the dream

You think you know but you have no idea. Every Tuesday I will post a helpful fact or piece of quick advice that will prevent you from looking like a jackass.

 

Listen up Randy and Tina, stop watching Real World, put down the Mountain Dew and take a few notes.

It is never okay to chew gum. Have you ever seen someone that makes over fifty grand a year chewing gum? Your boss doesn’t chew gum. Your grandfather doesn’t chew gum. Jesus didn’t chew gum.

Answers to your reasons for chewing gum:

“I like my breath to be fresh after lunch.” -A mint is acceptable after a meal.

“It makes my teeth whiter.” – Brush your teeth to whiten them.

“I have an oral fixation.” –Email me for my phone number.

 

 

And if you don’t know, now you know.

You think you know but you have no idea. Every Tuesday I will post a helpful fact or piece of quick advice that will prevent you from looking like a jackass.

Guys, this one is for you. When on a date it’s important that you know how to order. First, find the cheapest item on the menu. Then immediately cross it off your list of possibilities. Second, even if you don’t want one, order an appetizer.

1. If you are taking someone else out to eat you should be able to afford 2 meals. Not one meal and a grilled cheese.
2. The girl gauges what she orders based on the price of your entree.
3. If you chose the correct girl (with sexy gray teeth and thinning hair), even if she gets a huge meal you know she will soon excuse herself to the restroom.

 

 

Reminder: A “to go” box secures the fact that that is the only box you will be getting that night.

 

And if you don’t know, now you know.

Yeah, I know it’s been a while since I have posted. The good news for you: I have been out and about observing the failures of life.

This particular story stars the craziest of all crazies. I have been very apprehensive about posting this but the time has come. This girl shall remain nameless but here are the facts.

1. She is a 10.
2. She thinks I’m the cat’s pajamas
3. I’m taking my life in my own hands by posting this.

It started as a simple date. Good times, a few drinks (she has a good fake) and some rocky conversation.

Reminder: she is hot; there is no need for her to be smart.

As we struggle through dinner it becomes very apparent that this girl has never worn a pair of Jack Rogers sandals and has never been forced to listen to one of her own horrible stories. I’m pretty sure that a gift card from Rave would ensure a life time of blowjobs.

I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

At about 8 PM I arrive at her place. This house is amazing, complete with brass lions at the end of the driveway. Her family must be loaded and bought this house for her to live in.

 Nope, her parents’ house. (Fail Count 1)

 She jumps in the truck , and as we drive uptown, I suggest a few restaurants.

“What are you in the mood for, babe?”

 Before I can finish the question she basically yells, “OUTBACK!” (Fail Count 2) 

Are you fucking kidding me? This is what she picks? This may be a good time to swing by the mall and pick up that Rave gift card. I bite my tongue and head for the Outback. All I can think is that I’m going to run into that poor family that eats out “nice” every Friday.

You know the family. Dad orders a Fosters. Mom gets a glass of Sutter Home. The three kids share a chicken finger basket. I hate that family. Come on, you know the family I’m talking about. Right?

 HA! Trick question. If you know anyone like that chances are you are poor too. I was simply referring to the people I saw on the commercial. Get your poor eyes off my blog.

Back to the story, now that we have gotten rid of the imposters (outlet shoppers).

 We get our food and she immediately puts her gum on the side of her plate. If I could have killed myself right then and there with a dinner roll, I would have. I spend the next hour watching her twirl her hair and talk about “modeling”. As she took her last bite I signal for the check. I pay, we leave. I drop her off.

 End of story right? Not a chance.

 I begin to get random calls from numbers I don’t know asking me why I won’t answer Date’s call. I should have known better than to answer numbers I don’t recognize. No good comes of them. They are either calling about money you owe or to tell you that you are a father (which leads to money you owe).

 Fast forward seven months. I get a note from my ex-girlfriend’s sister. Not weird, we are great friends. My date has just “friended” my ex on Facebook and started commenting on her pictures. One week later I get another note with a screen shot. My date is now following my ex on Twitter.

 I think I may be dealing with Swim Fan here. I lock my doors. I warn the girls I am friends with. This girl may want to wear my ass as a hat.

 I have learned something from this situation though. Perhaps you could say I have grown up a little. From now on, I’m talking every time, when meet a girl in a high school parking lot, I’m giving her a fake name until I know she hasn’t spent time in a mental hospital.

You think you know but you have no idea. Every Tuesday I will post a helpful fact or piece of quick advice that will prevent you from looking like a jackass.

When visiting the residence of a friend or acquaintance, it is important to know that the custom cabinetry is a sign of affluence. To avoid looking like a poor, here is a tip:

The door that houses the trash receptacle always has the knob located in the center of the lower drawer. Knowing this will avoid the embarrassment of asking where you should dispose of your change upon returning from the bars.

And if you don’t know, now you know.

It was a great wedding. Small, but plenty of single girls. Mostly 7’s with a sprinkling of 8’s and 9’s (I never just give out the 10, at least never before 2AM). The reception was wine and beer. This could be a problem for an amateur but don’t worry about me.
 
I’m a +1. As a matter of fact I’m a damn good +1.
 
1. I show well.
2. I flirt with the moms.
3. I know the article your dad is referring to in The Journal.
 
With this said, I lead the charge of wine shots. Who cares what the bitchy aunt thinks . Mom is already telling everyone, “He is just the sweetest guy” and grandma is giving me “fuck me” eyes.
 
Fast forward 3 hours.
 
The Cast: Bre, Lindsay, Jessica, Brittney, Ali, Mallory and lil’ ole’ me.
 
The Scene: Home Town Bar.
 
We walk in and heads turn. I’m in a suit with 3 bridesmaids and 3 other girls that are dressed for a wedding. Win for Patrick.
 
I walk up to the bar and order 7 tequila shots. Let’s get this night started the right way. We circle up, put our glasses in the middle then boom, down then hatch. I squeeze my lime into my mouth to avoid the the taste of a cheap liquor and sub par cleaning job of  bartender Brandi.
 
 Then it happens. The noise of 6 girls all at one time yelling “Wooooooo!” I laugh it off. No big deal. They are having a great time and one of them will need a sober ride after we get home. That’s right AFTER. High five.
 
We get our beers and settle into our area of the bar. I start talking to the one that made her bridesmaid dress look just a little too slutty to be worn in a church. She has nothing interesting to say and I spend my time laughing when she laughs and asking if she needs another beer.
 
She turns her head for a split second and I jump at the chance to upgrade. I’m too late. The band just fucked me to the tune of “Jessie’s Girl”. No one really likes this song, but sure enough every fucking girl in the group puts her hands up the in the air and does it again, “Wooooooo”.
 
Was this really needed? How crappy is her life that a 20 year old song she hears 4 times a week makes her yell and put her hands in the air? As they dance with each other I make my way to the bar for another tequila shot, make it 2. I’ll need something to get through this. Getting back to the group they ask where I have been and giggling push one of the other girls to talk to me. I feel like I’m in fucking 1st grade.
 
Rule 5: Never commit to a conversation before the cab has been called.
 
It’s a trap. She will want to “talk to you” and “get to know you”. Then you are fucked (only figuratively). “I really like you and had fun talking to you. I don’t want this to be just a hook up”, is the next thing out of her mouth.
 
Back to the story.
 
We continue to drink and dance and it becomes obvious that everything in the world makes this group of girls put their hand in the air, lean their head back and scream. I take 2 more tequila shots by myself (up to 5 now if you are counting). I relax and start to calm down over the continuous siren of yelling.
 
Later that night I learned a life lesson that was well overdue.
 
It is 100% fact that tequila will help you deal with the pain of yelling girls. But tequila does not discriminate. You are forced to go without ANY yelling girls for the next 4-5 hours. And there is no cure for, “Do I not turn you on?”