial from the May 2004 issue of Modern Drunkard Magazine, Frank Kelly Rich compares drinking to the tale of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. If you'd like, go ahead and read that editorial now. It's not very long. I'll wait, I promise. Done already? Okay, let's continue.

My Dr. Jekyll was painfully quiet and insecure. He was intelligent and had opinions he wanted to share, but far too often, he erred on the side of caution and kept his mouth shut. From afar, he looked at beautiful girls in awe. More than anything else, he wanted to approach them and strike up a conversation, but he was crippled by fear.

On the other hand, my Mr. Hyde was fun and outgoing. He was loud, gregarious and quick with a joke. He liked – nay, he loved – the feeling of making others laugh. He stole an orange cone from a street corner and carried it several blocks back to the dorms because he thought it would look good in his room. He showed his friends how, if you kicked the sprinklers in the park just right, they would break and shoot water straight up into the air. He could talk to anyone about anything. He was omnipotent.

Gradually, like Frank Kelly Rich, my Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde began to merge as well. My sober self became less insecure and more comfortable in social situations. In addition, during those numerous nights spent standing near a keg in someone's backyard, he learned a valuable lesson: That everyone likes meeting new people and, as long as you're kind and respectful, even the most stunningly gorgeous girl will happily have a conversation with you. Which brings us to the next aspect of my transition into a master pick-up artist…

Have Something to Talk About

As a teenager, I was passionate about the following things, in no particular order: Sports. Comic books. Video games. Masturbating.

Try having a conversation about any of those subjects with the blonde girl from your Intro to Psychology class. See how that works out.

Around the age of nineteen, though, I began reading voraciously. It started with a handful of music biographies, specifically those about Jim Morrison, who fascinated me at the time. Upon learning that he was a fan of On The Road, I ventured back into the writings of Kerouac and the Beat Generation. Then the Lost Generation of Hemingway and Fitzgerald. Then Existentialism. Then I jumped forward to the novels of Bret Easton Ellis and various other contemporary writers.

And you know what I realized in the process? That girls love talking about books. They love talking passionately about their favorite authors, about books they've read and about books they're planning to read. And now that I had painstakingly developed a passion for books as well, we had a common ground.

From then on, rather than trying to explain to girls how the New Jersey Devils ruined hockey with their defensive style in the mid-90's as they nodded vacantly and their attention wandered, I could always fall back upon books and carry on an intelligent, stimulating conversation.

But there is still one more piece of the puzzle that I need to discuss…

Don't be a Miserable Douche

You could be the smartest, most insightful man on the planet, but that means nothing if you don't understand how to talk to others. Simply put, it doesn't matter what you say if the manner in which you say it is a turn-off.

Even after I successfully emerged from my teenage seclusion, I still carried with me the attitude that I'd used as a self-defense mechanism during my lonelier years. With a few cups of negativity and a dash of unearned pomposity, it would need to be shed before anyone truly wanted to talk to or be around me on a regular basis.

And, on one balmy summer afternoon, I decided that it was time for a change. No longer would I be negative. No longer would I have an artificial ego. I began to say "please" and "thank you" at every opportunity, sometimes in excess. Every now and then, if the situation seemed appropriate, I'd throw in a "sir" or "ma'am." I held open doors for everyone. I even made a conscious effort to limit the number of negative words and phrases I used in conversation, such as "no" or "never" or "I hate [insert name of crappy band, movie or television show here]."

You know what? It worked. From girls in bars to customer service reps at the bank, people were immediately nicer and more receptive when I went out of my way to be nice to them.

After speaking to you, others should walk away feeling good about themselves. Don't make them feel less important to you. If need be, go out of your way to make them feel more important than you. Don't let them see your ego. Instead, do everything you can to boost their ego. Don't belittle anyone. Their opinions are just as valid as yours. And don't be miserable and mopey. No one's life is perfect, and they don't want to hear about your problems.

So, to sum up, here are a few basic things you need to do to become an internationally-acclaimed master pick-up artist like me…

1. Leave your comfort zone and meet people.

2. Drink heavily.

3. Read a few books, dumbass.

4. Be someone whom others want to be around.

Building a Better Crab Boat

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 17:20:00 +0000

As all you know, I am a master pick-up artist, unrivaled in the art of seduction.

That said, every now and then, I feel trapped by this label. Sure, I can walk into the best bars and clubs and leave an hour later with my arms around the best looking women, but do those women really appreciate me for who I am inside, or are they merely under the spell of my devastating charm and charisma?

Ultimately, it is advantageous for all individuals to ask questions like these. Self-rumination leads to a better understanding of oneself, and the better you understand yourself, the better you understand all of humanity. Questioning that which you sometimes take for granted leads to enlightenment. And the enlightened mind has an advantage over all others, simply because occasionally we can become blind to our own flaws. We do something so often and for so long that it eventually becomes commonplace, and it remains just successful enough for us to never once consider changing that habit. And maybe there's no need to. But, every now and then, just outside our peripheral vision, there's a better solution to the problem. All we need to do is look a little closer.

Which brings me to the point of this post. I warn you, it doesn't really have anything to do with meeting beautiful women or driving them to the heights of passion. But it is something I've needed to get off my chest for a few weeks now, ever since I watched a Deadliest Catch marathon on TV a few Sundays ago…

Crab boats should be safer. And I have a few ideas for how to make them so. Once these changes are implemented, the show can officially be renamed Moderately Exciting – but Definitely Not Deadly – Catch. So here goes:

1. Apparently, people get knocked off these boats by waves all the time and get sucked out to sea. Which is why, on the ultra-safe crab boat I'm designing, we will have eight-foot high fencing along both sides, with a small sliding door on both sides that can be opened when it's time to drop some cages into the water or pull them out. Should a giant wave come along while the men were hard at work, it might knock them over. It might fling them against the fence. But no longer would they tragically get swept away to their deaths.

2. Admittedly, while the fence will save countless number of lives, it's still not foolproof. What if a fifty-foot wave came out of nowhere and tipped the boat on its side? Well, I'm glad you asked. All of the fishermen on the deck will be tethered to the boat using bungee cords. These will clip harmlessly onto their belts and allow them a full range of motion at all times. But, should they somehow managed to get tossed overboard despite my brilliant fence idea, they'll still be connected to the boat, and they can be pulled in with ease.

3. Another everpresent danger on the deck of a crab boat is the giant cages that are always swinging around at the end of the crane. On television, these cages look to be about eight feet wide and eight feet tall and, even when empty, might weigh close to two hundred pounds. Needless to say, this isn't safe for anyone. If you and your deckmates are dropping those cages into the water in a vicious storm and you get clipped with one that's swinging around, you're knocked clear across the boat, often mumbling to yourself, "Geez, it's a good thing that fence was there… otherwise, I woulda been knocked into the water." Which is why my new generation of crab boat will eliminate those cages. Instead, we will use high-strength steel netting. A salt-based pole will be placed inside the net before it enters the water. This will hold it open and allow the crabs access. However, after 24 or 48 hours or whatever, the pole will dissolve and the net will envelope the crabs inside. When pulled back into the boat, the fishermen must merely dump the crabs, then toss the pliable, lightweight net into a pile. No longer will all boats need giant stacks of cages at the start of their trip. They will merely need a nice little pile of nets.

4. I'll admit, this fourth suggestion might not be feasible quite yet. But, with an eye toward the future of crabbing, I feel that all captains should examine the possibility of eliminating the crab boat entirely, to be replaced with, you guessed it, submarines with crab-sucking vacuum arms. This way, the crew would be completely enclosed at all times, eliminating virtually all danger, and the crabs could efficiently be sucked off the ocean floor, into the submarine and sorted.

And there you have it. You're welcome, crab-fishing industry.

Nice Guys vs. Jerks

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Wed, 27 May 2009 05:07:00 +0000

While I was checking the Twitter (as the kids call it) earlier this evening, feverishly awaiting the next post from Ashton Kutcher, I happened to notice a link to the eHarmony.com blog, where they dissect many age-old relationship issues. In a post dated August 21, 2008, they ask the question, "Do Nice Guys Really Finish Last?" and I feel as though it is my duty as a certified relationship expert to offer my take.

While I lost interest in the article in question halfway through the first paragraph because of a lot of big words, so I'm not entirely sure what their point was, here's my opinion, and it is one of the main ideas of the How to Meet Broads system: Nice guys don't finish last. But little pansies who don't stand up for themselves do.

Once upon a time, men were cowboys and soldiers, dockworkers and bare-knuckle boxers. They drank and smoked and ate steaks dripping with the blood of a freshly-slaughtered cow. They conquered opposing tribes. They harnessed the power of fire. They build pyramids, then castles, then skyscrapers, all as monuments to their own greatness. And they never once stood in a fucking department store trying to pick out a goddamn bathmat.

These days, the male race, by and large, has been figuratively castrated. Blame psychology for encouraging men to not only have feelings, but to openly discuss them. Did John Wayne have unresolved mother issues? Hell no. Blame the combination of capitalism and technology for putting most men in a cubicle for nine hours a day, where they waste away typing up expense reports. Did John Dillinger spend his time emailing expense reports to his post-menopausal regional manager? Absolutely not. Blame American affluence and the health food movement of the Eighties for turning a large number of normally-heterosexual men into non-smoking, tofu-eating, Diet Fanta-drinking wusses. Did Ulysses S. Grant ever look out over a battlefield while sipping a glass of toxin-clearing pomegranate green tea? No fucking way.

Society has, in its genuinely noble effort to advance and prolong life, created a race of men who are, in truth, men by name only.

But humans remain animals and, as animals, our sole reason for being alive is to reproduce. Certainly, we have evolved as a species and will continue to do so, but as much as we've attempted – and, for the most part, succeeded – in the art of repression, we are still ultimately driven by our simple, reptilian brains and its animalistic impulses. Thus, what we are attracted to is a part of the genetic code that keeps humanity alive. This is why men will always naturally be drawn to the female with the ideal breast-to-waist ratio, indicating that she might be good for breeding. And what do women want, regardless of whether or not they consciously realize it?

Dudes.

Strong-willed, decisive and proud, dudes are the modern-day equivalent of the protectors of the tribe. Once upon a time, dudes killed wooly mammoths to provide food. They built thatch huts to provide shelter from the elements.

These days, dudes drink beer and watch football with their male friends. They can fix cars, grill steaks and connect stereos. They don't fight, but if push came to shove, they would stand up for what's right. They would protect those to whom they are loyal at all time. They're smart enough to get by and strong enough to pick up a woman, carry her across a room and toss her onto the bed.

In addition, dudes don't wax their chest. Or any other parts of their body. They don't cry a bit at the end of The Notebook. They don't talk about how much their shoes cost. Dudes don't go antiquing, and they don't own dogs that weigh less than thirty pounds.

Like the cowboys from whom they are descended, dudes are independent by nature and won't take shit from anyone, male or female.

The wussification of male culture is gradually killing the dude, but women, whether they choose to accept it or not, are naturally drawn to them.

Nice guys don't finish last.

Weak, sensitive pansies do.

The Rules of Engagement

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Fri, 08 May 2009 18:58:00 +0000

I was hanging out with friend at a bar a few weeks back and a girl gave him her number. Obviously, he was thrilled, as anyone would be in that situation. I told him to call her the following night around eight o'clock and invite her out (because we already had a big group drinking thing planned). Instead, he listened to the advice of a mutual female friend of ours and sent the girl a horribly pathetic text message instead. He never heard back from her. So, for his sake and for the sake of every guy who ever blew a potentially good thing because they have no clue how to effectively go about transitioning from talking to a chick in a bar to waking up next to her, allow me to present the official How to Meet Broads rules of engagement.

The Initial Conversation
Okay, you're in a bar. You're talking to a girl. Things are going well. There's a natural rhythm to the conversation, and she seems to be genuinely interested in whatever it is you're telling her. Once she starts telling you a story about her pet cats or her favorite pair of shoes, you take the opportunity to let your mind wander, and you can't help but look into the future. Sure, you've just met this girl, but she's cute and fun and, you know, you certainly wouldn't mind hooking up with her. Sure, she doesn't seem particularly slutty, so you might have to put in some work before you can get her into bed, but you're willing to do what you've got to do. And then, a few weeks or months down the road, maybe you'll be waking up next to her on lazy Sunday mornings. Maybe the two of you will go shopping at Home Depot, then Bed, Bath and Beyond if there's time. Maybe you'll order pizza in the early evening and watch movies on the couch, her fingers intertwined with yours. Sure, you've just met this girl, and you hate to get so far ahead of yourself, but the snap judgments we make tend, more often than not, to be right, so why deny it? You wouldn't mind dating her.

While you should always angle to take a girl home with you the first night you meet her, rarely does that actually pan out. So you'll need to get her contact information. And, while it's natural to have a fear of rejection, women will generally give out their phone number and/or e-mail address to just about any guy who isn't a complete douche. As far as they're concerned, they can simply ignore any phone calls, text messages or e-mails if they so choose. Which is why, in the course of the first conversation, you should always find an innocent reason that you absolutely, positively need to get in touch with her.

A few years back, I was sitting alone at a bar on a Monday night. At some point, a cute little brunette came in and sat in the stool to my right. When her friend started talking to some guy, the brunette quietly sipped her wine and flipped through the pages of a book she'd brought with her. I waited a minute or two, then asked what she was reading. I don't remember what she said because I was mind-bogglingly drunk, but she and I got to talking about various contemporary authors. She mentioned a book that she'd read recently that I'd never heard of, but as she continued to insist that it was brilliantly-written, I said that I'd check it out and, once I was finished reading it, give her my comprehensive review. She gave me her number and I said I'd be in touch.

By the following morning, because I'm a drunken idiot, I'd forgotten the name of the book she'd mentioned. So, after work, I drove down to Barnes & Noble and, as I perused the fiction section, futilely looking for anything that rang a bell, I called her. I got her voice mail and explained my predicament. Two minutes later, she called back and reminded me of the title of the book and the name of the author. I thanked her and told her I'd give her a call when I was done.

I burned through that five-hundred page fucker in two days and, when I reached the end of the last page a little after midnight on Wednesday of that week, I sent the girl a text message telling her that I was done. The following afternoon, a few text messages were exchanged and, that night, she and I met up for drinks. And we did discuss the book briefly, but I assume that she and I both knew that the whole book thing was merely an excuse I used to hang out with her. Back at her place that night, there was a little bit of kissing and, long story short, I ended up dating her for a while. And it all began with that stupid book.

So, during any initial conversation with a girl, as soon as you get the sense that you'll eventually be calling her and trying to get her into bed, you should plant some proverbial seeds that will make her more likely to return your call, because while most women are fun and outgoing when they're out drinking with their friends, many of them revert back to being guarded and prudish the following morning, once the alcohol has worn off. Thus, the chances of a sober woman responding to your standard, "Do you wanna get together for drinks?" are approximately thirty percent. But the chances of her responding to "Hey, what was the name of that John Cusack movie you mentioned?" are roughly eighty to ninety percent.

To sum up, during that first conversation, plant the seeds. It will help immensely down the road, when you're trying to plant some other seeds...

How Long to Wait
One of the most-frequently debated topics in the Art of Seduction is how long one should wait before contacting a girl. Centuries ago, two days became the industry standard. Some people like to keep a girl on edge and wait three days. In Swingers, Double Down Trent waits six days. Here's my advice: It doesn't matter.

As long as you're not calling her at three AM the night you met her, and as long as you're not waiting until two months later, it simply doesn't matter how long you wait. Every situation is different, and you need to play it by ear.

Perhaps you met a girl at a bar on a Friday night, and you want to stay fresh in her mind. In that situation, there's absolutely nothing wrong with making contact the next day. Call her up late on Saturday afternoon or early evening, before she has the chance to make other specific plans, and invite her out for drinks.

Perhaps you met a girl on a Saturday evening, and you had a great conversation. As long as you're sure she'll remember you, you can get away with waiting until the following Thursday, at which point you'll track her down and make plans to do something that weekend.

When it comes to how long one should wait before making contact, the only rule is that there are no definite rules.

Methods of Contact
You've got a girl's number. You're interested in her. Now, all you have to do is make contact. And, in this day and age, while text messaging has become completely acceptable, I still like the old-fashioned phone call. The reason for this is two-fold:

1) It provides you with options. Let's say you call her up. If she answers, great. If you get her a voicemail, leave her a message. Maybe she'll get back to you, or maybe she won't. But even if she doesn't respond to your voicemail, you can still come back with a casual text message a few days later. If you start out with a text message and she doesn't respond, you've got nowhere to go from there. You can't go from text message to phone call. And what kind of loser will send a second text message after they got no response to the first one? So start with the phone call and work your way down the ladder.

2) You demonstrate that you're not afraid of her. A woman is like an octopus. She can smell fear. If a woman thinks you're too shy to dial her up and talk to her, you've already lost. Through your phone behavior, show her just how awesome you are. Show her that you've got the cojones to call up a girl. Watch any Penn State football game (or any Penn State player in the NFL). When the team scores, the player casually tosses the ball to the ref and jogs off the field. You'll never see a Penn State player spike a ball, or dunk it over the crossbar, or do a complex dance celebration. You know why? Because, for fifty years, Joe Paterno has been telling his players, "Act like you've been there before." So, while it's natural to be somewhat nervous when you're calling a girl, act like you've done it before. She'll respect the fact that you're not a socially-awkward pansy.

What to Say
Once upon a time, a male would meet a female. He would charm her and she would give him her phone number. He would proceed to call her and ask her if she was interested in going on a date with him, and she would say yes and, a few days later, he would hop into the driver's seat of his '49 Mercury, cruise over to her house while the electric sounds of Bill Haley & the Comets blare from his tinny AM radio, and he would go up and knock on the door and she would answer, smiling, and he would hand her the bouquet of flowers he'd purchased for her earlier and then the two of them would drive down to the local soda shop and have some cheeseburgers and milkshakes.

It doesn't work like that anymore.

We're a fast-paced culture these days. No one has the time or the desire to commit to spending two hours eating a meal or watching a movie with someone who they don't know and, quite possibly, will quickly find to be obnoxious. These days, only a fucking retard calls a girl and says something like, "Gee, would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?"

The better approach is to call up a few friends and arrange to meet up at a bar some evening. Once that's in place, call the girl. If she answers, make some some talk before extending the invitation. If you get her voicemail, no problem. Just say something like, "Hey, it's [your name], from [name of bar where you met her] the other night. Some friends and I are going to [name of bar] tonight/tomorrow night/whenever, so you should round up your entourage and come on by. I'll see you then. Cheers."

That right there is the perfect voicemail. I've been fine-tuning it for nearly a decade, ever since I first started meeting girls in bars. It works because, in the course of some fifteen or twenty seconds, you convey several important aspects of your personality...

1) You're fun and casual. You're not putting any pressure on her, or yourself. You're just inviting her to come hang out for a few drinks. No big deal. People love hanging out and drinking.

2) You have friends. You're not some freak who spends most of his time in his basement painting scale models of Star Wars characters.

3) You're nonchalant. Your plans aren't hinging on her. They're already in place. If she blows you off, she'll be missing out on a potentially good time and you'll be moving on to the next girl. Her loss.

4) You're confident. You're not asking her to join you for a drink. You're telling her that she should join you. Despite the great strides that women have made in American society over the past forty years, that doesn't override millions of years of evolution. Males are still the more powerful half of our species, and women will always be aroused by a male who demonstrates dominance and control.

Second Contact
If you receive no response to your initial contact, don't despair. I won't sugarcoat the situation; if she was genuinely interested, she probably would've called you back, but you can still attempt to salvage things. Be aware, though, that while the conversion rate for the first contact is roughly thirty percent, that rate drops dramatically for the second contact. But, as long as your first contact was done via a phone call, you can still send a text message a few days later without sacrificing too much pride.

However, if she didn't respond to your first attempt to meet up with her in a social situation, she's probably not going to respond to a second attempt to arrange a pseudo-date. So, instead, you'll need to improvise. Remember that, despite recent scientific studies which have proven that men's brains are indeed thirty percent larger than the average female's, women still like to think that they're much smarter than their male counterparts, and feel that they are impeccably equipped to offer advice on virtually any subject. You can use this to your advantage.

Wait three or four days after your first attempt at contact. Around seven or eight PM, send her a text message in which you ask an innocent question designed to appeal to her instinctual maternal need to offer advice and guidance to dumb males.

Something like "I'm baking chocolate chip cookies and I think I threw away the recipe. You're a girl, right? How much flour am I supposed to use?"

Or "Some friends and I were arguing about this earlier: What was the name of Tiffany-Amber Theissen's character on Beverly Hills, 90210?"

Just be fun and whimsical. Maybe she writes back, maybe she doesn't. If she does, you can wait a day or two and try a phone call again. If she doesn't respond, you move on.

Moving On
Always remember, girls are weird. Perhaps she gave your their number just to be polite. Perhaps she liked the ego-trip you gave her by asking for her contact information. Perhaps she has a husband or a boyfriend or perhaps, once she sobered up, she just wasn't particularly interested in you. While you'll be tempted to be bummed out by her lack of response, don't be. The world's population is nearly seven billion. Approximately two billion of those people are under the age of eighteen. Another two billion are over the age of forty. That leaves three billion people between the ages of eighteen and forty, meaning there are roughly 1.5 billion potentially-available women in this world. 1.5 billion! And you're gonna let the actions of one flaky broad whom you barely know affect your mental health? If she fails to recognize that meeting you was the best thing that could've happened to her, to hell with her. She's obviously not worth your time.

After your second unsuccessful attempt to make contact, erase her from your phone and your consciousness, regroup and focus your energies on the other 1,499,999,999 viable vaginas on this planet.

Women at a Glance

noreply@blogger.com (Jeff C.) — Tue, 07 Apr 2009 15:54:00 +0000

Most men will readily admit that they don't understand women. But there are a handful of behavioral traits that are common throughout the female species, and being able to recognize and understand these traits will give you an advantage over your competition. Here a few universal facts about women that you may not know...

• Women like to talk about themselves.

• Women like chocolate.

• Women are not good at arm-wrestling.

• Women are secretly in love with their fathers.

• Women instinctively know how much bleach to use in a load of laundry.

• A woman's brain is thirty-percent smaller than the average male's, thus they can be outsmarted.

• Women pee from some indeterminate area in or around the vagina.