Your Dog Hates You

Halloween is full upon us. Costumes are out at all the inconvenience stores (everything is up on a really high shelf just out of reach), pumpkins are at gas stations, candy is on sale for the oncoming urchin horde. Kids, don't take candy from strangers. Unless you're in a costume, then it's okay.

But if you're thinking about doing this to your dog, you need to be smacked.

Your dog doesn't want to dress up like Princess Leia and all the other dogs are going to make fun of him. Even if it is the only day your dog can dress like a whore and get away with it.

I don't care how cute you think it is, it's just wrong. He won't even be able to look the other dogs in the eye as they sniff his butt. And no one wants a dog with low self esteem.

Searching in All the Wrong Places

Someone I know has renounced the seduction that is Site Meter. I, however, have an addiction that needs no cure. If loving Site Meter is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Without SiteMeter, how would I know that I'm first in this, the best search ever?

Carey Lowell's hair

Now, I don't know who is looking for this type of very important interweb information. But that some poor bastard was looking for info on Carey Lowell's hair and instead found my stupid post makes me very, very happy.

No, he didn't leave a comment. Sniff. But I know it was Richard Gere.

Unfortunately, I'm way down the list in this search:

how to fondle breasts

At least I've got something to work for. But if you're using the interweb to figure out how to fondle breasts, you've probably got some learning to do. Try kissing a girl first, Trekkie.

And no, all my posts aren't about boobies. It just seems that way sometimes.

On Internet Dating

#8 On Internet Dating

Someone asked me what I thought about internet dating.

First, I think it’s a misnomer. It’s the interweb, but it’s not dating. It’s typing. There’s a big difference between typing and dating. Though both could give you carpal tunnel syndrome if it's not ergonomically correct. There's a big difference between a pen pal and a partner.

I’ve never actually dated anyone I met over the interweb. I was lucky enough to meet my wife in the Dark Ages when you actually had to talk to people and get them drunk to trick them into liking you. Now you can e-stalk people and think about what you want to say to your prospective mate (or page) via email (or IM). I’m of the opinion that people are a lot bolder in print than they are in real life. And you’re less likely to get slapped or a drink thrown in your face over the web.

Second, I completely understand and advocate the use of the interweb to meet the right person. The trouble is the people. Because I embrace (and love) technology, using a database to find someone with common interests makes perfect sense to me.

When I was in college, I had a major crush on a girl whom I only knew from afar. Then we had a “Screw Your Roommate” dinner on our dorm floor. Luckily Screw Your Roommate is not literal since I roomed with an Air Farce ROTC candidate. Instead, you set each other up with blind dates for dinner. Surprisingly, it’s very easy to find a blind date for someone else. You’re not so picky when you’re not going out with someone. But paybacks are hell. Anyway, my roomie set me up with my crush. She turned out to chew gum while we drank wine (classy), be a Socialist, and not be very bright. Now had I known these three swell attributes about whom I longer for from afar, I’d have probably told my roomie to zag. If I'd have had the interweb, I could have opted for someone who liked their gum after their wine not at the same time.

So when when you fill out (and read) those swell profiles on interweb dating sites, you’re probably going to err a bit in your favor. I don’t know anyone who would volunteer that they were dim. They might tell you that they like Ernest movies and Hee Haw. You’ll have to read between the lines and deduce that they’re not too bright.

So you have to be able to know what people really mean when they use adjectives to describe themselves. Here’s the universal translator for men's profiles:

• Weight proportionate to height = fat
• Husky = really fat
• Slim = bulimic
• Slender = skinnier than you
• Skinny = crack addict
• Fun loving = likes to drink
• Spontaneous = like to drink a lot
• Entrepreneur = drop out
• Educated = still paying off student loans 15 years later
• Striking good looks = ugly
• Handsome = egomaniac
• Nurturing = Still lives with Mom
• In touch with his feelings = cries during sex
• Knows How to Treat a Lady = Gay
• Athletic = Likes to watch football all weekend
• Into S&M = Sports & Music (seriously that's what that stands for)

Despite that very helpful list, you need to actually meet someone if you’re ever going to know if you can get along. Before you have an interview with the threat of sex, it's just typing and you're just pen pals.

Pulling an All-Nighter

If there had been more scientific studies like his one, I'd have studied a lot harder:

Educated women have more orgasms

Now I don't know much about keeping kids in school (other than using bigger fences), but it seems like publicizing the results of this study might work.

This was an Australian survey so I don't know if there's been any statistical adjustment for being down under (so to speak). And they used a phone survey with researchers from Sussex University (home of the Crumpet Wagglers) in England and the Universities of Sydney (Foster's Chuggers) and Melbourne (Fightin' Platypi) in Australia.

Now aside from the ancillary benefit of letting researchers ring up unsuspecting folks and subject them to the questions contained in the "Sexual Practices at Last Heterosexual Encounter and Occurrence of Orgasm in a National Survey" survey, there were some interesting findings:

• Men experienced an orgasm during their last sexual encounter 98.4% of the time (that seems low)
• Women experienced an orgasm during their last sexual encounter 68.9% of the time (why didn't they just round up to 69% and have a good snicker)
• 14.2% of respondents experienced an orgasm during the actual survey

Okay, I made that last one up.

It is expected, however, that as a result of the survey, all three schools will have a swelling in their graduate degree programs.

The study also found women were more likely to reach orgasm if they used sex toys or had sex more than twice a week. Well, duh. If you have sex twice a week, you've increased your chance to have an orgasm 100% more than if you had sex just once a week. Despite what you read in Penthouse, there's not a lot of accidental orgasming going on amongst women. That's the fact, Jack regardless of how educated you are. I'm not even going to touch the sex toys, because I don't know where they've been.

I always knew there was a reason I liked smart girls. Now get out there and start studying, ladies.

Lest I Forget

There was a guy wearing a real conductor's hat on the train. But only 33% of the observed workers on the train wore official train wear. The other two (older, more experienced, perhaps wiser and smarter) gentlemen declined to partake in the fabulous hatwear.

For a while, until we had to get on the bus. Then he continued to wear it even though we were on a bus. Isn't there some sort of Conductor Code that prevents you from wearing a hat like that if you're not really on a train.

And a lady asked Conductor Petey (my guess at his name) how late we would be now that we were having to take a bus and drive to all the goofy, out of the way stops that required a bus to drive on windy, single lane roads that a straight train track could have normally reached in half the time.

The Lady said, "When will we get in? I've got a connection at the airport."

His answer, "That depends on when we get to the station."

Slow down, Petey. You're losing me. I guess there's probably a reason you're wearing that hat and punching tickets on the bus.

Godspeed, Petey.

I Think I Can, I Think I Can

Didn't get to post much last week as I was travelling on bidness and was too lame to fight with the 'puter whilst on the road.

Now despite my many travels and travails, I have never taken a train to a destination. Unless you're counting the monorail to the Epcot Center. So I decided I'd save Virtucon the $900 to fly for a two day trip and take a 4 hour train ride instead. I could have driven, but because I wanted a bit of adventure and didn't want to hassle with downtown parking, the Great Train Experiment was launched.

As I had never Amtracked, I was pleasantly surprised. Getting on the train was surprising easy. You grab your bags (and don't even need to show a ticket to get onboard), get your seat and go to it. The seats were surprisingly large--much, much bigger than a plane. And because the typical train traveller isn't that plentiful, everyone who wanted their own row had one. Most folks were sprawled out sleeping for the 7:30 am departure. There were also electrical outlets so you could plug in and do some work or some iPodding and GameBoying.

I had just settled in and was enjoying the new experience when the Great Adventure came to a halt. There had been a derailment up ahead so we had to take a bus the rest of the way. Woo hoo. Yup, you should have driven, dummy.

Now because there were several cars on the train, I had somehow missed the guy who I got seated next to on the bus. And I'm not sure how I missed him in the station because he was definitely someone who was hard to overlook. His attire consisted of:

• black and white zebra-striped Chuck Taylor hi tops (these had to be homemade)
• grey thermal long johns
• brown leather shorts
• black and white plaid flannel shirt
• black hooded sweatshirt
• black leather jacket with silver studs on the shoulders
• black fingerless gloves (which obscured just enough of the tops of his knuckles so I couldn't read his tattoo of letter on each finger
• spiked hair (black naturally)
• back of neck tattoo which looked kind of like barbed wire but was supposed to be some sort of symbol
• a wispy hanging beard (not a van dyke but more of a Shaggy on just the chin)
• an even wispier moustache

And he rocked back and forth and bobbed his head. This began before he started listening to his CD player. It continued for the remainder of the trip.

I was a little disappointed that Spike (I so named him) never talked to me. Sure I wasn't dressed like Sid Vicious, but I'm a rebel at heart. It's not like I was wearing a suit and tie. And I know that he'd have somehow worked "Rock and Roll" into something he said. And I would have responded with "Smooth Jazz." Bless you, Greg Warren.

The train ride home was uneventful. Thank you sweet baby jebus for taking pity on me after two days of business meetings and my having to pretend to be responsible, normal and not evil.

Except for that time I freaked the couple on the elevator out. They were staying on the 14th floor and I told them it was really the 13th floor but they just skipped a number to trick people. That was just evil light.

I will now return to my appointed toil and try not to focus on either the Tigers quest for the World Series, the Lions first win or the Spartans descent into hellishness.

Happy Monday.

On Fearlessness

# 7 On Being Fearless (or at least confident)

Dating is just an interview with the threat of sex. You’re both on your best behavior. You may have a discrepancy or two on the old resume. While there’s a fine line between outright prevarication and slight exaggeration, do try to work that casual reference to the Nobel Committee into conversation. You didn’t actually say you won the prize, you just mentioned the Committee. See the distinction?

But you’ve got an opening to fill. Depending upon how you’ve advertised your position, you may have lots of applicants. Or you may have a more specialized niche which needs a highly qualified candidate. Some women just want a man. Others was a post-graduate degreed, Italian-speaking, non-sports watching man who likes to give foot massages. Obviously, these are two very different types of applicants. You should be working your network of contacts. Nothing is better than a great referral. This is why people pay good money for headhunters. They help weed out a lot of unqualified applicants.

Now think about the last time you interviewed someone. Yes, your last interview, not your last date. We all remember how that went. If you didn’t get to do the interviewing, think about the interviewer. That’s the mindset we want. The interviewer wasn’t nervous at all was she? That’s because she’s in charge, Marge. Have you ever seen a nervous interviewer? Doesn’t happen. That’s because it can’t happen. You're in charge. Be fearless. You've got to go from being that shy nun to that super-efficient governess to whip those kids into shape.

That’s the same attitude you’ve got to have in dating. You’ve got to separate the good candidates from the bad ones. You’re the owner, operator and CEO of this little company we call MeDate Industries, LLC. You’ve got a fiduciary responsibility to your heart to get the best man to put on this job. There are lots of people who want this opening. It’s your job to sort them out. You can’t be shy or hesitant. Don't know what to say? Start with "Hi." It's that easy with us men. We don't care about what you said, we're just happy you're talking to us at all.

Look them in the eye, size them up. Are they shifty or nervous? That’s a possible felon. Sketchy about their background? Possible jail time. Long gaps in memory? Drug use or blackout drinker. This is the time to go digging for some dirt while you can still get the straight scoop. Once they’re hired, they’re much tougher to fire.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? What’s your biggest flaw? How do you deal with a conflict? What do you bring to this organization that’s different from all the other candidates? All those bullshit questions that everyone better have a prepared answer for. Why are you looking to date someone right now? There better be a good answer there.

Unfortunately, you can’t just go down your checklist, make your notes and then say, "Okay, we’ll get back to you if we’re interested. This process takes a couple of weeks." You’ve got to be sly about it and ask questions in passing instead of making it look like an interrogation.

You’re the one making this decision. You’ve got to project an air of confidence. If they think the company is going down the pipes, they may not want to sign on for this task. And unfortunately, you’re never going to get the really candid answers you want to your questions.

You’re going to have to do a lot of behavioral observation here. There’s a great scene in The Rachel Papers where Dexter Fletcher finally gets to see what Ione Skye is really like. And everyone is like that. Everyone’s got some annoying habit that may drive you up the wall. It may be tunelessly singing or dropping makeup removal cotton balls on the floor instead of the garbage can which is RIGHT THERE DAMMIT or pathological lying. The trouble is no one will volunteer this information. You’re going to have to divine it. You don’t have time for anything less than being confident if you're going to figure this all out.

Trust me, you’re in control. Take careful mental notes. Watch what they do, not what they say. Thank him for his time and tell him you'll let him know in a few weeks if you're interested. There are lots of candidates out there. Start sorting them out. You're in charge so you'd better act like it.

(Editor's note: Sorry about the lack of images. Blogger is being cranky with my graphical enhancements today.)

On Rebounding

#6 On Rebounding

Chances are if you’ve ever dated for a while, you’ve also not dated for a while. And this break in the action (so to speak) may be the result of someone telling you they don’t want to date you anymore. If you’re one of the lucky ones who have never been on the receiving end of this emotional roundhouse kick to the kidneys, count yourself blessed. If, on the other hand, you’re like the majority of the population and have received your walking papers and been placed on the love market, you know how painful it can be.

You’ve got to put it behind you and say screw them. If he can’t see what a catch I am, it’s his loss. There are plenty of fish in the sea and I deserve better than a minnow anyway.

Some people choose to look at involuntary free agency as a bad thing. This is not our approach. We are going to look at your new single status as freeing and uplifting. Now is the time you get to do whatever you want. You’re out of committee. You don’t have to negotiate with anyone prior to taking action. This is only a phase so don’t go nuts. You’re free, not a hermit. Your newfound freedom will eventually pass, but do what you want for now. It’s time to be a little selfish for you.

First take your ex’s number out of your cell. You don’t want to be tempted into a drink and dial situation. And you’re definitely going to be doing some drinking.

You should also be prepared to do any and all of the following:

• Order what you want on your pizza (and do not get what you always used to get aka the compromise pizza)


• Watch all those Gilmour Girls episodes that are on your TIVO


• Go see the chick flick (instead of Jackass 2 that he would have dragged you to)


• Enjoy seeing the toilet seat down all the time


• Sleep in the middle of the bed


• Sit in the good chair


• Eat the last dim sum


• Get a massage (with any luck from a hot guy and not that bulky, scary German lady)


• Talk about your feelings whenever you want


• Finally have a threesome and make sure he knows he wasn’t in it


• Watch any made for tv movie on Lifetime or Oxygen (extra points for anything with Meredith Baxter Birney)


• Find someone who looks just like him and have a little hate hump. Don’t ever call that doppleganger back.


• Go out with his boss. Or brother. Or best friend. Depending upon your level of spite perhaps all three maybe even at the same time. Then dump them. It’s not fair, but it’s effective.

The first guy you meet after this time will be like the Fortinbras to your past Hamlet. Do not fall into this trap. You’re rebounding. You’re just happy to be back in the game. This man won’t be your density, McFly. But it will be the chance to get your sea legs, realize you’re still a hot property on the Monopoly Love Market, pass go and collect $200.

Now you’re ready for further punishment. Get out there and start dating again.

Editor's Note: This is a reprise (okay, rerun) of something I did long ago. This new version would have been better, but my publicist thought I took an overdose of sleeping pills.

Have a Great Summer

If you were lucky enough to go to Wayne High School (home of the Warriors) in Huber Heights, Ohio, I hope you finally got your yearbook.

That's because Jeanne Sterling, the Teacher Advisor for the yearbook, did a little grading of her own. Isn't the Yearbook Advisor always one of the cool teachers?

Unfortunately for the administration, Jeanne was retiring after 35 years of service. And she wasn't pulling any punches when she took the opportunity to give some not so swell grades.

Students in general got a "C" grade for students because of their unwillingness to pay attention and lack of effort. D students everywhere celebrated by skipping school that day.

Huber Heights School Superintendent Bill Kirby and his ability to run a school district got the Big F. I guess we'll be seeing you during the summer, Mr. Kirby. Stay out of trouble this summer, you slacker. The Warriors are watching you.

Now I'm not one of those obsessed people who still bear a grudge against everyone who ever slighted them in high school. In fact, I'm one of the "whereabouts unknown" at my old school according to the one person I still talk to now and then.

But how cool would it have been to put all the nasty stuff you'd ever been thinking about in the yearbook instead of "You're too cool 4 school. Call me. See you at the Carousel of Miami Valley Beauty College in the Fall." (Seriously, that's the closest institution of higher learning in Huber Heights).

What would you have put in your year book if you thought you could get away with it?

I might have gone with: Later, losers. I'm blowing this pop stand, travelling the world and expanding my mind beyond the realm of the small minded and ill informed. Enjoy getting pregnant too soon, married too young, and divorced too late.

Anyone have a good sign off for high school?

I'll Be The Judge of That

In Helsinki, Finland Judge Hesse Hakki ruled that charging someone $25,500 euros (that's about $32,000) to fondle breasts was excessive. In the Judge's defense, the fondler was a demented 74 year old man. But it did occur upon 10 separate ocassions. That's only about $1600 a breast then.

Now I find this amazing. First, apparently it's okay to charge people to fondle your breasts in Finland. Having never been to Finland, I don't know what goes on there. But it would seem that the Finland Tourism Council is missing a real opportunity to market here. This really ought to help their tourism.

Second, I love that the Judge ruled "Based on general life experience alone, it is indisputably clear that a 25,500 euro charge is disproportionate to the compensation in question."

How does Judge Hakki know that being charged $3200 to fondle someone's breasts is excessive unless he's gotten a better deal in the past? "Indisputably clear" means you can't even argue with that ruling. Unfortunately the Hackmaster doesn't tell us what he thinks is fair to pay to fondle some breasts. I've never paid to fondle breasts, but what does dinner and a movie count as?

Maybe fondling an outstanding pair of breasts is worth more than $3200? Would someone pay more to fondle Scarlett Johansson's breasts than Betty White's? I think we'd all agree that there's some qualitative qualifications here. There's nothing in the ruling to indicate whether the fondlee was of some exceptional quality as to be worth more compensation or not. That the woman has her man pimping her out for fondling sessions seems to indicate not.

And if Scarlett Johansson was in a Cleavacious? Forget about it. Those girls would have to be in the locked and upright position at all times. With Scarlett Johansson in a Cleavacious, I'll bet we could conquer Fundamentalist Islamic Hatemongering in our lifetime. Before anyone would be allowed on a plane they'd have to look at Ms. Johansson in a Cleavacious. That would sort things out. And we'd be able to keep our contact lens solution in our carry on bag too.

But I digress...

How much is fair to pay to fondle breasts? Heck in N'awlins you get a free look just for cheap plastic beads. Maybe we could do like a breasticle Ebay where people could bid on how much they'd pay for fondling privileges. We could call it eBoob. This would make John Maynard Keynes proud. It would be the free market at work. You'd finally know what people would pay to fondle. And you didn't really think I'd go with a pix of Keynes when I could work in Scarlett Johansson did you?

It's really an age old question. So how much should people pay for fondling?

Finally a Knockout Movie

German film director Uwe Boll finally got in a few punches of his own. You may know Boll as the director of movies typically adapted from video games. He's done classics such as House of Dead, Alone in the Dark and Bloodrayne. Yeah, they were all stinkers and critically planned. Hard to believe. I'll confess to having seen none of those movies and don't remember the video games either.

Well Raging Boll (yes I stole that but it was just too good) challenged his critics. He fought four of them in Vancouver. And Uwe kicked their collective asses. Uwe beat up Richard Kyanka, Jeff Sneider, Chris Alexander and Nelson Chance Mintner. Yes, there is video of this over at Youtube. What did we do before the interweb? I have not watched any of these so don't know if it's too gross or what.

Now I don't know any movie critics other than Richard Roeper, Gene Shalit and Roger Ebert. And none of these gentlemen seem to me likely to excel at the sweet science. So whether or not Uwe knew anything about fisticuffs, his adversaries didn't seem likely to be stout warriors in the ring.

Quote of the story from critic Sneider:

"Then he started beating the crap out of my head," he said. "I think he's a jerk. This might be PR but I don't want to keep getting punched in the head."

This whole challenge misses the point. The critics shouldn't have been the ones fighting Uwe. It should have been anyone in the audience unfortunate enough to see any of his movies. Beating up the critics is like picking on the little brother of the girl who won't date you. I'm sure there is a large gentleman who likes the horror genre who was disappointed in Uwe's zombie movie. And I'd like to give this gentleman the opportunity to show his displeasure with the director.

If we do go this route and allow artists to engage in fisticuffs with their detractors, you know Clint Eastwood is never going to get a bad review. I don't care if he is 76, no one will want to mess with him.

And you know once we're allowed to punch directors, actors will be next. You'd better watch your back, Steve Guttenberg for a little something I call Police Academy Hell.

Any directors or actors you'd like to punch?