6 Ways to Her Heart

4 Jun

Disclaimer: I’ve never made my way to a girl’s heart

feederFood- 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!

bad in bedSex- 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!

smileSmile- 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 naziGrammar– 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.

carmen sdTravel– 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!

Dancing at a Gay Bar

14 May

ImageI was born and raised by very smart and tolerant parents.  I grew up in Berkeley, CA, historically one of the most liberal and culturally open-minded cities in the world.  Using the word gay to describe something as stupid was wiped from my lexicon right around the time Jincos went out of style, and in past years I have congratulated and admired the courage of friends and acquaintances who have come out.  If there were gay rights trading cards, my character would have high tolerance, 9 acceptance, 10 respect, and telekinesis, because that’s awesome.  With all this power and pedigree, however, the moment I stepped foot in the Abbey in West Hollywood and an impish Asian man caressed the chest hair protruding from my modest v-neck, I flipped out.

 

ImageThere 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?!

 

ImageIt was around this time I had a moment of clarity, or my 4th 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.

 

ImageAfter 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.

 

Educational Hip-Hop Lyrics

10 Apr

Ok Cupid Profile Pic

Ok Cupid Profile Pic

1. DJ Quick “First you get the power, then you get the money, then you get the pussy, fool don’t be no dummy.”

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

1000 bucks for a weekend of pelvic thrusts

2. E-40 “ Sometimes its cool to floss, but don’t buy an $80,000 car before you buy a house.”

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

She digs it

3. Next “Baby when we’re grinding, I get so excited, oohhh how I like it, I try but I can’t fight 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!

Almost there buddy!

4. Freak Nasty Ho “ I put my hand up on your hip, when I dip you dip we dip…”

If you’ve danced with me, you know I have formidable moves. Girls are often left saying things like, “Wow, what moves.” Psst. I will let you in on a little secret. Step 1. Put your hand up on her hip. Step 2. Dip. Step 3. Hopefully she takes the hint and dips too. Step 4. Simultaneous dipping. Step 5. Dip down low and roll and grind.

Double Negatives

5 Feb

In English grammar, two negatives make a positive. Fortunately, we all know grammar is stupid and that here in real life two negatives just mean two bad things. Here are five double negatives that never aren’t fun…I mean that suck.

Why hello scary lady.

Why hello scary lady.

1. Blue Eye Shadow AND Only Has Guy Friends

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

Brutes

2. Waking Up Hung Over AND Brita Is Empty

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!

Wrap it up!

3. Poorly Wrapped Burrito AND No Sour Cream


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

Tough decisions

4. Having to Take a Poop at a Bar AND Bathroom is Super Foul

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.

Sweet tote girl.

5. Shopping at Trader Joe’s AND No Attractive Girls Are Shopping

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.

18th Century French Urban Planning

30 Jan

Disgustingly narrow streets

Disgustingly narrow streets

While cleaning up my apartment I found a letter dated all the way back to 1756. Using my rudimentary Rosetta Stone French 1 skills and advanced investigation techniques, I surmised that this document was in French. It was addressed to the LCDPU (Le Committee de Planning Urban) in Paris and outlined the very serious flaws of a certain French town in the 18th century. The following is my best attempt to translate the words of an angry French citizen, Guy DeparGuy.

Bonjour,

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

Stupid Sycamore Lane

And why are there so many churches? Listen, I love Jesus as much as the next fearful Christian, but I also love cheap whores and booze. A few more brothels and bars would be nice. Furthermore, why is Sycamore Lane such an eyesore? I thought a beautification process was in the works last year. Can we get a shrub, bushel, bonsai, anything to liven up that god-awful center divide? Don’t even get me started on the roundabout at the end of the street. Do I wait? Do I go? Do I just walk in circles until I get tired? Very confusing stuff. Anyway, I’m sure you are busy enjoying my taxes, but I want to see some changes!

Considering a move to Lille,

Guy DeparGuy

DJ Battles Ruining Parties

10 Jan

I know.  That shit sucks.

I know. That shit sucks.

My freshmen year drug dealer once awkwardly sang, “One good thing about music, when it hits you feel no pain.” Bob Marley and this idiot have clearly never been to a modern day house party where every fuckchuckler with an apple product fancies himself the resident Skrillex.

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.

Only you want to dance to rare flute music.

This message is for real DJ’s too. I have been to one too many warehouse parties and hep shindiggeries where the DJ and their friends are seemingly just trying to entertain one another. “I wonder what will happen if I put on this avant-garde flute record from the 1940’s?” Everyone will hate you. That’s what will happen. I honestly think there needs to be a school for DJ’s. Bartenders usually have to pass a course, why not DJ’s? If 50% of people aren’t dancing on any given night, your suratos are revoked until you learn the basics.

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.

Wise man.

4 Bad Things About Hipsters That Are Actually Good

13 Dec

I have spent a combined 3 years living in the Mission district and Silverlake. While my attire has certainly become more indie-band friendly, hipsters and me haven’t always seen eye to Italian frame with the lens popped out eye. I think they should eat more, and they want me to DJ rare vinyl at the such and such hut. I think they should learn how to play sports, they think I should learn graphic design. They like PBR and I…wait, I like PBR too. The stereotypes are endless, yet so is the amount of crossover. So who is the hipster, and what really makes them so bad? Maybe that damn Christmas spirit has got me all introspective and sympathetic, but I swear to God this is an unironic defense of the most shit on majority/minority of my generation.

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.hipster pbr

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.hipster fixed gear

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.hipster fashion

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.

Thoughts from an Indie Show

31 Oct

1,2 and ya don’t stop…literally.

Sound check– If you aren’t a famous headlining band; keep that shit to a minimum. I watched an unknown group of idiots say, “1, 2” into a microphone while gesturing to some shadowy hipster in the back for over 25 minutes. This is unacceptable. Do you know how much negative anticipation is built? How awesome you have to be to justify 25 minutes of nonsense with waning arch support in my hep shoes? Pretty damn awesome, and they fell short. I was gone after the first song.

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

Weird Chicks– Unlike clubs, bars and parties where women generally choose clothes that accentuate parts of their body, women at concerts around these parts tend to look like… Fill in the whoride.

– 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!

The Ambience – This is of course contingent on the venue, but if I don’t have arch support, a good amount of booze and an exit strategy you better believe there will be some low-key freaking out on my part. One of the worst feelings in life is to be trapped in a crowd where everyone is more fucked up than you. It is intolerable. Every shoulder bump, foot smash, small girl’s aggressive elbow to your back is an affront to your humanity. Even the cute little white Pocahontas’ with their feather headdresses and adorable prancing get on your nerves. Call me square or close-minded, but I can’t just will myself to dance if I have no connection to the music or group. People who freely gangle about to any sequence of chords frighten me. All I ask for is beer under 7 bucks, a few attractive girls who aren’t completely fried and a bus route nearby if case The Soundchecks go on too long.

Last Minute Halloween Costume Ideas

25 Oct

Dear Lord.

Halloween hasn’t been the same since the great big baby debacle of ’06. I dressed in a child’s onesy with a pillow zipped in. You know…cause fat is funny. I then proceeded to drink 90 shots of Jack and attempt the riskiest Halloween night move, the costume change. I thought the crack head, Tyrone Biggums, of Chappelle Show fame would be funnier, so I got a red beanie, put baking soda around my mouth and applied chocolate bar “doo-doo” stains to my backside…you know, cause poop is funny. In true Hallows eve fashion, I frightened many people that night with my aggressive gibberish and gangly attacks on unsuspecting friends and females. I ended up losing my digital camera and just a shred of dignity, but gained a blog post 6 years later so it all evens out. Anyway, here are some last minute costume ideas.

I guess the bus is optional as well.

Rosa Parks– (Dress optional. Black face discouraged) Basically you’re at a party and you wait until someone gets up from their seat and take it. When they return to reclaim their seat, you refuse to give it up and make a big fuss citing inadequate civil liberties. Once the partygoer is properly confused and angry, you let him know who you are. If he gets mad, then he is racist, if he doesn’t, then you get a seat and props for a sweet ‘stume.

Pretty much the same thing

YouTube Commentator– Go around calling people hurtful and racially insensitive names. Try to make as little sense as possible and when flustered or in doubt, make bold political claims in reference to nothing.

I have 25 years of business experience.

Robot Romney– Topical costume alert! Air horn! Dress as a robot with a suit and tie and make wildly vague claims all night. Pretend to malfunction periodically and in a robot voice keep saying, “I can balance a budget” over and over.

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.

Sexy Vending Machine– Didn’t think I would leave the sexy costume out did you? You crazy. This is a gender friendly sweet ensemble with a twist. You simply cut out cardboard in a vending machine shape, mark the appropriate letters and numerals and attach candy to the cardboard. If you are feeling R rated, much like an adult piñata, you can add things like lube, condoms and butt plugs. Is that a natural progression?

Yea buddy. It’s brutal.

Disgraced Lance– There is always a too soon costume. This one might be it. Wear a cyclist’s outfit, short shorts with tight shirt and helmet and TONS of tinfoil medals around your neck. Behave questionably all night and have your friends strip you of all your medals.

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

Have fun and hold onto those cameras and iphones!

The Potluck

2 Oct

Last Friday on the eve of my 27th birthday, I went to a potluck. I don’t frequent the potluck scene, which may be a reflection of how few friends I have in L.A. or a simple reminder that I don’t enjoy sharing food. Normally, I would head to Trader Joe’s, pick up chips and salsa and a bottle of Yellow Tail and call it a day, but something came over me that night. I decided to whip up a Quinoa with basil chicken and peppers. Whip up!? I never say that. Quinwhat!? If you had asked me two years ago what quinoa was, I might have thought you were making fun of Chinese people. A year ago I would have called you a health nut freak, and now here I am whipping up a fresh batch for a potluck dinner. Wild stuff.

Whiff that fresh grain

I nervously entered the apartment with my big ass bowl. Rushing thru the pleasantries, I scanned the counter top for a prime location. I now know what my grandmas and aunts felt like at holiday gatherings when they would subversively move each other’s dishes around vying for the good table real estate. Taking a cue from Aunt Margie, I moved the grossest looking thing to the side and slid my big ass bowl of quinoa into the spotlight. I can’t tell you how nervous I was the rest of the night. People would approach me and want to know where I was from, how I knew the host, what I did for a living, but my attention was fixed on the countertop. “You seem very nice, but unfortunately I made this fresh quinoa and I’m pretty excited about it, so we are going to have to talk later.” I didn’t care if I was labeled the socially inept food freak at the party; I wanted to be a potluck success for once in my life.
The guests started to form a line. Veggies were picked, salads were scooped and so it came time for my dish. I watched, as the saran wrap was unfolded to reveal hours of sweaty, proud kitchen labor. I almost wanted to interject and add a disclaimer like, “Just to let everyone know, this was my first time making quinoa…so…you know” but I decided to let the situation play out organically. The first girl took a bite and exclaimed, “Oh my god, who made the quinoa!?” Hell yea girl. I did. In reality, I hesitantly raised my hand. Was someone at this party going to call me a faggot? She got real close to me and asked how I made it. I tried to play it off, but she insisted I tell her, step for step.

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.