Dear Bar Patrons

A few quick tips to better your service at my bar. Some of these are quite general, while others may be directed at a more specific audience. Due to time constraints and your obvious lack of attention, the list has been considerably shortened.

Slick Guy over 50- I can see your still-wet hair, glittery bitch watch, two rings, your beemer key chain and that crisp 50 dollar bill you keep waving like a white peace flag to stop Indians from raping you. All that 50 will do is take all the change out of my register, none of which is going to end up back on my bar you cheap fuck. I’m busy, wait your turn like the other 48 people in front of you. And tell that 40-yr old skank you were hanging with that she’s a real trendsetter w/ that Poison-style lid she was sporting.

Blond Honey-I know you’re hot, you’re actually fuckin smokin, and if you were in a bar where I was drunk I’d probably pull a “flyby” on you (that’s where I cruise around, “accidently” bumping into hotties to cop a cheap feel), but this ID looks like something my niece made in her 1st grade art class. If I serve you and lose my job, can you gaurantee me lifelong BJs and monthly stipends from Daddy’s Trust Fund? If not, get the fuck out of my bar.

Graduated Frat Boy w/ the Shiny New Job-No, I don’t know where you can get “some good shit.” Just because I’m a bartender doesn’t make me Pablo fucking Escobar. And even if I was holding a tweener and looked like I just drilled a few lines while checking for some non-existent drink condiment in the pantry downstairs, I would definitely use it in a bribe attempt with the Hottie (see tip #2) before sharing it with your secret-handshake ass.

Inexperienced Group Leader-You’ve been milling around in line, waiting a good 10 minutes for a drink. I’ve no problem that you have 9 people in the group (Believe me, I can knock out a 9 drink order for a group quicker than Oprah can finish a melting ice cream cone), that the girls are getting impatient for a Cosmo, its a bar and these issues are fairly prevalent on any busy night. But when you finally get to the front of the line and I say “What can I get for everyone?” your response should be something to the effect of, say, quickly and clearly barking out a precise 9 drink order. NOT, “Hey what does everybody want?” Christ pal, maybe while your bitch was pissing and moaning for 10 minutes your college-educated ass should have thought to ask her (and everybody else) what the fuck they were thirsty for. And don’t give me that “you shot my Yellow Lab” look while I ignore your preppy ass for the next half hour.

My name is not: Bartender, Buddy, Pal, Guy, Bro, Garzon (you pretenious prick (and by the way, don’t ever again ask for a Stolichnaya up, say Stoli or I will take that 800 pg saga you brink in to read on Wed. evenings and crack your fucking skull) ). I know I’m a fucking bartender, it said so on the application. You are not my buddy or pal, I’ve never seen you before in my life. I am not your bro, I have two sisters buttfuck, and besides them, the only other people I allow to address me as “bro” are the Homeys on my Thursday rec hoop league and my 5 best friends. And Garzon? Fuck you. I have to wear a retarded name tag while I’m working dickface, the least you could do is take a fucking nanosecond to read it.

Teacher on a Date-Dude, its obvious you don’t go out much. You’ve got this bouncy little muffin on your arm, looking excited about “the big night out.” I can tell you are a bit uncomfortable w/ the bar scene, but Jeez O’ Fucking Peets, you’re a teacher, do some goddamn research. Your girl had no problem figuring out what she wanted (not to mention she was no freakin Einstien) but never, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES, EVER, ask me what you should have to drink. There are beer bottles on the shelves behind me, liquor bottles everywhere, Fuckin A., even a menu 3 pages long. Maybe you drink like a cooze and need a strawberry daquiri, or want to look sophisticated by knocking back a Glenlivit or two, why the fuck would I know what the fuck you should have. Nothing looks more pussy than a man who knows not what he wants to drink. (A tip that will not only help you at my bar, but prevent you from looking like a total maid in front of your lady.)

Drunk Fuck-I’ve saved you for last. I didn’t cut you off for being drunk. I love drunk people and, when I’m not behind the bar, I usually fall in that category. There are a few actions that I consider “stepping over the line” and these will get you escorted out of my bar, either peacefully or with the Louisville Slugger I keep over the bar. (It was signed by my whole Pee Wee Reese team when I was twelve and I hit a game winning double to send us into the state semi-finals. Then we got our asses beat by thirteen runs in the semi’s because Jimmy fucking Jankowski couldn’t throw a strike to save his life.)

But I digress.

Drunk Fuck-You cannot stumble over in a fit of drool and incoherent Torret’s speak, grab one of my cocktail server’s (especially the one I’ve been trying to bang for a month now), grab her ass while trying to whisper in her ear, get rejected and begin to pull that inhaler-sized spoke out of your pants to drown the bar in piss, without expecting me to beat your ass. In the end, I’m not sure what was funnier: the look of total bewilderment on your face when I told you to get the fuck out, or your nose bleeding like an unkinked garden hose as the cops dragged your pathetic ass out. Thanks for stopping by.

Folks, if you follow even just a few of these guidlines, I promise the night out will be more enjoyable for me and you.

This is in or around your local watering hole.

I Man; You Woman

Hi.

Reasons to date me:
- I am a man.

This means the following:
- I have a penis (dimensions upon request)
- I have two testicles (dimensions upon request)
- I complain
- I have a poor morning disposition (references upon request)
- I emit occasionally offensive odors
- I will embarrass you more than you embarrass me (extrapolated from historical data)
- I eat meat (see note above re: offensive odors)
- I drink
- I drink more than you (assuming you weigh less than 175 pounds)
- I drink to get drunk (see note above re: poor morning disposition)
- I drink to make you fun
- I curse (if you don’t like it, fuck you)
- I am fun (ask anybody, except your friend Jessica – she’s a bitch anyway)
- I employ logic to solve a problem
- Predicting my disposition is as simple as knowing the winning percentage of the NY Giants
- I hate your ex-boyfriends
- I like fire, with or without the cigarettes
- I do stupid shit like testing the absorbancy of spinach gnocchi at a dinner party whenever the conversation bores me
- I recognize that when someone utters the phrase “This is so fun/great/exciting/etc” they are internally miserable
- I lie, but only to avoid offending you (“Those jeans look great on you”)
- I watch porn (frequency is inversely proportional to our sexual frequency)
- I am presumptuous (see note above re: our sexual frequency)
- I watch sports
- I listen to music that makes me feel good
- I say your friend is getting fat when I know damn well she weighs less than you do
- I hate PDA
- I think you have at least 2 hot friends
- I am messy
- I think your friends suck
- I am confident, mainly as a result of general indifference
- I smell like one of the following: cologne, soap, deoderant, your cigarette
- I am smart enough to know when to end a pointless argument
- I love me, with or without you

What I’m looking for:
- A woman

This means the following:
- You have a vagina (details on plumage to be sent with picture)
- You have two breasts (dimensions to be sent with picture)
- You bitch
- You have a poor disposition (every 28th day or whenever you feel like blaming your own problems on me)
- You emit occasionally offensive noises (like that laugh you fake over the phone when responding to a joke you know isn’t funny)
- You are easily embarrassed (thanks to a genuine concern for what strangers think of you)
- You eat chicken and sushi
- You drink apple martinis
- You drink fewer apple martinis than I do (assuming you weigh less than 175 pounds)
- You drink to forget abusive ex-boyfriends
- You drink to make me bearable to be around
- You curse (and I like it)
- You’re fun, whenever you’re not around your girlfriends (that Jessica turns you into such a bitch)
- Your arguments lack cohesive thought processes and logic (your solutions are most often supported by all the empirical evidence contained in the sentence “just because.”)
- Predicting your disposition requires an intimate knowledge of string theory
- You somehow cannot deduce that all of your ex-boyfriends are still trying to fuck you
- You like to smoke socially, but only so as not to feel excluded
- You do stupid shit like use my toothbrush to fish your mascara out of the toilet, or open a toxic can of paint with a knife taken from the same drawer that the screwdriver is in
- You lack the ability to recognize that when you say “This is so fun/great/exciting/etc” that you are forcing it
- You like it when I lie
- You hate porn, but only because you know it can replace you, if only temporarily
- You are presumptuous (“Where are we going for dinner?”)
- You watch reality TV
- You listen to music that makes you cry
- You say you’re getting fat while wolfing down your 3rd slice of pizza
- You like PDA because you’re starved for attention
- You hate knowing I think your friends are hot, and tell me embarrassing stories about them behind their backs in an effort to make them seem less desirable, when in actuality, you’re making them seem more attainable
- You are somehow messier than I am, but it’s always my fault
- You think your friends suck more than I think they do, but you’ll never admit it
- You have self-esteem issues, mainly as a result of nothing I can control
- You always smell like your shampoo
- You hate it when I am smart enough to realize when pursuing an argument is futile (see note above re: logic)
- You love being with someone
- Deep down inside, you know all of this is true

email me. I tell it like it is.

Guys Like Smokers

Guys like smokers because they’re cheaper dates and they’re easier to get into bed. Yeah this isn’t always true, but in general, it’s easier to get into a smokers pants than a non-smokers.

Before you freak out and call me names, think about this: Places where smokers hang out are far more likely to be the area meat markets. Non-smokers go to bars & pubs where they can talk with the people they came with. Maybe they’ll get food too. Smokers just need a place they can go to smoke. They’re less likely to even want food. They’re smoking. They’re cheaper dates.

Non-smokers are likely to go out hiking and biking and doing outdoorsy stuff. Non-smokers make for great friends because there’s always something to do. Smokers are likely to go wherever they can hang out and smoke. Smokers are great for when you want to get laid because they’re where the action begins: the seedy meat markets.

It’s also true that people are more likely to think something is OK to do if they’re seeing other people do it. You don’t see people hooking up on their way out of church do you? Of course not. Go to bars and pubs where non-smokers hang out, and they’re eating and talking with the people they came with (usually). It’s harder to get in there and pick one of them up. But you see it all the time where smokers hang out. That means a smoker’s less likely to frown on a one night stand because they see it all the time. So, you hang out with smokers and put on the charm. Before you know it, you’re headed home with a smoker for the old hump and dump.

Here’s the best part. Fuck that smoker like there’s no tomorrow. Tie her up if she’s into that, take her from behind, let her ride you, throw her legs over your shoulders and really give it to her. Whatever you both like. But make sure you really fuck her hard. Make her tremble, make her sweat. Fuck her to the point where she has to remind herself to breathe. She’s giving you her body, so make sure you make it worth her while, y’know? Plus, if you’ve banged the holy hell out of her, she’s going to need a cig. When she goes outside for a smoke, lock your door and go back to bed.

Man I love a good night’s sleep.

Dinner Whore

My dinner whore story… I met a very attractive young lady, who happened to be a friend of an acquaintance. We talked, hit it off and before I left we exchanged numbers. We spoke on the phone a few times, and scheduled a date. She wanted to do something simple, like go to starbucks and then walk and talk in central park. I thought that sounded like a good idea, so we met up. We ended up staying in the park for hours, talking, laughing and eventually kissing. It got late, and we were both starting to get hungry so I asked if she wanted to go and get something to eat. She had a restaurant in mind, and it was a place I hadn’t been… So remembering the Gap Jacket Guy story, I was on alert. The place was actually a cool little spot that had very reasonably priced food. Not what I expected. So, we ordered a glass of wine while we waited to be seated, and the whole time I was waiting for the dinner whore to expose herself. We ordered food, and she only ordered two appetizers. It doesn’t take a lot to get her full. Then, she started… ordering more wine. All in all she had 4 glasses of wine, at a price of *get this* $4 a glass.

What the fuck? Did she think I was some asshole? She was going to get tipsy off of a bottle of wine and expect me to pay for it? As I was finishing my meal, I was trying to plan my escape. I didn’t have a gap jacket, but a leather jacket that I really like and I wasn’t ready to leave that on the chair. Plus it was a little chilly outside. Anyway… before I knew it, the waiter brought us the check. Apparently through all of the laughing and talking we closed the place… And that is when Dinner Whore strikes. She reaches for the bill. Yeah, right… like she really wanted to pay. I grabbed the bill and was already pissed off that I was getting taken advantage of like this. She kept trying to take out money to pay for her share… but I knew it was only a dinner whore jedi mind trick. So, I paid the $50 bucks and went outside. There she started hugging and kissing me. We must have stayed out there for another half of an hour kissing, and the whole time I was fuming b/c dinner whore was really trying to fuck me over. That bullshit was too much for me to take, so finally I left. I walked her home and we kissed again at her door, and then she asked if I wanted to come up for one more drink. LAST STRAW. FUCK THAT. I wasn’t going to keep being played for a fool, so I fucking said “no thanks dinner whore I won’t keep being your walking meal ticket” and left.

She was shocked. Score one for me, the dinner whore avenger.

The Queer Test

1. If you are over 30 and you have a washboard stomach, you’re gay. It means you haven’t sucked back enough beer with the boys and rather you’ve been sucking-off the boys and have spent the rest of your free time doing sit-ups, aerobics, and doing the Oprah diet.
2. If you have a cat, you are a Flaaaayming Fag. A cat is like a dog, but Gay: it grooms itself constantly but never scratches itself, has a delicate touch except when it uses its nails, and whines to be fed. And just think about how you call a dog…”Killer, come here! I said get your ass over here!” Now think about how you call a cat…”Bun-bun, come to daddy, snookums!” Jeeezus, you’re the poster boy for GAY.
3. If you suck on lollipops, Ring-Pops, baby-dummies, boiled lollies or any such nonsense, rest assured, you are a Gaylord. A straight man only sucks stubbies, shots, bar-b-q ribs, crab-claws, raw oysters, cray-fish guts, pickled eggs, or titties. Anything else and you are in training to suck El-Dicko and undeniably a Fag.
4. If you refuse to have a shit in a public toilet or piss in a parking lot, you’re in a deep homosexual relationship. A man’s world is his toilet; he defecates and urinates where he pleases. A real man will shoot, shit, sleep where ever he likes
5. If you drink decaf coffee with skim milk, you like a high hard one in the poop-chute. Coffee has to be had strong, black (or with thick, wholesome milk) and full-aroma. A pussy-eating man will never be heard ordering a “Decaf Cafe Latte with Skim or with a twist of lemon” and he will never, ever know what artificial sweetener tastes like. If you’ve had NutraSweet in your mouth, you’ve had a dick in there too.
6. If you know more than six names of colours or four different types of dessert, you might as well be handing out a free pass to your arse. A real man doesn’t have memory space in his brain to remember all of that crap as well as all the names of all the players in the NFL, NBA, NHL and Nascar. If you can pick out chartreuse or you know what a “fresier” is, you’re gay. And if you can name ANY type of textile other than denim, you are faggadocious!
7. If you drive with both hands on the wheel, forget it… you’re hungry for man sausage. A man only puts both hands on the wheel to honk at slow-arse drivers or to cut the motherfucker off. The rest of the time he needs that hand to change the radio station, eat his hamburger, hold his beer, finger the bitch in the passenger seat (whoever she happens to be), or talk on his mobile phone.
8. If you enjoy romantic comedies or French films, mon-frere, vous sonnez le Gay, oui? The only time it is acceptable to watch one of those is with a woman who knows how to reward her man. Watching any of the above films by yourself or with another man is likely to result in SHC (spontaneous homosexual combustion), which is what happens to fags when they flame out too quickly. So follow the rules and beware. Or keep that shit to yourself, you flamming faggot!
9. If your name is Steven, Neil, Dallas, Gavin, Frank, Brett, Bruce, Craig, John, Andrew, Robert, Laurie/Larry/Lawrence, Aaron, James, Howie, Phil, Ray, Miser, Damian,Terry, Matthew or Luke, then stop living in denial. You’re a dung punching arse bandit from way back and everyone knows it.

People on the Subway

Okay, Here is a list of the people whom I would love to douse with a gallon of my asparagus scented urine:

1. Little old asian ladies who run onto the train before letting other passengers get off and push through everyone in the hopes of getting a precious seat. And when they don’t get one, they pull the “I’m old and fragile” face to try to guilt you into giving up yours. Fuck you lady…I saw you hurdle over the other passengers with the agility of Angelo Taylor. That old, decrepit song and dance isn’t going to work on me.
2. Overweight people that think they can squeeze their fat ass into a seat on a train that wouldn’t fit an anorexic supermodel. Look, I’m a guy, and I’m not one of those assholes that has to aircondition his nutsack by spreading his legs out across three seats, so there is no need for you to huff and puff that you can’t get your fat ass onto the seat next to me. Stop eating so many burgers.
3. People who can’t seem to grasp the technology of the Metro Card vending machines. You don’t need to have a college degree to figure out how to get a card out of these intricate pieces of modern technology. C’mon people…I’m sure you can press a button that will get it to speak in your language if you don’t quite comprehend english, so you have no excuse!!!!
4. Those assholes that position themselves at the doors of the train so they can be the first person off. That’s fine and dandy with me, but, hows about standing aside to let some of us on the train to begin with? You obsessive compulsive fucks…the world isn’t going to come to an end if you aren’t the first one off the fucking train!!!!
5. People who just have to read their newspaper in the morning on a crowded train. I dealt with one of you…I was sick of that paper scraping across my neck every time you turned a page…what did I do? I grabbed the fucking thing and balled it up. You know who you are.
6. People that have to preach the word of god on the train in the morning. C’mon people. First of all…religion belongs in a church or synagogue (or whatever religious establishment you belong to). Don’t subject the rest of us to your beliefs, and stop tying everything in to terrorism and 9/11. Why does religious bullshit have to coincide with 9/11? I just don’t get it. And is it a coincidence that all of these subway preachers are christian?
7. It’s been mentioned before, but people that bring their stinky food on the train. Usually this occurs in the morning. Listen asshole…it’s disgusting. I view eating food on the train as being in the same ballpark as eating food in a public restroom. How is this for a solution? Wake your lazy ass up one half hour earlier and eat your nasty food in the privacy of your home.
8. While we are on this kick…women who do their makeup on the train. Unless you are homeless, or are a ho freshening up from a long nights work…there is no excuse for you to make the packed subway train your little vanity room. Every time a woman does that, I pray that the train will stop short, forcing them to jab their liner pencils into their eye.

A Slut’s Perspective

I’m speaking as a slut. So before someone goes, “Hey, you’re a slut!” Um, yeah, I know. Get over it. Anyway, I’d like to put an end to some incorrect rumors.

Myth: Sluts have no respect for themselves.
Fact: I have plenty of respect for myself. I have sex with multiple partners because I enjoy sex, and I don’t like being tied down to one guy for too long. I enjoy my freedom. I’m sure this will change at some point. My biological clock will start ticking, and I’ll start thinking more about the future. At some point, I will start thinking more seriously about wanting to spend my life with someone. But for now, I’m young and enjoying myself. And I’d have to say that I have a lot more respect for myself than the girls who stay chaste simply because they’re afraid of being labeled by men. I have enough respect for myself to accept and embrace my needs.

Myth: All sluts are crawling with disease.
Fact: While many sluts probably are crawling with disease, those of us with any intelligence whatsoever are really careful. I have NO STDs. I always use a condom for sex and blow jobs, and I always use a dental dam when a guy’s going down on me. I’m also on the pill. I get tested often, and I can safely say that I have never contracted an STD.

Myth: A slut will fuck anyone. Especially you.
Fact: I can get just about any guy I want. That means that I can and do have high standards. If I fucked every guy who wanted me, I’d have no time for work, school, eating, or sleep. Even if I had sex 24 hours a day, seven days a week, I still wouldn’t be able to fulfill all the guys who want me. So, as you can see, I won’t fuck you just because you have a penis. My standards are too high for that.

Myth: Anyone who doesn’t want to be a woman from the 50′s who gets off doing laundry and making dinner and being a slave for her big strong husband hates men and is a lesbian.
Fact: Obviously I don’t hate men. If I hated men, I wouldn’t fuck them. The last time I checked, slavery was abolished in 1865 with the 13th Amendment. While many women are content to spend their lives cooking and cleaning, I’m not. That doesn’t mean that I don’t respect these women for being able to live in their lifestyle, and I certainly don’t think less of them for it, it’s not the lifestyle I would choose for myself, or one I could tolerate. And I will NEVER get myself into a relationship where the man is in charge and I’m just along for the ride. Nor will I get myself into a relationship where my man has no balls and smiles meekly at everything I say. When I find the man who I can settle down with, we will have an equal relationship. I don’t want a tyrant or a push-over. I want a man.

Myth: Any woman who wants a man to treat her like a woman instead of like shit is a needy bitch who is just after the man’s money.
Fact: How would you feel if your date showed up with dirty, baggy clothes on, smelled from not having showered for too long, ate with her hands, and talked about herself the entire night? You probably wouldn’t want to go on a second date. We put in effort to look our best on dates. We put in effort to make the guy feel special. In return, we expect to be treated decently. Trust me, if you act like a gentleman, your chance of getting that second date increases exponentially. It’s not that we’re needy, it’s just that we like to feel appreciated, just like everyone else.

Myth: Sluts are just trying to steal my man.
Fact: I am not a homewrecker. I think it’s horrible when girls go out of their way to get a guy just because he’s married. I mentioned earlier that I could get just about any guy I wanted. I don’t want any man who has a significant other. I’m just not interested.

Myth: Women are all whores, men are all bastards.
Fact: There are plenty of non-whores out there for you non-bastards.

Myth: No man will ever want a serious relationship with me or any other slut.
Fact: I have been in serious relationships before. What I realized was that I wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. There are men now who want a relationship with me, but I’m honest with them and tell them that a serious commitment is not what I want at this time in my life.

Myth: Deep down, every lesbian wants dick.
Fact: Deep down, every lesbian wants pussy. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be lesbian. That’s sort of the definition of a lesbian; wanting to fuck women instead of guys. If she wants dick, then she’s bi; not lesbian.

Myth: ALL women want to see naked women.
Fact: Maybe in your fantasies, all women love hanging out naked, but in reality, I’d rather not. No offense to other women. I’m sure you have great bodies, but I’m just not really interested. Thanks all the same.

Male & Female Language (translations)

Women to Man translation:

• Yes = No
• No = Yes
• Maybe = No
• We need = I want
• I’m sorry = You’ll be sorry
• We need to talk = I need to complain
• Sure…go ahead = I don’t want you to
• Is my butt fat? = Tell me I’m beautiful
• Do what you want = You’ll pay for this later
• I’m not upset = Of course I’m upset, you moron!
• Are you listening to me?? = Too late, you’re dead
• You have to learn to communicate = Just agree with me
• Be romantic, turn out the lights = I have flabby thighs
• You’re so.. manly = You need a shave and you sweat a lot
• Do you love me? = I’m going to ask for something expensive
• It’s your decision = The correct decision should be obvious by now
• You’re certainly attentive tonight = Is sex all you ever think about??
• I’ll be ready in a minute = Kick off your shoes and find a good game on TV
• How much do you love me? = I did something today that you’re really not going to like

Man to Woman transaltion:

• I’m hungry = I’m hungry
• I’m sleepy = I’m sleepy
• I’m tired = I’m tired
• Nice dress = Nice cleavage!
• I love you = Let’s have sex now
• I’m bored = Do you want to have sex?
• What’s wrong = I guess sex tonight is out of the question
• I love you, too = Okay, I said it…we’d better have sex now!
• May I have this dance? = I’d eventually like to have sex with you
• Can I call you sometime? = I’d eventually like to have sex with you
• Do you want to go to a movie? = I’d eventually like to have sex with you
• Can I take you out to dinner? = I’d eventually like to have sex with you
• Will you marry me? = I want to make it illegal for you to have sex with other guys
• You look tense, let me give you a massage = I want to have sex with you in the next ten minutes
• Let’s talk = I am trying to impress you by showing that I am a deep person and maybe then you’d like to have sex with me
• I don’t think those shoes go with that outfit = I am gay

Men are happier than Women

1. We keep our last name.
2. The garage is all ours.
3. Wedding plans take care of themselves.
4. Chocolate is just another snack.
5. We can be president.
6. We can wear a white T-shirt to a water park.
7. Car mechanics tell us the truth.
8. The world is our urinal.
9. We never have to drive to another gas station because this one’s just too icky.
10. Same work, more pay.
11. Wrinkles add character.
12. Wedding dress – $5000; tux rental – $100.
13. People never stare at our chest when we’re talking to them.
14. The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected.
15. New shoes don’t cut, blister, or mangle our feet.
16. One mood, ALL the time.
17. Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat.
18. We know stuff about tanks.
19. A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase.
20. We can open all our own jars.
21. We get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.
22. If someone forgets to invite us, he or she can still be our friend.
23. Our underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack.
24. Everything on our face stays its original color.
25. Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.
26. We don’t have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
27. We almost never have strap problems in public.
28. We are unable to see wrinkles in our clothes.
29. The same hair style lasts for years, maybe decades.
30. We don’t have to shave below our neck.
31. Our belly usually hides our big hips.
32. One wallet and one pair of shoes, one color, all seasons.
33. We can “do” our nails with a pocket-knife.
34. We have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.
35. We can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives, on December 24, in 45 minutes.

Is my dog gay?

I really like to have my ass licked, but my girlfriend refuses to do it. So, when I am alone with my dog, I smear peanut butter all over my ass and let my dog lick away. He really seems to enjoy it. A little too much. I am worried about him. I think he might be gay.

Next Page »