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?

Lack of Commitment

#5 On Lack of Commitment

Someone asked, "What if it's been 10 months and he won't commit?"

That depends upon what you want him to commit to. Going steady? Exclusive dating? Monogamy? Marriage? Living together? Being institutionalized? Getting those matching tattoos? Remember how well that worked out for Roseanne and Tom.

But seriously folks, 10 months is probably long enough to figure out where a relationship is going. I'm saying probably because it depends upon your particular circumstances. I know a girl who lived with a guy and she wouldn't ever go the bathroom when he was around. Seriously, she had to wait until he left early for work so she could finally bust a grumpy. If you're in this kind of relationship CandyLand where bodily functions do not exist and everyone is still on their best behavior, 10 months may not be enough.

More than likely it is though. After 10 months you ought to have some idea if this is the person you want to drive crazy the rest of your life. I'm speaking from experience here. I was on the clock before I asked Wife to marry me. There was a timetable which I didn't know about. Luckily I got in my proposal before the clock ran out. Yet another example of my complete cluelessness where it comes to women. To this day she hasn't told me how much longer I had to pop the question. I'm pretty sure it wasn't another 10 months though.

I'm always amazed when I hear stories about people who have dated for 6 years. What the hell? How can you not have some idea whether you can co-exist by this time? It's also part of the reason that people should be forced to live together before they get married. Think of it as a Learner's Permit for Love. If you've never had to share a 1000 square foot house in the dead of winter, it may sound romantic. If you're with the wrong person, it'll be The Shining.

That wonderful person you admire so may be the one. Or it may be the person who can't fold laundry correctly, pees on the floor, is unable to see the garbage is full and farts in bed. You're only going to get to discover these lovable little "quirks" under extended behavioral observation. You're Jane Goodall with her own personal ape. Don't be ashamed to use a clip board and take extensive notes for your research. Remember that Bobby and Whitney got along at one point too.

If it's been 10 months, you probably have an idea where this relationship should be going. What's his idea? Ask him. And don't ask it in a confrontational way like it's Relationship SVU and you're going to sweat a confession out of him. Ask him after a session of red hot monkey love and you should get a straight answer. Or you could pump a couple of drinks into him and let the interrogation begin. Don't forget your bright light and a rubber hose.

I hope that helps, 10 month questioner.

I'm Not Going to Try It, You Try It

I've seen something new in my recent trips to the wonderful beverage store just down the road from Virtucon. Location, location, location, kids.

I'll admit that my marketing skills are a bit rusty, but this name caught my eye as something that might not have been tested too well.

I'm going to officially go on record that I will never put anything called Hard Creamer in my mouth. I'm sure it's a refreshing malt beverage just like the press release claims, but I'm not trying it.

Maybe it's just for the ladies and gay men? I could never be gay. I don't even like that gum that squirts in your mouth.

I wish I could have found a better image, but I got some really odd returns when I searched for Hard Creamer online.

Anyone tried a Hard Creamer lately? Please feel free to insert your naughty response in the comments.

Monkey Shines

Now I loves me the animal shows. I could watch Animal Planet all day long. Much longer than I could handle actually going out into nature and trying to interact with all the stuff that can hurt you. Or pee on you. Or eat you. And many a time I've actually said out loud (in my best Veruca Salt voice), "I want a monkey." Extra points are awarded for having hands on hips and stomping a foot at the same time as the declaration.

But I don't love animals so much that I'd actually try to bring a monkey back into the country so I could hug it and squeeze it and love it forever. That's just what happened when Robert Cusack came back into the country from Thailand.

Going out on a limb here, these smugglers probably weren't rocket scientists. Because they actually had rare birds in a suitcase and then opened the suitcase. That's like something from out of a bad sitcom. Way to go, Han Solo. You're quite the smuggler.

But being able to confess that you've got monkeys in your pants has to score you some points with the Customs Agents. Especially with the female officers. "Excuse me, is that a monkey in your pants or are you just happy to see me?"

I've also got to think that's there's more valuable merchandise you can bring back into the country than live animals. Especially when you wind up just giving the animal to an ex-girlfriend. That's a real money making scheme, criminal genius.

And if we're reading about these guys, just imagine how many other people get away with having wild monkeys in their pants. Think about that next time you're tossing your too large bottle of contact lens solution while you wait to board your plane. Even worse, it could be snakes on that plane. Nah, that's a crappy idea.

Where's My Mama-San?

Apparently in Japan they are out of news. Because this made the papers (or the online version anyway).

Japanese women look to younger men for romance

In Japan it's such chaos and free love that women are actually marrying men 6 years their junior! Stop the presses.

One talking head speculated that the "the feminine aversion to marriage reflects a gap between women's rising status at work and the deep-rooted notion that they should be subservient in relationships with men." Now my Japanese is very rusty, but my tranlsation of the original text was "Look out, Papa-san. Mama has figured out you're a load and she doesn't need you anymore. Nor your small penis." That's a loose translation of course.

Where were these nurturing, caring women when I was a poor, struggling, love-starved college student? I could have used a Sugar Momma when I was surviving on Minute Rice and Ramen Noodles. At least my diet would have probably improved.

While this may be a big deal over there, they've got a lot of work to do to catch up to us. Don't they, Ms. Moore and Ms. Sarandon?

Luckily men can still get away with marrying women 20 years or more younger than them without generating news in Japan. God Bless America. Jerry Lee and Roman, you leave those girls alone!

I don't think I've ever dated anyone that older than me. Although there was this one time with my girlfriend's Stacey's Mom. And that time with Mrs. Robinson. And my teacher in Florida. I guess this does happen all the time.

Is the age difference between partners really that big a deal in this day and age? I think an older partner might be nice. They'd tire easily and like naps so you've got your "me time" covered.

Overlooked by the Academy

In Gallatin, TN, the Honorable Don Wright is in a bit of hot water. Seems he let the makers of a local movie use the his office for a bit of filming. The movie? Thong Girl 3: Revenge of the Dark Widow of course.

I'll confess to having missed Thong Girl 1 & 2. But I've got a feeling with a title like Thong Girl (WARNING, that's a noisy link but totally worth it), picking up the series mid-stream probably isn't that difficult. I'll doubt the plot is as complex as Memento or Adaptation.

You can even watch the trailer for Thong Girl 2 online. And if you do, don't say I didn't warn you. With great acting and plot like that, you can see why something this good would have to be a trilogy. Too bad Peter Jackson was busy. The film reportedly has " no nudity, no cussing and no sex" according to its maker. That just leaves crappy special effects and bad acting then.

I'm sure you're well acquainted with Thong Girl's alter ego, Lana Layonme, who went shopping at a lingerie store one day and put on a pair of red thong underwear, which gave her magical powers. Please note that I have not made any of this up. In the latest adventure, she's trying to thwart a plot to destroy country music. Wait a minute, I'm not certain who I'm supposed to be rooting for now.

But if you're looking for a cheap and creative Halloween costume, you probably can't go wrong with Thong Girl. Especially if you're a fat, hairy guy.

On Reading the Signs

#4 Reading the Signs

Because you’re no longer in junior high school, you’ve advanced beyond asking “Does he like me or does he like me, like me?” And getting your best friend to ask him if he likes you (but don’t tell him you asked her to ask him) is a no go. Sending a note with boxes to check (yes, no, maybe) is also a bit out of bounds at this stage in your life.

You’re old enough and mature enough to get beyond these childish (but in their defense sure fire) tricks. You need to be able to tell if a man is attracted to you. If you can’t tell if one is on the line, you can’t tell when to start reeling him in. Enough with the lame fishing analogies you’re saying.

So how can you tell if a man likes you?

He looks at you.
Note that honking, wolf-whistling and yelling “Pull Up Your Shirt” (and you know that’s not what he really would yell) also indicate attraction but are most likely less desirable in a potential mate. Even if you’re from Texas. Possibly.

He listens to you.
Women use on average 20,000 words a day. Men use about 7,000. And most of these are probably monosyllabic or actually just grunting. Small wonder then that men find themselves the recipient of 13,000 extra words a day. Because of this disparity in words, men have the rare ability to go to autopilot and turn up the music that’s in their heads. A good way to check to see if a man is really listening or only autopilot listening is to slip in a term like “zone defense,” “free beer” or “Are my nipples too erect?” and see if you get a reaction.

He talks to you.
This is a tough one. Because men are so often out of words by the end of the day (as discussed more fully above), it can be a bit like dating Harpo Marx. Men aren’t rendered uncomfortable by short periods of silence. And while your story about “finding the best shoes ever at DSW but only because they had the exact same pair at Nordstrom’s but not in the right size and for $45 more but only after you had to go to Payless and try on about 15 pairs because Shoebilee never has the right size anyway” is probably very fascinating to some of your other friends, you may want to save that one for later in the courtship.

One trick to get a man to talk to you is to ask who he thinks will win the game and why. Which game isn’t important. Beware as you may receive an answer that sounds suspiciously like your shoe story. Note that the verb is talk. It’s not “open up” to you for a reason. He’s a man with no feelings. Just hope he’s not English or it’s like dating a Vulcan.

He calls you back.
Despite the genius that is Swingers, we don’t obsess about when to call. It’s a myth. Get over it. We just call when we want to do something with you. Yes, especially have sex.

He doesn’t try to hit on your friends.
This also applies to hitting on family members. Yes, especially your Mom.

He touches you.
Not your heart. Physically touches you. Puts a hand on the small of your back while you walk. Brushes hair out of your face. Holds your hand in the movie. Kisses the back of your neck when he comes back to the table.

He opens doors and/or holds chairs for you.
This one can be tricky. He may just be Southern and had these manners beaten into him by his Momma. You know, the same Momma who thinks you’re bit forward because you gave your number to her ‘lil baby son after you made out with him in public. Generally, as the younger generation of men is so ill-behaved, if you’ve got him doing this for you, you’re probably in.

He makes you laugh.
This is a tricky one too because you may be dating Harpo Marx who despite the absence of conversation is still hilarious. But if he says funny things just to you (instead of a crowd), that’s probably a good thing. Women always say they want a man with a sense of humor. Yet when I say Ocean’s 11 and they show Brad Pitt and George Clooney riding up the escalator, I heard every woman in the theater sigh. Oh yeah, it’s all about the sense of humor.

Check for actions falling into these categories. If he's doing the right things, you're probably so money and you don't even know it.

You Drive Me Crazy

If you haven't heard about this, you must not be in the metro Detroit area. Because it's what all the cool kids are talking about. Yes, the defensive line coach for the Lions, Joe Cullen, was suspended after being stopped for nude driving and later drunken driving. Yes, those are two separate incidents.

On the 24th of August, Joe Cullen made a run to a Wendy's drive through at 11:15 pm. The man responsible for serving the naked coach, Jethro Lett, summed it up best, "He don't have to say anything, he's butt naked!" Umm, I think that supposed to be Buck Naked, Jethro.

Then a week later da Coach was picked up again. This time for drunk driving when he blew a .12 for his blood alcohol level. Michigan is a .08 by the way.

My favorite part is the ticket he was issued for the first offense. The cop wrote up the offense as "driving on public street without any clothes on. (NUDE)." Thanks for adding (NUDE) in their Officer Friendly. It's that level of governmental efficiency that prevents me from believing in any type of conspiracy theory. The ticket also fails to note if he was properly driving with his hands at 10 and 2. Or was it more like 10 and 6?

What I really appreciate from the team is that he wasn't suspended for driving naked. It was only after the second offense that the team took action. Hey, we don't care if you're clothed if you can stop the run. When you're 0-2, you're not going to let a little something like driving au naturale get in the way of a win.

Now of course I have some questions. And as Coach Joe isn't talking (other than his flacktastic statement the team released and he's very, very sorry....he got caught) to reporters.

But I need to know a few things about naked driving. Do you go to the car naked? Where are your keys then? Or do you get in the car and suddenly decide, "You know what this little trip to the drive through needs? NO PANTS!" In which case then you've got to go fishing for your dough once you get to that window where they cough up your food.

Or was it a case of "I'd like to take a nice drive and get some fresh air. So much fresh air, in fact, that I'm going to take off my clothes." Then you go past a Wendy's and suddenly decide you need a Combo Meal #1 and have completely forgotten that you've removed your apparel during the expedition.

And why Wendy's? If you're driving naked, wouldn't you go to Burger King so you could make a couple of Whopper jokes? Even at McD's you could go with a cheap Quarter Pounder gag. Or an "I got your Big Mac right here."

Now I'll confess to never having driven naked. Although there was that pressed ham incident in college. If anyone has ever done any nude driving, I'd appreciate any insight they could share.

The Most Wonderful Day of the Year

I warned you last week so you'd best be prepared, me buckos.

In something that's sure to make you laugh out loud at first and then become decreasingly funny as the day goes on, it's National Talk Like a Pirate Day. By 5:00 pm, you'll actually want to use a cutlass on any co-worker who makes that damn annoying ARRRRR voice again.

Unless you go to Brown University, then you can't get enough of it.

And yes, I do stay up late on National Talk Like a Pirate Day's Eve and get to open just one cask of rum early. Right after we're done hanging our peg legs by the fireplace.

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What is Richard Harris' greatest hit? Mac Arrrrrthur Parrrrk

What are a pirate's favorite kind of sock? Arrrrgyle

What is a pirate's favorite restaurant? Arrrrrby's

Why do pirates love "A Christmas Carol?" Jacob Marrrrley

Why do pirates like sea chanties so much? They get to arrrrdition for the part.

What religion do pirates practice? Rastafarrrrrianism with Bob Marrrrley

Where do pirates vacation? Key West

Did you hear about the new pirate movie? It's rated arrrrrrr.

What is a pirate's favorite college football team? Arrrrrrmy (you'd think it would be Navy)

Why don't pirates own dogs? All the barrrrking

Why do pirates love Riverdance? It's Iiiiiiiiirish.

Why do pirate love Frank Lloyd Wright? He was an arrrrchitect.

How do the scalawags stay so thin? They do Pi-rat-es.

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Okay, I'll shut up now. Now get your name and post it for all to flee in terror.

Love,

Jolly Mon

Get My Drink On At the Crack of Dawn

Because we've fixed everything else in our great State of Michigan, we're working on the Sports Fans Bill of Rights. Sure we may not know what to do about the Ford Motor Company, striking Northwest Airlines Flight attendants and just settled our Detroit Public School Teachers' Stike, but we take our football seriously.

State Representative Leon Drolet (R-Macomb Township) has a couple of ideas to make the Lions games at Ford Field more exciting. First, allow alcohol sales to start at 7:00 am instead of noon on Sundays. Second, fans should be allowed to wave signs that criticize the management of the Lions. And by "the management" he means Matt Millen.

If you got to see any of the Lions' games (a 9-6 loss to the Seahawks and a Chicago Bear blowout), you'll easily understand why fans should be able to start drinking early and often. It's chemically impossible to be in a state of alcohol induced numbness sufficient to watch the Lions in only an hour.

I especially liked Roy Williams celebrating a catch yesterday against da Bears. He made a grab then got up and did the first down handmotion. Too bad they were down by 24 points by then. And that's after Roy had guaranteed a win against the Bears earlier in the week. Way to rile up the best defense in football, Roy.

And Matt Millen sucks donkey balls. Since taking the helm of the Lions five years ago, they have the worst record in the entire NFL. There are even websites devoted just to getting him fired. Rep. Drolet argues that since public money was used to fund the stadium, we should not be curtailing free speech there.

Whatever, college boy. As long as we can get into the sauce a little bit earlier, we might actually be able to stomach another 6-10 team this year. Next week the 0-2 Packers are on the schedule. Something has to give....

Always Be Closing

#3 On Closing the Transaction

This one isn’t rocket science either. Love is all around. Don’t waste it. When you’ve got a chance, take it. Wait, that may be from the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Pick up your beret already and let’s move on.

The point is, when you’ve got a chance to score a date, go for it. This is the new millennium. Women are now allowed to bear the fear of rejection just like men have been doing for years (with the exception of Sadie Hawkin’s Dances). Then we're really flattered and as giggly as can be when two women fight over us. That's happened exactly once in the recorded history of Earth.

Yes, women are now allowed to ask men:

• to dance
• to go out to eat
• to hang out
• to neck
• to go to a movie
• to get a cocktail

There are no rules anymore. It’s chaos. Cats and dogs are living together. Get your head around it, baby. Chicks, you’re our equals now. Yes, we’re just as confused as you are. No, we don’t have any answers either.

Troubles arise between men and women when communication is vague or unclear. She hears, “I’ll call you.” He heard himself say, “Maybe I’ll call. Some day. Perhaps at half time.” Don’t settle for that weak shit. You’re so money and you don’t even know it. You need to firm up those plans. Get a real yes, dammit. ABC. Always Be Closing.

And that’s part of the closing --make definite plans. Non-committal answers are a polite no. If he’s not willing to be pinned down, move on. If he can’t see your genius, good looks and great personality, it’s his loss. Going out with his best friend or brother is always a nice response, but don’t compromise your standards just to make a point.

The perfect non-confrontation close involves lunch. Lunch is nothing. Who doesn’t do lunch? You meet somewhere, have a meal in public and then return to your appointed toil. It’s a great excuse for a quick getaway. If things aren’t working out, you've got a meeting at 1:00. You ought to be able to score a lunch date in your sleep by now. Lunch is where you’ll be able to work your magic. As long as you don’t get spinach stuck in your teeth. Again.

And getting the lunch date is just part of the fun. You’ve still got those background checks, sexual partner referrals, Google searches, credit reports and felony conviction records to go through. So get cracking.