Dude Looks Like a Lady

If you haven't heard, it's the latest news. Chastity Bono is going to have gender re-assignment surgery. Yes, Sonny Bono & Cher's daughter is all growed up.

Now I don't know the exact medical procedure that Chaz will be undergoing for her gender re-assignment. I think it's known as an addadictomy. Hey, think of all the costume changes Mom goes through in a typical performance. This is nothing compared to that.

Named after a movie which flopped in 1069, Chastity is now going by Chaz. According to comic genius Caroline Rhea, that's because she's losing the "tity."

It could have been worse. After all Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid also released in 1969. Imagine the poor girl if they'd have named her Butch. Easy Rider also came out in '69. I'm pretty sure a girl named Easy Rider Bono would have wound up in porn. You can't make this stuff up.

But Chaz? That's the name of some prepster wearing madras shorts and carrying a polo mallet. You just want to punch someone named Chaz right in the neck. So Chaz is going to get a little help from yours truly to come up with some appropriate monikers.

So I humbly submit the following for your consideration:

* Babe (as in Ruth, not Didrickson)

* Dick (really too obvious)

* Share

* Tramp (or even Gypsy)

* Un-Sonny

* Breed (not a Half-breed though)

* Thyme (because she can't be turned back)

* Woody (short for Silkwood)

* Jesse (middle name James of course)

* Unexplainable Gay Fan Base

That's all I got kids. Feel free to play along at home. Hey, you try doing something with Mermaids, Moonstruck or Mask!

I Want to Hold Your Hand

In what is surely one of the best headlines of the year (bless you CNN):

Women germier than men, study finds

Apparently, for some articles the interns get to do the headlines. I mean "germier?" And the needless comma? Couldn't the study just have been the noun. But I guess anytime you can make up a word like germier, you go with it. If you say it like its French, it sounds a little classier. And may actually be a new hair product.

Anyhoo, by taking DNA from the palms of 51 college students, researchers determined that women (at least in this study) have more bacteria on their palms than men. Mmm, I wonder if they found anything other than bacteria on the palms of male college students? Yeah, probably ink.

The average hand has 150 species of bacteria. EVERYBODY PANIC. And put down that Egg McMuffin.

Scientists aren't sure why women have more bacteria on their hands. It may be because male skin is more acidic or some other scientific mumbo jumbo about sweat glands. The end of it is, they don't know. But I do and I'll tell you. I learned it long ago in in third grade.

GIRLS ARE THE SOURCE OF ALL COOTIES EVERYWHERE

This is your only defense.

Now enjoy the weekend, kids. And go wash your hands before supper.

On Costuming

Ladies, you're officially on notice. National Dress Like a Hoor (that's two syllables by the way) Day is only a week away. You may know it as Halloween. You get to dress like a slut and no other girl can say anything about it. That's not just me talking. It's from Mean Girls. And since Tina Fey wrote that and may be our next Vice President, it must be true.

So go nuts.

With the right costume people at work may not even know who you are. One of my friends dressed as a cow and got away with walking up to CEO with a baby cow doll and said, "This is your baby." She had the baby cow doll, not the CEO. Of course he might not have known her even if she hadn't been dressed up as a cow but that's not the point.

You get a free pass. You can completely dress like a slut and no one can penalize you for it. You know that dress you think is just a little too tight. Wear it. Don't even think about propriety. Release your inner stripper.

You don't even have to be creative. Just put "naughty" in front of any profession and you've got a costume. Naughty Nurse, Naughty Accountant, Naughty Actuary. Naughty Researcher. Naughty Medical Billing Assistant. Naughty Nun. It doesn't have to make sense. Just be daring.

Sure you have enough sense not to dress like this any other day of the year. But this isn't any other day of the year. This is the day you get to be a little daring, show off the goods and maybe actually even talk to that cute boy down the hall. Because he's going to be dressed like a woman today. Try not to make too much of the latent homosexuality. You can get him to come around. As far as you know.

Now get working on your costume. And if you're lucky, you'll be able to score a glow in the dark kitty to complete the ensemble.



Kitties, they're the ultimate fashion accessory.

On Settling

Women have very high expectations. Amazingly high expectations. And they frequently compare fantasy to our base reality. Go figure reality comes up a little short.

I still blame Princess Dianna for this. When she got married to Prince Jug Ears and they showed it on tv, every woman in the universe wanted that wedding. The huge bridal train, the ponies, the red carpet. This set the bar just a bit high for reality. Now every woman wants to be a princess. Please try to remember that he ran around on her and she with died in a car crash. Not every fairy tale has a happy ending, kids.

In the US, fewer people are getting married. 22% of men between 35 and 39 with less than 4 years of college have never married. Now some science types are going to tell you it's the economic independence of women or some such crap. Bullshit, women have wised up. They know that other than making red hot monkey love, dealing with vermin and taking out the trash, we men are worthless. If women want something that lies on the couch and drools too much, they can get a dog.

Contrast that with some recently expressed views in the Atlantic that advise women to just settle down. Settle down not as in avoid the histrionics but as in just get married already. They’re not going to meet Prince Freakin’ Charming, but they are going to meet Dave the Accountant who may be slightly annoying but probably will treat you well enough to put up with the rest of your life. Or at least the next 3 to 7 years.

That’s more depressing than living in a Fantasy Land. You can find your soul mate. But it’s not going to be on LoweredExpectations.com. Someone you know has a friend of a friend of a friend and he, despite his divorce and love for Star Trek, is ready for further punishment and to be seen in public with you.

Meeting someone isn’t the problem. You meet people every day. Just not anyone you want to date. Seinfeld said that 90 to 95% of the population is undateable and that we only hook up because of alcohol. And you’re only going to find that 5-10% of the quality men by sorting out the good ones from the bad ones. And while some would tell us there are no bad men just men who don’t understand the term foreplay, we’ll leave Madonna out of this for now. Wow, two Madonna jokes in two days. Guess I'm still not over being dumped for A-Rod after all.

So what’s the point? Don’t go to extremes. Try to balance your actual life between the fairy tale existence of royalty and the drudgery of becoming a scullery slave to the first dork who acknowledges you’re breathing. You’re never going to marry a Prince. Grace, you can shut the hell up.

You also shouldn’t just settle for someone. Those annoying little quirks aren’t suddenly going to become endearing now that you’ve got a ring. They’re going to eat at you like a tapeworm until finally one day you snap and put a foot in his ass because he dropped his socks right on the floor instead of the hamper despite having been repeatedly told.

There is a middle ground. You can have someone who still makes you heart flutter when he wakes you up in the morning and calls when he promises. He just won’t be wearing a crown. Unless you’ve got this keeper. Then you can go ahead and fire up the ponies.

Hot Chocolate

If you're offended by this, get over it. It's just a joke.

I don't know how the subject came up, but I suddenly thought that the phrase Chocolate MILF would be a good name for a rock and roll band (hereinafter "GNFARRB").

Then I thought a better idea would be a t-shirt of Michelle Obama with the caption Chocolate MILF would make a jillion dollars.

Until the cease and desist order arrived.

So I'll have to make due with this:

Chocolate MILF

And in the interest of equal time:

White Lightning

And if we sell both shirts, we can accurately predict who our next President is going to be to a margin of error +/- 50%. That's just slightly better than Fox News. Zing! See, I'm an equal opportunity offender.

Have a good weekend, kids.

Batdance or Batusi?

In Norwich, England, 19 year old Abbie Hawkins discovered a bat in her bra. This is not made up. Bonus points to The Telegraph for featuring a gratuitous photo of a young lady in a bra with a fake bat.

Anyhoo, Abbie thought the vibrating she felt in her clothes was just her phone. Hmm, the women I know who are used to feeling a vibration, don't mistake it for their phone. Abbie went to work at 7:30 and didn't discover the bat until around noon! Apparently, that vibration had been going on for quite some time. If you find a bat in your bra, does that make you...wait for it....a B cup?

Abbie finally investigated in her snugglepuppy holder and discovered the tiny bat while she was at work at the Holiday Inn Norwich North. And the hotel GM set the bat free in the garden. While I do not often encounter the Holiday Inn in Norwich North during my business travels, I would check for bats very carefully before I got into bed or hopped on any treadmills in that hotel.

Now I have experienced a bat in my house (though not my bra) and that particular interloper was not set free. He was rather served with a tennis raquet out the door. An ace from which he did not recover.

I'm very amazed that young Abbie had the presence of mind to capture the bat alive. If I had been forced to investigate a vibrating undergarment and found vermin therein, the reaction would have been decidedly more active and vocal. And fecal.

If Abbie just went with the Cleavacious, she could have probably have just released the bat naturally.

The Telegraph does refer to this as a Bat Bra. Now, I'm no comic book geek, but wouldn't Batgirl have the Bat Bra? Or wouldn't the Bat Bra be what Batman used to capture his arch nemesis? You know, the Jiggler.

Yes, that was an extremely long way to go for a cheap boob joke. Mea culpa.

But the moral of the story kids is best expressed by Abbie. "I will certainly be checking my bras every morning from now on." And ladies, I'm sure there are plenty of men out there who not only will rescue you, but will willingly inspect your bra for vermin if you just ask nicely. And if you can't find a full fledged VIP (Vermin Inspection Patrol), it's probably best to be on the safe side. Never, ever wear an uninspected bra. Better safe than sorry.

Now rock out to the hardest working band in Guitar Hero Aerosmith, Commando Nipples.

And Then He Kissed Me

I'm continuously amazed how many people use one term in particular to find this little blog 'o stoopidity on a fairly regular basis.

Signs He Like Me remains at the top of the charts. Which really kind of worries me. First, I wrote that long, long ago. Second, I can't believe that the women-folk aren't able to tell if a guy likes her.

I've long considered the woman to the brains of most relationships. So if she doesn't know what's going on, that's not a good sign. Whether you've read it correctly or not.

No wonder all these people are having trouble finding that certain person who is their density. That person they want to drive crazy the rest of their lives. That person who they want to hate them in 6 to 8 months. That person they want to give half their stuff to.

So I'm starting this valuable service. Since people somehow can't figure out if others like them, I'll do it.

Just send me a dollar and I'll use a proprietary, highly scientific method involving involuntary muscular responses, the lunar phase, body language, and 17 other personality traits to make a determination. Oh, and I'll need their email address for this highly customized form.

Don't try this at home. Only a certified, professional relationship expert can do this type of highly scientific analysis. And if you're still not fully satisfied with this amazing service, I can also ask if he likes you likes you.

You can't get any more scientific than that.

Once Bit Twice Shy or Stop In the Name of Love

I don't know what's going on in Sweden, but there are going to be a lot of men planning their trips soon if this gets the right kind of publicity.

In Stockholm, a woman is being held for raping a man. I'm not making this up. And while rape is a crime of violence, what this man went through doesn't sound violent in the least.

Let's examine this story in a little more detail....

A 41 year old woman and a 30 year old man met in a bar on Monday night.

Let's just start with that. First, cougar prowl. Rrraw. Go, kitty, go. Second, they're out at the bar on a Monday night. As it's not football season, some school-night shenanigans are clearly going on. And here's the first hint of some sloppy journalism. What's the name of the bar? Everyone is going to want to go there.

The two were hungry and under the influence of alcohol as they made their way home from the bar.

Well, duh. We call that Plan A. And she's getting a home game.

After the man came up to her place, the woman began to make sexual advances toward the man, which he resisted.

While the man isn't identified in the story, I think we can all pretty much agree it's Richard Simmons. "Don't. Stop. Let's not ruin this friendship. I have to go work on my diet pill reviews for my blog. Please, don't be so handsy. I'm not that kind of man. No means no, lady."

After the man refused to have sex with the woman, she then performed oral sex on him against his will.

Now because of the typical shoddy journalism reflected in mass media, we don't know what these folks were wearing. I'm guessing he must have been wearing those tearaway pants the guys on the bench at NBA games use. Because there are several very important steps that have to occur before oral sex is performed on you against your will. Unfortunately, I can't tell you what exactly those are. But this woman, this giver, after having her advances refused, still was able to talk the man into oral sex. Though her part of the conversation was probably pretty muffled. And she must have been fairly convincing as he needs an, ummm, "enthusiasm" shall we say for the act or else it's like pushing rope up a hill. I hope you get my drift. Because this has never happened before. It's not you.

Here's the kicker:

The man called police the next morning to report that he was raped.

Why would he wait until the next day? Might he have been sleepy and needed a nap. Hmmm, what could have caused that? Do you think he slept over or picked up his tearaway pants and ran out the door? Loser. I'm sure he's not doing this for any sort of publicity or notoriety. He just wants to protect other young men who hang out in bars on Monday nights from the forcible advances of older women.

The woman is being held by police while they are deciding whether to press charges. I'm guessing they're holding her very tightly. Maybe even with their hands in her hair. And they keep asking her if she wants a drink. You wouldn't want a dangerous criminal like this to be on the loose.

Now I gotta hit Orbitz and find out how much a plane ticket to Stockholm is.

That's Supposed to Be A White Flag

Oh, Canada. I don't mean that in the national anthem sort of Oh, Canada, but rather you're our awesome neighbor to the North sort of way.

The Panties for Peace campaign is asking women to send their panties to the Myanmar embassy in Ottowa. And because I am such an advocate for world peace, here's their address:

903-85 Range Road
Ottawa, ON K1N 8J6
Canada

I'm not making this up. It's even in a real paper.

Quote of the Story: The campaign plays off regional superstitions that contact with women's panties can sap a man's power.

Now, I don't want to rain on the parade and get these panties all wet, but I don't think that phenomenon is limited to Myanmar. Sure the Myanmarites (Myanmarmmaries? Myanmarnaughts? Myanmaryouandadognamedboo?) may be a bloodthirsty, milaristic junta whose leaders delayed international aid to their own people just so they could put their names on the boxes and try to take credit for it, but we may be selling them short. They've convinced women to give them their panties by pretending to be afraid of them.

I'd like to officially go on record that I am browbeaten by bras, terrified by teddies, unnerved by underwires, intimidated by intimates, bullied by bustiers, claustrophobic from the Cleavacious, paralyzed by push-ups and threatened by thongs.

Many people realize that Myanmar is the new name for Burma which was where shaving cream advertising was invented. Most people don't know, however, that Myanmar is Burmese for "You're doing a heckuva job, Brownie."

Now I gotta run because I'm hoping to get the Wife to sap my power a couple of times this weekend. Have a good one, kids.

The Cult Of Personali-T2ed

There’s been a lot about polygamy in the news lately. That’s what armed raids and tv cameras do for you. And I’m little surprised that with Texas cops, we didn’t get more gunplay. As a quick aside, I think all cops should have to wear cowboy hats when they do interviews. It just makes it easier to tell the good guys from the bad guys. And if they raid an Indian casino, that would be great. But because the Beehive State has a, let us say, slightly unique view on polygamy, I can’t keep my piehole shut no longer.

Now the kooks they raided in Eldorado are a franchise of the same guy they nabbed a couple years ago near Vegas. His name was Jeffs. He’s currently in the joint for a couple of 5 to lifes after he got caught in his SUV on the way to Vegas thanks to the technological advances in vehicle tracking. Don’t you love it when I talk all prisony? I like that a cult has franchises. And apparently these particular loonies (not to be confused with the Canadian dollar) think that the best way to grow their “church” is through inseminating and not sermon-ating.

Now because I only have 1 wife, people in Utah think I’m strange. So I’m going to start my own church, The Cult of PersonaliT2ed. Cult may not sell well with the squares so I’ll probably have to go with something a little sneakier to get the dough of the rubes who fall for this. How ‘bout The Baptists? That’s taken?! Who knew?

Okay, time for Plan B from Outer Space. I think we’ll go with the Church of Righteous Angelical Paterfamilias. Our beliefs are that you can only achieve eternal salvation by bestowing large amounts of money to me the Church. To help people in that regard, we’ll have continuous bingo, keno, monte carlo nights and raffles at the Temple. And our Church will be righteous in it’s nature and unconfineable in its majesty. No building can hold the power of the Paterfamilias. We will often be found worshiping early on as many mornings as possible in wide open spaces as we drive Satan from the earth and curse him loudly. Whenever I start talking like that, I hear Samuel L. Jackson in my head.

We also believe that intoxicating liquors are the work of the Ole Man Debil. To protect our brethren, we shall take all such substances unto ourselves and forbid the flock from consumption and require that they consecrate our Holy Monday Services with their harvest.


Where the Church of Righteous Angelical Paterfamilias is different from most religions is in their treatment of women. While a lot of churches view the role of women to be solely that of procreators, we believe women are much more than that. They will the the shining beacon of what humankind can become: caregiver, nurturer, entertainer, health inspector, maid. We will not put women on a pedestal. Nay, it shall be a stage and they will let their praise wash over us. And their gyrations and white boots and spinning tassles shall show their rapture.


What I don't get is why the men want multiple wives. Sure it sounds like a great plan--a different woman every night. But you know that the other wives are going to be sitting around talking about you. And do you think that discussion will be about how much they miss you? Plus, I can't imagine what the phone and credit card bills would be like. Plus, if you have multiple wives, you get multiple mother in laws. Can you imagine what it's like to be told multiple times by multiple wives that it's time to take the garbage out? Or getting the old, "I'll bet you'd wash the dishes for your 15th wife."

I really don't understand why these wives go for it. I mean if someone invites you out for dinner and says, "We'll just be hanging out around the compound" warning bells should be going off in your head. Maybe they think he must be a good catch and a good provider because he's already providing for 9 other women.

Now I gotta go. I've got 12 wives who've timed their cycle, so I've got to pick up several gallons of chocolate ice cream and give a shiatload of foot massages tonight.

Just a Couple of Hoo Haws

As proof that Wife & I are both crazy, I submit the following True Tale of Love.

Usually on Sunday mornings, Wife and I go out to breakfast to ensure we get our RDBA (Recommended Daily Bacon Allowance). Two weeks ago, our breakie break was after we had been to see Frank Caliendo in concert.

As a brief aside, if you don't know who Frank is, make sure you check him live and not just on the interwebs. He's an amazing impressionist who also happens to be hilarious. You've probably seen him on Fox NFL Sunday or David Letterman or You Tube. Frank does an amazing Al Pacino.

So feeling saucy and bacon-enriched, Wife and I hit the grocery store (where I would walk slowly by the bacon aisle) for a couple of essentials. As I'm parking, I notice a Meemaw with her minivan door open and she is nattering to her Peepaw.

So I park a few spots away and as she continues to talk loudly, I walk by and let out a Pacino-esque "Hoo Haw!" at the top of my lungs. Wife immediately begins to laugh and Meemaw says, "Yes, it is hot out."

Flash forward to a week later. It's after a bacon gorging and we're at the same grocery store before we head back to our luxury home. I'm heading inside and luckily no Meemaw is in sight. As I turn around to look back at the Wife, she beats me to the bunch by shouting out "Hoo Haw! and completely cracks me up."

Yeah, she gets me.

Bag Man

If you're in Spartanburg, South Carolina, you might want to check out the new purses. That's right, Jenifer Steller has created something called the Bravura. It's a purse made out of a recycled bra.

Now I've known women who occasionally tucked a buck there, but never used their whole bra for a bag.

Don't loan your Bravura to your husband. He'll never be able to get it open.

Now I couldn't find a slogan for the Bravura anywhere. So of course, I took it upon myself to make up a few:

• Snuggle up with our bags
• Show off your Bravuras
• Gravity defying bags
• Let your Bravuras free
• Don't let anyone else hold your Bravura
• The best support purse ever
• Bravura lifts and separates
• The other fun bag
• Bravura is beautiful
• The clasp is in the front
• The second base bag
• No one will snatch this purse
• Recycle, Restrain, Rejoice
• Don't let your Grandma's Bravura drag on the ground

Feel free to play along at home, kids.

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.

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.