Food- There is a fine line between a foodie and feeder. You don’t need to have some twisted sexual fetish involving obese women or have to know why the chef at Alummete chose to open his own food truck after 10 years, but take some interest in food. Take her out to try new restaurants, or if you’re poor, learn how to cook something besides pasta with sauce. Girls love to eat, but don’t ever want to feel gluttonous. Go ahead and be a fatty with them once and a while. Now that’s a recipe for her heart!

Sex- Don’t be terrible. You don’t have to be Ray J from the Kim K sex tapes, but generally speaking just have confidence. No jack hammering, no incessant questioning, “Do you like this?” and always keep her pleasure in mind. Here is a simple rubric.

Man cums first + Goes to Bed= Bad/Girl Talks lots of Shit
Man cums first + Works hard to make girl cum = OK-Good
Woman cums first + Man Does Not = Never Happened/Hearsay
Woman cums first + Man cums After = Great
Woman + Man Cum @ same time = Twinsies!

Smile- Girls love this shit. A nice smile is better than any pick up line out there. Don’t have a creepy smile. Smile in the mirror to make sure you aren’t a creep or have too much aggressive glint in your eyes. Smile! Unless you are a brooding musician who hides his pain well, Smile! ☺

Grammar- Apparently all women are TEFL certified and sticklers for proper usage. They will abbrieve and emogi all day long, but god help you if you don’t know the difference between its and it’s or there, their, and they’re. I bet you didn’t know apostrophes were deal breakers, well they are. If you are confused, head down to your local community college and enroll in Grammar 101, and you will be capturing there hearts….they’re hearts? Ther….fuck.

Travel- Who’s the hottest woman with a passport you know? Nope, not your Mom, it’s Carmen San Diego. Women love the idea and fantasy of travel. You don’t have to drop 2 g’s on a trip to Paris, but head at least 2 hours out of town and you’ll be eat, pray, loving all night long!

There are 3 stages a straight man experiences at a gay dance club.  Awe, denial and acceptance.  Along with handsy Asians, there were sweaty go-go dancers, neon cocktails, dudes making out, really hot girls holding hands and a bakery!?  The only words I could muster the first hour were whiskey and ginger.  I wandered the big gay expanse, my glass clutched tight to my chest; taking measured sips ready to hand check the next fun boy who got too fresh.  This was denial.  Petty thoughts began to creep in.  Everyone in here thinks I’m gay don’t they?  They think I like to kiss dudes!?  But who cares right?  I am tolerant and accepting!  I am from Berkeley!!…Oh god is that go-go dancer swinging his dick in concentric circles?!

It was around this time I had a moment of clarity, or my 4^th whiskey, whatever.  These guys were having the time of their lives.  There was no pretension, very few games from what I could see and nothing shrouded in mystery.  This was hollering in its purest form, unadulterated and to the point.  Guy thinks guy is hot, makes the approach, grind and drink, make out, maybe share a bear claw, and then go home together.  Respect.  Gay bar etiquette is far more evolved than straight bar game could ever hope to be.

After a few more whiskeys and a peanut butter cookie (seriously what the hell is going on here? this place is delightful) I accepted my surroundings.  I spent the last hour trying to convince a cute girl from Bahrain I wasn’t gay.  It was an uphill battle, as she pointed out I was wearing a v-neck and had blonde hair, apparently criteria for being a homosexual I was unaware of.  I finally told her I would have sex with her in the bathroom as proof, or in the back of the bakery if she preferred, but she declined and we didn’t speak again. 

I left The Abbey proud.  It was amazing to see so many happy people leaving one place.  I wish all bigots and politicians could spend an evening at The Abbey and experience a similar range of emotions that I did.  If only everybody could have the unwavering tolerance and progressive thinking that I….oh my god all these guys are going home to have sex with each other aren’t they?!  Well, at least someone is getting laid.  Acceptance.

Ok Cupid Profile Pic

After the 50th text off to nowhere and first date that does nothing for your mind or boner, I often put on DJ Quick’s “Hand and Hand” to try and inspire myself and gain some clarity. While Quick was probably not referring to his own online dating failures in the song, it serves as a reminder that while sex, romance and companionship are all worthy pursuits, they often come more naturally while pursuing other things. Power corrupts, and money is the root of all evil, but bitches love that shit, and plus, the song wouldn’t be nearly as good with a hook like, “First you nurture your career, then you handle your finances, then you put the penis in vagina! Don’t be foolish young man!”

1000 bucks for a weekend of pelvic thrusts

While I can’t afford a moped or even a birdhouse, E-40’s slangy down-bay twang resonates. He is a man of priorities and is offering sound fiduciary advice. As most of us are not ambassadors to the Bay, balliticians or iconic rappers, let’s make the scenario more millennial appropriate. “Sometimes it’s cool to floss, but don’t buy tickets to Coachella before you pay rent!”

She digs it

This is a song about a guy getting an erection while dancing with a girl. The guy claims that if they continue dancing that way, he will be compelled to have sex with her right there on the dance floor. Wow. I wasn’t cool enough to have sex in public with girls at 13, but I was popping boners seemingly to every song I danced to. Between school dances, birthday parties and bar mitzvahs I estimate over 3000 boners popped during 7th grade, and I was embarrassed about it until Next taught me that is was OK. It is OK to get an erection while dancing and if the girl doesn’t like it, then she’s neither public sex nor take home to mom material.

Almost there buddy!

Why hello scary lady.

This is a frightening combination that usually indicates advanced stages of crazy. While seemingly harmless, blue eye shadow turns a perfectly cute treat into a maniacal nightmare. If you aren’t in Cirque de soleil, auditioning for Requiem for a Dream 2: Ass 2 Ass Again, or contemplating joining the Blue Woman group but are scared to go full blue, then please stop. Also, if a girl you are interested in only has guy friends, you will drive yourself crazy thinking about why that is the case. Classic conversation:
“ Mike and I had so much fun at the museum yesterday.”
“ Who’s Mike?”
“ I’ve told you about Mike. He’s my friend.”
“ You know Mike wants to fuck you right? He wants to fuck you in that museum.”
“No…we’re just friends.”
“Stoops.”

Brutes

The severity of this predicament depends on the dryness of your mouth, thumpiness of your head, and foulness of your breath, but an empty Brita can ruin your already shitty day. There isn’t a time you appreciate water more as life source than when you wake up after drinking heavily and tasting whatever taco truck hot mess you put in your mouth the night before.

Wrap it up!

One of the most overlooked keys to a quality burrito. I can’t tell you how many times (7 times) I’ve taken a few bites of a potentially tasty burrito, only to have it bottom out or spring a leak. What am I to do now Burrito man!? Huh? Just soak myself in carnitas juice while children laugh and point?! Like a drunken white guy once said in a terribly racist accent, “No es burrito sin crema.” SO true brah.

Tough decisions

Having to poop at a bar is one of the most uncomfortable feelings one can have. You get flush, wonder if you can muster the focus and abdominal strength to cork it or if it’s too little too late. Then, if you choose to make the bold move, you are at the mercy of bar bathroom maintenance, which can range from sticky floor, no lock on door and no toilet paper to no door at all and questionable substance on toilet seat. Do you hover above trying not to let your pants hit the gross floor, while at the same time being mindful of distance from toilet water to avoid splash back? (A.K.A. The unintentional bidet).

Sweet tote girl.

Grocery shopping is a hassle everywhere, but there is an added element of chaos at TJ’s with the swarm of workers rolling around dollies, re-stocking goods and flying about with reckless abandon. Aisles can be tight, Jalapeno cheddar sticks can be out of stock and tote bags can be forgotten. It’s in these TJ moments I try to remain calm and distract myself by observing the shopping habits of cute hipsters. I find it therapeutic. If there aren’t any cute girls shopping, however, I quickly become stressed out and slightly depressed and usually hang out by the free samples until my confidence returns.

Disgustingly narrow streets

I just moved to a small town 58 km north of Paris called Derangier, and let me tell you it is a real mess! This city makes no sense. Firstly, there are no designated paths for horses. These animals and there masters are allowed to gallop in any direction at alarming speeds, often times pushing humble pedestrians to the side forcing them to walk on disagreeable ground. In one instance, a horse grazed my elbow as I strolled, jarring the variety of cheeses and baguettes loose from my grasp. I had to march back to the market…, which I might add is on the outskirts of town! What the fuck is that?! There should be a central marketplace that is easily accessible to all.

Stupid Sycamore Lane

Considering a move to Lille,

Guy DeparGuy

I know. That shit sucks.

Generally speaking, there are three pillars to a good party: Booze, ratios, and music. Sometimes there is nothing you can do about the lack of females, but if the ratios are there and the BL Limes are flowing, there is no reason the party should not be cracking. Oh wait, there is some thinly dressed fellow plugging in his iphone and choosing…Sigur Ros!? And oh wait; he’s followed by an eager nymph who intends to move hips by throwing on some early Lykke Li?! What the hell is wrong with everyone? These people make good music in their own right, but did Dre and Snoop teach us nothing? They made songs that made even the staunchest feminist shake her ass and scream about getting cummed on. We all must realize, especially those whose thumbs are about to push play that there is music for listening and then there is music for sweating profusely, biting your shirt and grinding up on people.

Only you want to dance to rare flute music.

Ziggy Marley once said, “A party which never realizes its full potential due to faulty musical choices was never really a party at all.” Powerful stuff Ziggy. Let’s remember these wise words and be mindful of each other’s good time.

Wise man.

1) Drink PBR- I don’t know if you guys heard, but we are all headed toward a fiscal cliff. A fiscal cliff! Our economy resembles Pacquiao after his latest fight and jobs are harder to come by than ever. Ask Alex Smith. Whoa! Now that’s some topical stuff. PBR is routinely the cheapest drink at any bar and surprisingly doesn’t taste like piss. All those flannel shirt assholes drinking PBR aren’t hipsters, they’re economists.

2) Riding Fixed Gear Bicycles- I hated on this once upon a time. “Look at those idiots rocking back and forth at the stoplight.” Then I got over the fact that the gears are fixed and realized they have impeccable balance. Think of all the money they save on gas that goes straight to their PBR fund. Not only are they thrifty, but also they are environmentally friendly. Bicycling is great exercise and lessons carbon footprints or whatever. Did your parents never teach you how to ride a bike? Do you hate Al Gore and Earth? Then shut up.

3) Fashion Sense- While I can’t endorse those super skinny jeans that are like vice grips for your junk, I generally respect and have even adopted various “hipster” stylings. Some people look like idiots, and if they do then it’s more than appropriate to make fun of them, but at least give them credit for being bold and progressive. I’ve met plenty of pretentious assholes in a button-up and jeans. While I do wish some girls wouldn’t dress like part-time archeologists, I applaud quirkiness in all its forms.

P.S. Please limit your archeologist outfits to twice a week. I think that’s fair.

4) Pseudo creativity- I don’t quite know how to address this issue. We’ve all heard shitty bands, been to stale art gallery openings and seen depressingly bad open mic comedy. The subjective nature of whether something is good or bad is always up for debate, but the creation of that art, in any form, is important and irrefutable. We lose so much of our creative juice as we age that we sometimes forget how the process works. It is necessary for all of us to engage in creative pursuits as often as we can to remind ourselves that we are still capable of great things. So just because you didn’t like “insert ridiculous indie band name here” last album, doesn’t mean they didn’t have the time of their life making it. Ok, I’ll put down the whiskey and stop getting so senti.

1,2 and ya don’t stop…literally.

I want to start a group called The Soundchecks where all we do is dress in skinnies and swooping v’s and check the levels on stage, never actually playing more than a few chords in no particular progression. Most in the audience will detest our existence, but one scruffy shitgoat with an influential blog will coin us the Andy Kaufmanns of the indie music scene making us the hottest shit in Echo Park for a month. We will all date cute, malnourished women with pale skin and ride our iconoclastic status until we are pressured to finally release an actual song, which will be terrible, and eventually our lack of musical talent will force the group to take a break and reassess the merits of law school.

Rumpy Chaplin

- Indiana Jone’s understudy
- Your 5th grade production of Shakespeare’s The Tempest
- Punky Brewster’s foreign cousin, Rumpy Mooster
- Someone who collects recycling for a living
- An evil sustainable farmer
- Charlie Chaplin in less modern clothes
- An extra from a yet to be released indie film, “We’re Fucking Cooler Than You.”

I’ve seen girls wearing shorts that give them wedgies. Some wear things called rompers, which make it look like they have pooped themselves. Other times they wear something on their arm that looks like an androgynous skeletor…oops, that’s your boyfriend? My bad.

How dare you small girl!

Dear Lord.

I guess the bus is optional as well.

Pretty much the same thing

I have 25 years of business experience.

If you are a big group, you can assemble yourselves as Mitt’s cyborg sons and name yourselves weird things like Tag and Jib…oh wait.

Like this, but sexier.

Yea buddy. It’s brutal.

Doing too much option: Wear and give out inspirational wristbands that read, “Livewrong.”

Have fun and hold onto those cameras and iphones!

Whiff that fresh grain

So there I was, a 27 year old at a potluck that had just been complimented on his quinoa, telling an eager foodie how to prepare the dish. “You see the key is to cook it in vegetable stock.” I laughed out loud after I said that, and she looked confused. If only she was there during College when my go-to dish was the Tuna Nut surprise, otherwise known as whatever the hell was left in the cupboard with olive oil surprise. I have come a long way.

My Recipe: 1 box of quinoa and whip that shit up.